Page 154 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

"I don't want everyone. Just the interesting ones."

"That's still too many."

"That's exactly the right amount."

"We're running out of rooms."

"We have forty-three rooms."

"And at this rate, we'll fill them all."

"Would that be so bad?"

"It would be chaos."

"Our favourite thing."

They stood together at the edge of the long gravel drive, watching as Margaret’s carriage rolled away into the distance. The wheels crunched softly against the stones, growing fainter with each turn until only a thin cloud of dust marked her departure. Cordelia stood beside them, hands folded neatly, her face calm but her eyes glistening. Thistle sat proudly at their feet, tail sweeping through the dust, ever alert for opportunities to misbehave.

“We did it,” Arabella said suddenly, breaking the quiet with a voice that trembled between wonder and disbelief.

Lucien glanced at her, brow lifting. “Did what?”

“Survived,” she said, turning to face him fully, her eyes bright in the golden light of late afternoon. “The truth about Matilda, Cassandra’s schemes, Harrington’s revenge. We survived it all.”

He smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “We did more than survive.”

“Oh?” she asked, tilting her head, the beginnings of a grin tugging at her lips.

“We thrived,” he said simply, and somehow that single word carried the weight of everything they’d endured.

“Through chaos?”

“Because of chaos.”

“Our chaos?” she pressed, teasing but soft.

“Our perfect chaos,” he affirmed, his tone both proud and affectionate.

“With our criminal dog?”

“Essential to the chaos,” he said without hesitation, looking down at Thistle, who wagged as if in agreement.

“And our collected family?”

“The best part of the chaos.”

They both looked down at the dog, who was currently sneaking something shiny from Morrison’s pocket with expert precision.

“He’s getting worse,” Lucien observed, folding his arms.

“He’s getting better at it,” Arabella countered, eyes twinkling.

They went inside, still bickering pleasantly, their words echoing down the old hallway as the last traces of sunlight spilled across the worn wooden floors. The air carried the faint scent of smoke and lavender polish, a reminder of the day’s madness slowly settling into peace. Outside, the sun sank behind the gardens, casting long golden shadows across the cracked walls of Blackthorn Manor. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, it always did, but tonight, for once, they were safe, together, and happy.

“You know,” Lucien said as they prepared for bed, “I think Matilda would have been happy for us.”

Arabella glanced over her shoulder as she brushed out her hair, a faint smile ghosting across her face. “Because we’re happy?”