Page 40 of Better Than a Duke
“Do you have any idea how handsome you are?” she said, lowering her voice. “If I were the sort of female who tittered or swooned, you would be dragging me about the floor now.”
Chuckling, Beckett reminded himself that he wasn’t there to reminisce either about his marriage or about the kiss he’d shared with Iris Silbern. This was about a future for himself and for Rebecca—and for Pauline, of course. “I am pleased to hear that you are not that sort of female, Pauline.”
“I know it’s only been a few days, but I am pleased with our acquaintance, Lord Hentrose.” She lowered her lashes. “Quite pleased.”
“As am I.”
“Good. Your mother has invited me to dine with you again tomorrow night, by the by. I wouldn’t dream of intruding again so quickly, but she can be quite insistent.”
“I’m aware.” He grimaced. “I’ve no objection, but I don’t mean to let her set our calendar, either.”
“I agree. I think she would push matters along at the slightest opportunity. I therefore suggested that she also invite a handful of mutual friends and acquaintances, so we won’t be the center of the event—or so at least it won’t appear that way. We’ll have a chance to chat, and you’ll have a chance to meet some of my friends, and I, yours.”
A party, then.Joy. Stifling his sigh, Beckett nodded. “That seems reasonable and sound. Children?”
“It’s not usual for children to be included at a dinner,” she returned, smiling. “Rebecca is welcome, but having her there would point out to everyone present that something unusual is afoot.”
“Yes, you have the right of it. It’s interesting, attempting to view everything from anything other than a parent’s perspective.”
“I would be surprised if it wasn’t strange for you, Beckett. She has been the center of your life, and your sole responsibility, for nine years. Soon, if all goes as I’m beginning to hope, you won’t be alone in caring about her or her future.” She leaned her head closer to his. “I’ve recently discerned that your mother… might not have been as helpful or supportive as you might have wished after your wife’s death. I do like Lady Hentrose, but I think it’s safe to note that none of us are perfect.”
He looked at her, at her pretty blue eyes, her full ruby lips, and the hopeful smile on her face. “No one save you, perhaps.”
Her smile deepened. “Well. That is perhaps the best compliment I have ever received. I shall be blushing all evening, I daresay.”
“A compliment looks good on you, Pauline.”
As he spoke the music ended, and the two of them joined in the applause. Abrupt movement caught his eye, and he looked past Pauline’s shoulder to see Michael Agnew stepping backward from his partner, one hand on his nose and red leaking from his fingers.Good God.
Swiftly he escorted Pauline to her next partner, then excused himself to go find his neighbor. It took a few moments, because she’d made quite a stir, then vanished from the ballroom. Nor was she in the drawing room or the billiards room or the card room or either of the pair of sitting rooms also open to guests. Blast it. The air stirred at his back, and he turned to see a half-open door that he was fairly certain had been shut earlier.
He slipped through the opening to find the library, dark and deserted with the festivities going on beyond its walls. Libraries deserved more parties, he thought. Reading parties, where everyone chose their favorite book and read a passage. To themselves. “Iris?” he whispered.
“Go away.”
Shutting the door quietly behind him, he stepped deeper into the room. “If it makes a difference, Mr. Agnew is telling everyone that he moved to bow when you curtsied, and his nose struck your shoulder. Most guests seem to be at least pretending to believe him.”
“Do you?”
“No. I think you punched him.”
She made a growling sound. “Am I so—”
“I also think he did something to deserve it,” Beckett broke in. “What happened? Do I need to go punch him, as well?”
Iris flung out her hands, then jabbed them onto her hips again. “He offered to warm my cold bed for me, as I must be stiff with urgency after such an extended, involuntary celibacy.”
Abrupt anger slicing through him, he curled his hand into a fist, his offer of a punch seeming quite reasonable now. Iris had already dealt with the insult, though, and with a slow, deliberate breath he loosened his fingers again. She neither wanted nor expected a rescue, and he was too late to offer one, anyway.
Standing in front of the window in her gown of green sparkles, her gaze on the torchlit garden beyond, she looked like a faerie princess.Good God. He’d been reading too many of Rebecca’s fanciful books. “Men are generally idiots,” he offered, stopping beside her. “Though you know that already.”
“Why areyounot an idiot, Beckett?”
“Most likely because I am a father raising a young daughter. It forces a massive altering of one’s perspective.” He stopped,debating whether he wanted to continue and risk hitting his nose on her shoulder as Mr. Agnew was claiming. “You do know this renewed interest in you isn’t just because of Trent, though. I mean, it is, but only in the sense that his interest has caused you to be declared an unmarried woman once again, rather than simply a dismissible widow.”
“I prefer being dismissible. And missable.”
Beckett chuckled. “You are not missable. Outstanding and fierce, yes. And quite fetching.”
