Page 157 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

Arabella smiled and nestled closer against him. “We have exactly the right number of things.”

They argued about names until they fell asleep, wrapped around each other with Thistle snoring at their feet. Outside, the night was peaceful—no fires, no threats, no dramatic revelations.

Just peace.

It wouldn't last, it never did with them, but for tonight, it was enough.

More than enough.

It was perfect.

And in the morning, when Arabella woke to find Lucien's hand protectively over her growing belly, when Thistle had somehow acquired Morrison's second-best cravat, when Cordelia was teaching the kitchen maids to pick locks "for emergencies," when the whole chaotic, criminal, perfect mess of their life resumed, she knew that this was exactly where she belonged.

Not in the calm, ordered life she might have had.

But in this beautiful chaos. With her beast, her collected family and her criminal dog.

And their future child who would undoubtedly inherit all of their worst and best qualities.

"Regrets?" Lucien asked, catching her smiling.

"Never."

"Not even about the fires?"

"Especially not about the fires."

"Chaos and love?"

"Crime and family?"

"Danger and happiness?"

"All the same."

"That makes no sense."

"That makes perfect sense."

"For us."

"Only for us."

"I love you," he said suddenly.

"I love you too."

"Even though our life is insane?"

"Because our life is insane."

And really, Arabella thought as Lucien kissed her good morning while Thistle began his daily crime spree and Cordelia could be heard teaching someone else something they definitely shouldn't know, what more could anyone want?

Chaos.

Love.

Family.