When she turned to him, her smile was unguarded, and his—quiet, steady, unmistakably hers—met it without question.
The giggle was followed by the patter of unsteady footsteps and a triumphant babble that made Beatrice pause mid-step, a smile blooming before she could stop it. She did not need to be told; she would recognize that sound anywhere.
Eliza.
“She’s discovered the echo again,” Edward said beside her, amused. “Last time, she laughed for ten full minutes.”
There were moments—more frequent than she had expected—when joy arrived without warning, without the careful consideration she had once given to every feeling.
Beatrice’s eyes shone. “It’s her favorite room. She probably thinks the house laughs back.”
“You may go in,” he coaxed. “I promise I won’t vanish.”
She gave him a look. “I wasn’t worried.”
He smiled, knowing better.
They reached the drawing room just as Eliza burst into fresh giggles, crawling toward Amelia.
Beatrice paused at the threshold just as Eliza lurched forward, her arms outstretched for balance, her curls bouncing wildly. Amelia hovered close, her hands ready, while Simon pretended—poorly—not to be watching every step with barely contained alarm.
“Careful,” Amelia murmured, half-laughing.
Eliza responded with a delighted squeal that might have been agreement or simply joy, flashing two tiny white teeth as she caught herself against a chair leg.
Beatrice’s heart swelled at the sight.
“Eliza, this is a very respectable house,” Simon chided. “There will be no charging about like—like?—”
“Like a child?” Edward supplied.
Simon sighed. “I had high hopes.”
“She’s trying to outrun her own feet again,” Edward murmured.
Beatrice glanced at him, amused. “You encourage her.”
“I admire ambition,” he said mildly.
“One day,” Simon declared solemnly, “she will walk in a straight line.”
“Unlikely,” Edward snorted. “She’s already a Wrexford.”
Dinner was warm and loud in the best way.
Eliza sat on Amelia’s lap, gnawing thoughtfully on a crust of bread, her small teeth flashing whenever she laughed. She dropped the piece of bread and smeared her fingers withmashed apple, drumming them enthusiastically against the table whenever voices rose. She babbled at random intervals, clearly convinced she was contributing meaningfully to the conversation.
Beatrice watched her, cataloging her small habits without meaning to. She had learned how easily such details could slip away if not held gently.
Edward leaned toward her and murmured, “She has very strong opinions.”
Beatrice smiled. “And no hesitation in sharing them.”
Eliza rewarded this attention by reaching across the table and grabbing Simon’s finger with surprising strength, gumming it solemnly before giggling again.
Amelia laughed, tired and radiant all at once. “She has discovered teeth.”
Simon sighed. “And I fear I shall never know peace again.”
