Page 30 of Better Than a Duke
“That name’s silly. I might call him Cloud. I almost said I might call him Rain, but that would be confusing.” He laughed.
“There are enough Raineses here already,” Rebecca agreed, giggling. “It would be a pretty name for a pony, though.”
“What about Mist? Or Fog?” he suggested, grimacing.
Iris, silently marveling at the change in her son since he’d found the Raines family, straightened from where she leanedagainst the stable wall. He hadn’t been so joyous in four years, and she’d begun to think he’d simply grown up too quickly and was finished with being young. She’d never been happier to be wrong. “When you were younger, you wanted a horse named Flintlock. As I recall, though, he was to be a raging black stallion who only obeyed you.”
“Mama.” Edmund’s cheeks turned pink. “I was a baby when I said that.”
“Ooh! I love Flintlock, though,” Rebecca put in, instead of teasing him. “It’s a good name for a gray horse.”
“Do you think so?”
“Oh, yes.”
Edmund turned to Lord Hentrose, seated on an upturned bucket. “What do you think, my lord?”
Yes, her son clearly worshiped the marquis, and even if Iris felt a bit jealous of the shining green eyes and respectful tone Beckett Raines had earned even before paying fifteen pounds for a pair of ponies, she had to concede that the marquis had delivered a gift so out of her reach that Edmund had stopped even asking for a horse three years ago.
“I like Flintlock,” Hentrose said, nodding. “But he’syourpony. And clearly I cannot be trusted to name a horse.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of his own mount, a large chestnut gelding that dwarfed the ones the children had acquired.
“Why?” Iris asked. “What’s your horse’s name?”
“Charles Llewelyn Biscuits,” Edmund supplied, snorting. “Can mine be Flintlock Biscuits?”
“Oh! And Dandelion Biscuits!”
Beckett stood, brushing off his backside. “Why the devil not?”
The butler, Butler, walked into the stable, lifting his feet as if he feared the entire floor was made of manure. “My lord, the Dowager Lady Hentrose and Lady Pauline Grenedy have arrived.”
The marquis lifted an eyebrow. “They have?”
“Yes, my lord. You received a note several hours ago, which I presume was from the dowager marchioness.”
“I wasn’t home.”
“No, my lord.”
He said something beneath his breath that might have been a curse. “Well, then. Evidently we’re dining with your grandmother and Lady Pauline, Cricket. We’d best go change clothes.”
“But I want to stay with Dandelion. Might I eat out here this evening?”
“No. You will not live in the stable, and Dandelion will not live in your bedchamber. Off with you.”
Making a face, Rebecca handed her brush back to Mr. Parsley and hurried out of the stable.
“Stay as long as you like, Edmund,” Beckett said, nodding at Iris. “And come visit Flintlock whenever you like—as long as you have your mother’s permission.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Beckett.”
“We haven’t kept you away too long, I hope,” he continued. “I hadn’t expected the ponies to go up for auction so late in the day.”
“We had a lovely picnic luncheon and lemon ices. I will never have a complaint when ices are involved.”
“I’ll remember that.” With a grin he inclined his head, meeting her gaze for just a moment, then headed for the stable door.
Iris shook herself out of her warm, happy thoughts and took a breath. “We’d best return to Grove House, Edmund. Aunt Margaret and Uncle Harold prefer to dine early.”
