Chapter 684 Joy for Henry: An Heir for the House of Montague
Avery had dozed off for a while.
Downstairs, the faint sounds of housekeeping began. In his arms, Maggie stirred, wriggling in protest.
He was holding her too tightly, and the little girl's voice carried a hint of complaint, "I need to go to the bathroom."
Avery opened his eyes. Maggie's chin-length hair was glossy and neat, her skin warm and soft from a full night's sleep.
At five years old, her shoulders were narrow, her frame small enough to fit perfectly against him — and to Avery, she was impossibly precious.
She could go on her own, but he still pushed himself up, lifting her from the bed and carrying her all the way to the bathroom. Maggie clung to him, her small arms looped around his neck, her body pressed to his like a little koala. In that moment, she was blissfully happy.
She had a dad now.
Avery, newly a father, was shamelessly indulgent. He used to think Jacob with Serafina, or Julian with Taylor, were far too affectionate. Now, with his own daughter in his arms, he found himself imagining the sweetness of a family of three — and even worrying about the day some man might try to steal her away.
At the bathroom, he set her on the toilet. Only after he stepped outside did Maggie pull down her little pajama bottoms. She alternated between grinning and covering her face, delighted for reasons she couldn't explain.
When she was done, Avery dressed her himself. Maggie looked up at her tall, handsome father and felt a pang of regret — if only he could take her to school. Before she could say it, he smoothed her hair.
"Later we'll visit your grandparents," he said. "And this afternoon, we'll take a look at a kindergarten."
Maggie brightened, then hesitated. "But Mom said I can't start until autumn. They're not taking new students now."
Avery hooked an arm under hers, lifting her down from the bed. "Then I'll buy a kindergarten for you."
Maggie's eyes went wide.
At the doorway, the nanny overheard and froze.
Buy a kindergarten? How rich was this man? She followed them toward the bathroom, only to be stunned again — Avery seemed to genuinely adore the child.
Ten minutes later, father and daughter came downstairs, just as Isadora emerged from the master bedroom. She looked tired, as if she hadn't slept well. Avery's mind flashed, unbidden, to the way she had pleaded beneath him last night.
His gaze swept over her outfit — a fitted black skirt suit with matching heels, her legs pale and smooth. Elegant, with just enough edge to stir his irritation.
"Is it really that hot today?" he asked.
"Mr. Montague, do I need your permission to get dressed?" she shot back.
Maggie reached for her. "Mommy."
Isadora bent toward her daughter and was immediately pulled into a tight hug, pressed against Avery's shoulder. He caught the scent of her perfume — Opium. Diana's favorite.
Avery didn't think of himself as easily tempted, but with Isadora dressed like that, smelling like that, pressed so close, his thoughts strayed. His eyes lingered on her, unreadable.
From the nanny's perspective, they looked like a picture-perfect family.
At breakfast, Maggie was locked in battle with her mashed potatoes.
Isadora glanced at her, then at Avery. "I need to talk to you."
His look was anything but innocent.
Even with her usual temper, Isadora felt a flicker of discomfort under that gaze. She tucked her hair behind her ear and softened her tone, "Wait a while before taking Maggie back. She's barely settled since coming home from Vesper City."
Avery's eyes darkened. He didn't look pleased, but before he could speak, Maggie looked up from her plate. "I want to see Grandpa and Grandma. And I want to go to school, Mommy."
Avery stroked her hair. The man who was all sharp edges in the boardroom was nothing but gentle with his daughter.
Isadora felt a strange pang.
Last night, they'd crossed a line — his choice, not hers — and some foolish part of her had let that spark a dangerous hope. But he made no move to include her in his plans. He was only taking Maggie.
Now she understood. Last night had meant nothing. Whoever believed otherwise would lose.
By eight, Avery was driving Maggie to the Montague Mansion.
A black Rolls-Royce was parked outside — his daily company car.
Jennifer, his secretary, stood waiting. She looked up as his car rolled in, but when Avery stepped out holding a small, delicate girl, her mouth fell open.
This was his child?
Maggie, shy with strangers, buried her face in his neck. Up close, Jennifer could see the resemblance. There was no doubt.
"Mr. Montague," she stammered, "your parents are having breakfast."
"And this is Jennifer," Avery told Maggie. "She's Daddy's secretary."
She would be helping care for the girl, so the introduction mattered.
"Hello," Maggie greeted politely.
Jennifer took in the shiny short hair, the bright eyes, the fragile frame held so protectively in Avery's arms. 'Lucky child,' she thought.
Word spread fast. Within minutes, the mansion was buzzing. A maid rushed into the dining room where Henry and Amelia were seated.
"Mr. Montague, Mrs. Montague — Avery just came home with a little girl. Looks exactly like him."
Henry set down his paper. "Where is she? How does a child appear out of nowhere? Isn't he supposed to be getting engaged?"
Amelia, remembering Avery's behavior last night, already knew. "She's Isadora's."
Henry frowned. "How do you figure?"
"Avery's not the type to drink with Autumn in public unless he's trying to provoke someone," Amelia said.
Henry's eyes lit with understanding. "He's been hiding this well."
Before she could add more, footsteps sounded in the hall. Avery entered, carrying Maggie.
Just as the staff had said, she looked every inch a Montague.
Henry's excitement was instant. Last night he'd envied the Windsor family for having Abigail. Now, the Montagues had a child even older — four years older, by the look of it.
"Avery," Amelia said, taking Maggie from his arms, "where's Isadora? No matter your differences, she raised this child alone. You shouldn't keep punishing her."
"Later," Avery said easily. "I'm not marrying her just because of the child."
Henry snorted. "Sounds almost romantic."
But when he turned to Maggie, his expression softened. He took her from Amelia, studying her face like a jeweler appraising a flawless gem.
Maggie watched Henry and Amelia, caught once more by their charm. They were both striking, and Amelia carried that sweet, warm scent.
"Grandpa. Grandma," Maggie said sweetly.
Henry's chest swelled. "Amelia, take her upstairs to pick a room. Get the best designer in the city to make it perfect. Avery, assemble the best teaching team and bring in a group of kindergarten kids. I want her happy at school. And I'm calling Oliver — and everyone else who's ever bragged about their grandkids. They're going to meet ours."
Avery was calm. "Jennifer will just buy a kindergarten. Easier than finding hundreds of kids."
Amelia could only laugh, half exasperated. A new bedroom and a school were fine, but did Henry really need to flaunt the fact that Maggie was born years ago, before Avery and Isadora were even together?
Henry seemed to realize it too.
Avery caught Amelia's look. "I'll marry Isadora. Maggie will be legitimate."