Page 158 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

Crime.

All wrapped up in one perfect, imperfect life.

With the promise of more chaos to come, starting with whatever Thistle had just stolen from Morrison's pocket, which appeared to be...

"Is that my pocket watch?" Lucien asked.

"Appears so."

"How did he..."

"Criminal genius."

"We're raising our child with a criminal genius dog."

"The best kind."

And so they bickered into the morning, as they would bicker into tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that, because that's what they did. That's who they were.

The Beast and his Lady.

The Earl and his Countess.

Lucien and Arabella.

Parents-to-be.

Dog owners.

Family collectors.

Chaos creators.

And perfectly, impossibly, criminally happy.

Chapter 23

The morning sun streamed through the windows, painting golden squares across the floor where Arabella sat, her considerably rounded belly making the simple act of sorting baby clothes more challenging than it should have been.

"You're nesting," Lucien observed from the doorway, watching her fold and refold the same tiny gown for the third time.

"I'm organising."

"You're nesting. Like a very particular bird."

"Birds don't have to worry about their offspring being corrupted by criminal dogs."

As if summoned, Thistle appeared, carrying what looked suspiciously like one of the baby's new bootees.

"Where did you get that?" Arabella demanded.

Thistle wagged his tail, clearly proud of his acquisition.

"From the drawer I just organised, I'm guessing."

"The closed drawer?"

"He's been practising with Cordelia again."