Devon, August 1818

“Are they back yet?” Beck’s stepmother, Rachel, joined him in the garden.

He set his guitar down and leaned it against the bench where he’d been sitting. Rising, he looked toward the path that led to the beach a mile away. “No.”

Lavinia and George had gone to look for fossils, one of their favorite pastimes on a beautiful summer day like today. That George preferred geology to learning to play guitar was just another example of a battle she’d won.

Beck smiled to himself. His wife was formidable and amazing.

“What are you smiling at?” Rachel asked.

“Just thinking of my wife,” he said. “And George.”

His stepmother peered at him from beneath the wide brim of her bonnet. “You’re quite changed since you wed. Lavinia has done you good.”

“Was I beastly before?” he asked in mock offense.

She laughed softly. “Of course not. You just seem more…settled.”

Yes, that was a good word to describe it. He still suffered from dark moods, but they were far less intrusive. He was working through them and finding his way back to the light. And yes, he credited Lavinia.

She’d guided him through the particularly horrid trial of Haywood, which had included the testimony of one of the other women he’d given pennyroyal—Lady Kipp-Landon. The woman had tearfully admitted that he’d gotten her with child and insisted she take the herb to dispose of it. She hadn’t needed to because she’d ended up miscarrying, but her story had sealed the man’s fate, and he was currently on his way to Australia. If he survived the voyage, he’d likely spend the rest of his life on the other side of the world.

Haywood had begged for mercy, and even Beck had been swayed. He’d seen the man’s wife and children one day and had felt terrible for their loss. Lavinia had been so right when she’d said that killing Haywood would have wrecked him. Just knowing the villain would never see his family again had nearly done the same.

Following the trial, Lady Kipp-Landon had apologized to Beck for tormenting Helen. When Beck had asked her why she and Lady Abercrombie—who had retreated from Society for the remainder of the Season—had singled out Helen and why they’d suggested she kill herself, she’d broken down and said it was because of Haywood. Lady Kipp-Landon had been in love with him, and she’d wanted to push every other woman he paid attention to out of the way.

While Beck had wanted to know the truth, he couldn’t say he was satisfied. The entire situation was just sad. Still, with Lavinia’s help, he found the courage to let the darkness go.

Forgiveness, it seemed, wasn’t something you granted to someone, but a gift you gave yourself. Once Beck had done that, he’d felt free.

“George likes her a great deal,” Martha said, looking toward the path just as Lavinia and her son came into view. “Here they come.” She turned to Beck. “I like her too.”

How could they not? Lavinia was kind, generous, funny, and wickedly smart. In fact, she’d practically taken over George’s studies in science. When he went off to school, he’d know more than most of his mates.

A few moments later, George and Lavinia strolled into the garden. George toted a basket, which contained today’s treasures.

“Hungry for luncheon?” Rachel called.

“Famished!” George answered. He handed the basket to Lavinia, then veered toward the house and broke into a run.

Rachel laughed. “See you both inside.”

Lavinia walked up to Beck and kissed him, her lips lingering on his.

“You taste like salt and wind,” he said, inhaling her scent. “And you smell like perfection.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What does that even smell like?”

Chuckling, he peered into the basket. “I’m going to have to build you a second library.”

“Nonsense, Waverly Court’s library is massive. I could collect fossils every day of my life and never fill it.”

“Yes, but what if you add rocks from the Outer Hebrides?”

She looked up at him, her eyes widening. “Are we going?”

He nodded. “In a fortnight, if that meets with your approval.”

She set the basket on the bench next to his guitar and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh yes!” She kissed the side of his face near his ear and whispered, “Thank you, Beck.”

He encircled his arms around her and cupped her neck so he could kiss her. Time and space ceased to exist as he lost himself in her embrace, and it was some while before she lifted her lips from his. “We should go in to luncheon,” she said.

“Or I could ravish you here.”

“They can see from the house.” Her voice held a smile.

“Have I ever told you that sometimes you’re too sensible?”

“Often.”

“After lunch, may I ravish you? I’ll even let you choose the location.”

“How can I refuse such a polite request? You’re always so polite.”

“Always? What about the time I tore your chemise? Or when I surprised you in the bath?”

“You still managed to make those occasions charming.”

“Hmm, perhaps I shall write an ode to the sensible marchioness and her polite husband.”

“Oh dear, they sound rather dull.”

He looked down at her with a sultry smile. “I shall make them exciting. Care to give me any ideas?”

“Oh yes. After lunch. In the library, I think.” She lowered her lids in a seductive fashion. “You can help me put my new treasures away.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

She pressed another kiss to his lips then spun away from him, picking up the basket and starting toward the house. She looked over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

“Not yet, but I will be after lunch.” He picked up his guitar as she laughed at his double entendre.

When he caught up to her, she twined her arm through his and looked up at him. “I love you so, my mad but oh so polite poet.”

He gazed at her beloved face, so full of emotion, he wondered how there ever could have been a void—but there had been. Until her. “And I love you my sensible, impatient scientist. For as long as the earth lives.”

Her eyes shone with love. “And into eternity.”