"Children?" Lyra's cheeks flushed pink as Old Mrs. Covington's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I expect great-grandchildren soon. Don't disappoint an old woman."
Percival cleared his throat, his usual composed demeanor briefly cracking. "Grandmother, we've barely been married."
"Time waits for no one," the elderly woman replied, patting Lyra's hand. "Besides, you two make a handsome pair. Those babies would be beautiful."
Lyra caught Percival's gaze across the room, both of them momentarily speechless. The shared embarrassment created an unexpected intimacy between them.
"We should get going," Percival finally said, checking his watch. "The Moreau family is expecting us."
Old Mrs. Covington nodded, giving Lyra's hand one final squeeze. "Remember what I told you. Hold your head high in that house."
