The carriage wheels crunched over the gravel as you peered out at the familiar sight of Aubrey Hall’s grand façade. Though you had been here many times before—first as a guest, and later as family—it always filled you with a curious mixture of awe and warmth. This was, after all, not just Benedict’s childhood home, but the place where your son would now toddle through the corridors, claiming his own share of Bridgerton mischief and history.

Your husband, seated beside you, reached for your hand. Benedict’s grip was steady, reassuring, though you could see the sparkle of anticipation in his eyes. “They’ve been writing to me endlessly about seeing the baby,” he said with a chuckle, “and I daresay Eloise may attempt to spirit him away altogether.”

You laughed softly, glancing at your son, Sebastian, who dozed peacefully in your arms, swaddled in a blanket embroidered with delicate vines. “He shall have no chance to be shy,” you replied. “With so many Bridgertons about, he will be passed from arm to arm like a treasure.”

The carriage came to a halt, and before the footman could even lower the step, Violet Bridgerton appeared at the door, her face alight with joy. “My dearest Benedict,” she exclaimed, embracing her son before turning her eyes upon you. Her gaze softened, and she touched your arm gently. “And you, my dear daughter. You look radiant.”

Behind her, a flurry of siblings spilled into the courtyard—Colin, with his usual good-humored grin; Eloise, arms folded but eyes betraying eagerness; even Anthony, who tried (with little success) to mask his delight at seeing his brother return home.

Benedict helped you descend, his hand steadying yours. You could feel the weight of many gazes as Violet leaned in to see the bundle you carried. “May I?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.

You nodded, carefully transferring your son into his grandmother’s waiting arms. At once, the Bridgertons clustered around, each vying for a glimpse of the newest member of their lively clan.

Benedict glanced at you then, a private smile curving his lips. “Home,” he murmured, his voice meant for you alone.