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The warm spring breeze carried the scent of blooming roses through the open windows of Lorne Manor, a fragrance far removed from the salt and spray of the sea where their story had truly begun.

Beatrice let the floral sweetness fill her lungs, grounding her in the present, in the life they had built from unexpected beginnings.

Outside, the grounds bustled with energy, servants arranging tables and hanging garlands in preparation for the afternoon's festivities.

“Mama, look!” William cried, tugging at her skirts, his little face alight with wonder. “I got a butterfly!”

Beatrice turned, a fond smile playing on her lips as she beheld her son’s mischievous grin, so like his father’s. “Careful, darling,” she cautioned, adjusting the sleeping infant in her arms. “We mustn’t harm nature’s delicate creatures.”

William’s brow furrowed in concentration as he gently opened his cupped hands, allowing the iridescent insect to flutter away. Beatrice’s heart swelled with pride at his thoughtfulness.

“There’s my little rascal.”

Matthew leaned against the doorframe for a moment, arms crossed, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as he watched his son’s excitement.

In a flash, he was across the room, plucking William off the ground and tossing him into the air, drawing a delighted squeal from the boy.

Beatrice watched them, her green eyes sparkling with affection.

How far they had come in five short years, she mused.

From adversaries to lovers, and now to this—a family bound by the deepest love.

“And how are my beautiful ladies this morning?” Matthew inquired, moving to place a tender kiss on Beatrice’s cheek before brushing his lips across their daughter’s downy head.

“We are well, though I daresay young Margaret here has quite forgotten the meaning of a nap,” Beatrice quipped, her tone light and lips curved into a brilliant smile.

Matthew’s gaze softened with concern. “Perhaps I should have the nurse take her for the afternoon? You deserve to enjoy our annual garden party without worry.”

Beatrice considered his offer, torn between her fierce protectiveness and the allure of a few hours’ respite. “I suppose that would be sensible,” she conceded. “Though I shall miss her terribly.”

“As will I,” Matthew agreed, “though I pray she will sleep this evening.” He met Beatrice’s gaze, his blue eyes twinkling. “I have plans for you tonight.”

Beatrice’s breath caught for a fraction of a second before she gathered herself, warmth creeping up her neck. Even after all these years, he still had the power to unravel her with nothing more than a look. “Matthew,” she admonished half-heartedly, “you are incorrigible.”

He laughed, the rich sound warming her from within. “And you, my dear, are as enchanting as ever. How did I get so fortunate?”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “I believe it involved a great deal of scandal and several heartfelt apologies, if memory serves.”

Matthew’s expression grew serious, and he reached out to caress her cheek. “Every day, I thank Providence for granting me your forgiveness and love,” he murmured.

Beatrice leaned into his touch, her heart full to bursting. “And I thank Providence for giving me the wisdom to see the man you truly are.”

Their moment was interrupted by William tugging insistently at Matthew’s coat. “Papa, you promised to show me how to skip stones on the lake!”

Matthew chuckled, ruffling the boy’s dark curls. “So I did, my lad. Shall we, then?”

As father and son bounded from the room, their laughter echoing through the halls, Beatrice found herself overcome with gratitude. The path to this happiness had been fraught with challenges, but she would not change a single step of their journey.

“Bea, darling!”

Charlotte swept into Beatrice’s arms with all the flair of an actress on opening night. “Five years married to the infamous Earl of Lorne? And he has yet to flee to the Continent? Truly, a miracle!”

Beatrice laughed, her heart filled with mirth. “Certainly not I, all those years ago.”

Charlotte’s melodious giggle filled the air. “And to think, you meant to banish him.”

“I did try,” Beatrice admitted, her tone rich with amusement. “Though I must confess, his rakish charm did make my heart flutter, even then.”

Their reminiscing was cut short by the approach of an elegant, silver-haired woman. Matthew’s mother glided toward them with a grace that belied her years.

“Beatrice, my dear,” she said, clasping Beatrice’s hands in a rare show of warmth. “I was wrong about you.”

She exhaled, a smile softening her features. “I once feared Matthew had chosen a woman too wild, too headstrong. But I see now that he needed someone exactly like you—someone who would challenge him, ground him, and love him as fiercely as he loves you.”

Beatrice swallowed hard, touched by the sincerity in her mother-in-law’s words. “He has brought out the best in me as well,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “We have grown together, I think.”

Matthew appeared, William perched on his shoulders and holding a gleaming, flat stone triumphantly. “Mama, I skipped it six times!” he called, his face alight with excitement.

Beatrice clapped her hands, her laughter bubbling over. “Six times? My, you are a natural, my love.”

Matthew set William down, and the boy darted off to join the other children. He turned to Beatrice, his eyes crinkling with affection. “I think this is what they call a perfect day.”

Beatrice reached for his hand, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. “And it’s all the more perfect because it is with you.”

As the festivities carried on around them, Matthew drew Beatrice close, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. “Here’s to many more perfect days, my darling wife.”

She rested her head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a reminder of how far they’d come.

Together, they had weathered storms and danced in the sunlight, growing stronger with each passing season—like the roses blooming around them, their love was both wild and eternal, rooted deep and unyielding.