Page 76 of Better Than a Duke
Becks climbed out of bed, smoothed her skirts, and walked over to him. “Thank you for helping me, Eddie. Even if we don’t get to be brother and sister, you’re my family.”
He smiled. “Whether we’re Silberns or Howards or Raineses, we’re all Biscuits, now.”
Becks hugged him. “We are. Eddie Silbern Biscuits and Becks Raines Biscuits.” She looked at Mrs. Brubbins, who seemed tohave poked herself in the eye. Both eyes, from the way she was tearing up. “And Brubbie Biscuits.”
“Oh, heavens. Let’s get on with creating some mayhem, because just the idea of you two not being together makes me weepy.”
“I’m going to go into the upstairs sitting room,” he said, moving to the door, “so I can see when Masquerade gets here. Don’t touch the box. If the ruckus begins too early, she won’t be caught in the middle of it.”
“Just what is this ruckus going to be?” Mrs. Brubbins asked, eyeing the box.
“It’s better if you don’t know. Then you can be surprised, too.”
With that he left the room, shutting the door behind him again, and crept into the sitting room three doors down. From the window there he could just see the portico over the front door, and he sank onto his knees to begin his watch.
He’d only been there for a minute when a big black coach rolled up and stopped, and Masquerade took Butler’s hand to step to the ground. She wore a very fancy-looking green gown, and she had a little hat with what looked like a stuffed bird perched on top of it. He would never wear a dead bird on his head, but he wasn’t a chit, either. Then again, he’d seen a sketch of Daniel Boone with a badger or something onhishead, and Boone wasn’t a chit, and a badger wasn’t a bird.
Masquerade’s maid climbed out of the coach behind her, and no one helped her step down. Taking a breath, Edmund crawled away from the window and then stood up again. “She’s here,” he said, slipping back into Becks’s bedchamber. “What do you think? Should we wait until they sit down to eat and then make our ruckus? Or should we do it now, so she can run away faster?”
Becks twisted up her face. “I want her to leave now, but I think it’ll be better if they’re sitting down. Are you certain they’ll hear our ruckus from the breakfast room?”
“Oh, I’m certain.” Walking over, he put his hand on the top of the box. “We’ll say I wanted to show you something, so I went out into the hallway while you dressed. And then we went downstairs, and I’ll accidentally drop the box right outside the breakfast room. You scream and open the door, and then… a ruckus.”
“But I’m already dressed.”
“Yes. That’s just our story, though, so it makes sense. A gentleman can’t be in a lady’s bedchamber while she’s dressing.”
“Thank you, Master Edmund,” Mrs. Brubbins said, keeping an eye on the box. “You are a very considerate young man.”
He grinned. “Make certain you tell my mama that when she’s sending me upstairs without dinner for the next ten years.”
They waited for twenty minutes, taking turns pulling the strings and sending Becks’s wooden tops spinning about the floor. Then the big clock downstairs chimed the half hour, and he stood up again. “It’s time.”
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Brubbins muttered, folding her hands together for a few seconds like she was praying before she left the room to fetch soup.
He and Becks made their way down the stairs, and he jiggled the box just a little as he went. Becks knew he had a red squirrel inside, but she didn’t know all of it. And that was better, because he wanted everyone to be surprised. Finally, they stopped just short of the open breakfast room door. Inside he heard Lord Hentrose’s low voice, and the higher, sick-sweet Masquerade answering him.
“Ready?” he mouthed.
Becks nodded, then took a breath. “I want to see what’s inside,” she said, not too loudly, and not too quietly.
“No,” he answered in the same tone. “You have to wait until we get outside.”
“But I—”
“Wait, Becks! Don’t—”
He tossed the box in the direction of the breakfast room. The lid popped off, and three red squirrels exploded into the hallway. One immediately darted into the breakfast room; Becks screamed as she was meant to do; another squirrel headed for the foyer; the third one veered between Edmund’s legs and then followed the first one.
That was better than he’d hoped for. Remembering to curse, he picked up the box again and ran into the breakfast room, Becks on his heels. “Look out!” he yelled, grabbing for the squirrel running up the length of the table and missing it by a foot.
“Papa, don’t hurt them!” Becks shrieked, and jumped up on a chair. “How many are there, Eddie? Oh, they’re everywhere!”
“Three. They were very hard to catch.”
Masquerade—Lady Pauline, as he needed to remember to call her to her face—jumped to her feet, her glass of orange juice tipping over and cream from a cup spattering into the air. One of the squirrels leaped for the window, grabbing on to the green curtains and climbing up to the rod across the top.
The other squirrel dodged back along the tabletop, toward Becks. She yelped, bent down and pulled off a shoe, and threw it in the general direction of the squirrel. The animal bounced down to the floor and beneath the table, and the shoe bounced, too, hit the teapot, and knocked it sideways. Hot water splashed everywhere.
