The Duke's Masked Wife Chapter 549 A Seat At The Table (4)



"Why do you keep getting so thrilled about inviting us over all the time? I'm beginning to prefer fewer folks in my house these days. After my divorce, I shrank my friend group. Sometimes, it's nicer to have a peaceful, empty home all to yourself," Priscilla remarked. 

Whenever the house grew too quiet and lonely, she'd simply head out for some shopping, and these days, she'd stop by to see David. 

"There was a period in my past when I took my meals alone in my bedroom while my father and the rest gathered at the dining table, sharing stories. It might seem silly that I yearned to join those who didn't value me, but sitting at that table was a dream I held dear. The evening of my betrothal to Edgar marked the first time in years I claimed a spot there," Alessandra responded.

Alessandra went on, "These days, I not only savor meals at the table, but every glance around reveals faces of people I cherish and who cherish me in return. That's precisely why I relish our group dinners, and even breakfasts. Any occasion that unites us in this way."

The little kitten she used to share bites with had vanished, along with Mario, who sneaked her food during Katrina's attempts to starve her as punishment. She had nearly brought them both into this new joy she'd discovered. Alessandra would hold them close in her thoughts, for they were far more than companions—they were kin.

Returning to solitary meals was the last thing she desired. Isolated in a silent room, aware that family lingered nearby, pretending she was invisible. Alessandra eagerly anticipated her future children dashing into the dining area, claiming seats one after another. It was the sole moment she'd side with Edgar on the idea of a large brood.

Their home would echo with joyous laughter from kids who understood their deep affection. She couldn't wait to recount how she'd encountered their dad, and the ways he'd rescued her.

"Now I realize I should treasure the meals I share with my aunt and parents. I never knew someone else might envy such simple gatherings," Eleanor commented. 

In Eleanor's view, Alessandra was an unusual lady. Most folks dream of amassing wealth to find bliss, and Alessandra now possessed that fortune, yet what truly lit her up was folks assembled around a table, chatting and relishing meals together. 

No surprise Edgar went to extremes to shield her. Alessandra was far too valuable for Lockwood.

"Feel free to invite me anytime. The cuisine here surpasses anywhere else. We ought to reserve a bedroom for me. I'd make a superb nanny when the moment arrives. Provided there's someone nearby to lean on when panic strikes," Eleanor declared, glancing at Edgar for approval—Alessandra was always simple to sway.

"Reed already claims a room here, so why claim one for yourself?" Edgar replied. 

Among Alessandra's pals who schemed to linger like Erin, Eleanor stood out as one he favored. She never got overly boisterous, prying excessively into their bond as if she belonged, and she'd exposed the truth about the tea. She remained a constant guest, especially since Alessandra could have miscarried without her warning.

Eleanor's face lit up, delighted that Edgar endorsed her visits and overnight stays. She had no issue commandeering Reed's space and ousting him to crash elsewhere. If he desired sharing a room, he needed to pop the question first. 

Eleanor refused to earn a reputation as a loose woman for being secluded with an unmarried man. She strived to dodge gossip branding her as someone entangled with a fellow sans a ring. Folks often assumed, due to her family's enterprises, she'd never wed a decent chap and settle; instead, they figured she'd wind up in some seedy district. 

"On the topic of kids, are you two still betting the first batch will exceed one?" Priscilla inquired. She'd need to duplicate the presents she'd begun collecting for her grandkids' visits. A staunch advocate that Alessandra required aid in outfitting youngsters. "I hope they're all girls so I can adorn them—"

"Didn't you play with dolls growing up? They aren't playthings. I want everyone to quit scheming about our offspring until they're born. It's a lengthy road till their debut. No clue who among you might forfeit your seat here by then," Edgar stated, eyeing his father, who'd stayed unusually silent.

"You could've been subtler about who you suspect will vanish. I'll disprove you, Edgar. I plan to stick around for your little ones to dub me grandpa," Edmund vowed. He couldn't fathom skipping the grandkids' era, having raised just one child before.

No alternative existed but Edgar to deliver him heirs. At his years, restarting fatherhood held no appeal. Particularly since he hadn't mastered improving as a parent to Edgar. 

"Don't be shocked if they address you by anything but grandpa. I bet Edgar will murmur alternative titles into their ears someday," Alessandra noted, observing Edgar's sly grin, as if he'd already brainstormed monikers for Edmund.

"Who decides the kids' names? That's the key matter at hand. I've got several ideas," Priscilla exclaimed, keen to divulge. Curiously, her selections echoed her own name.

"Edgar and I will select the ultimate choices, but I'd adore your input. I keep mulling over how Edgar dubbed my kittens, and how I never bothered altering it. Blessing and curse alike," Alessandra sighed, shaking her head. 

She wouldn't accept haphazard names for their babies. Alessandra was fine postponing until the infant rested in her embrace, then, gazing at their features, a fitting name would emerge.

"I reckon Edmund junior could be a-"

"Craving to part with your tongue, old timer?" Edgar cut in, halfway through filling Alessandra's juice glass. "Why on earth would I tag a child with your name when I'd shun it myself? Adopt a pup and call it Edmund junior. Suits perfectly."

"I figured you aimed for a serene supper, son? How come you're forever primed for a spat?" Edmund pondered. Teasing Edgar mildly always amused him. "We may need to boot him out shortly for spoiling our evening, Alessandra."

"I quite like this lighthearted squabbling. It's jovial and seems utterly ordinary," Alessandra expressed, relishing the exchange. Watching all get animated over naming the kids and anticipating their coming thrilled her. She surveyed the table, where each had drifted into private chats. "Carry on."