Her Grace of Haverford had decided to wait for the final decision at Chirbury House, to keep her goddaughter company and also, incidentally, to spend time cuddling the little boys whose fates were being decided today by the Committee of Privileges.

Stephen, currently Viscount Longford and Stocke, as eldest by thirty minutes and therefore heir to both his mother and his father, had recently learned to push himself up on his knees and then, tenuously, his hands. He rocked back and forth, looking tremendously pleased with himself, until he rocked too far and fell on his chin. While his mother and Eleanor were cooing over him, his brother John had been exercising his talent for exploration, having learned that he could roll to almost every corner of the room, and let out a wail when he trapped himself in the corner between a chest and the wall.

Once both were rescued, comforted, and returned to the rug, the two ladies continued their interrupted conversation. “As I was saying, I want them to have as normal a childhood as possible. I will always be grateful that Daisy had such a long time with no Society expectations on her, and I want that for the boys.” Anne was Countess of Chirbury by virtue of her marriage to Eleanor’s nephew and Countess of Selby in her own right, but had spent nearly a decade in hiding from her usurping uncle, pretending to be a humble widow and living on a shoestring with her sisters and little Daisy.

“They also need to grow up knowing their responsibilities,” Eleanor warned.

“And that is why I hope they can both carry equal honours,” Anne insisted. “If our petition is agreed, then they shall be equals, requiring the same education and training, both heirs to an earldom.”

Eleanor quite agreed. While younger brothers did not inherit in the world of the aristocracy, at least without some tragedy befalling the elder, she had seen much resentment even between those born years apart. The elder wanted the freedom of the younger; the younger the status of the elder. How much more when the twain were from a single birth, only an accident of position putting one before the other? Still, “Good parenting will help, my dear. You will not allow such jealousies in your nursery, and you will love them both equally.”

Anne smiled her thanks and agreement. “We will also help all our children, whatever their birth order and whether they are boys or girls, to find a purpose in life; something they are passionate about and good at doing.”

The nursery door opened and let in Rede, the Earl of Chirbury. “Anne, they have decided. The recommendation is going to the King. John is to be your heir, my love, just as we wanted.”

Anne flew to his arms, and Rede returned her hug as he smiled over her head at Eleanor. “It is a good day, Aunt Eleanor. You will thank His Grace for his support?”

Eleanor nodded. Haverford, like most of the peers involved,  had supported the petition to prevent too much power accumulating in the hands of one earl, even one related to him by marriage. Indeed, Rede had suggested the idea himself, appealing to their self interest. And it had worked!

Rede released his wife and strode to the baby boys, who were grinning and burbling to their father. In moments, they were tossed up, one onto each strong shoulder, to be spun around the room until all three were laughing helplessly. “Hannah!” the earl called to the beloved woman who ruled the nursery, “Meet Lord Longford and his brother, Lord Stocke!”

***

Rede and Anne have their story told in Farewell to Kindness. The twins appear in family scenes in later stories of the Golden Redepenning saga.