Page 99 of Better Than a Duke
This man had been waiting, trouserless, old lobcock swinging about, in the morning room. For Iris. The words Beckett wanted to say would get him banned from every ton soiree and several gentlemen’s clubs. “Put your damned trousers on, Trent,” he growled, closing his teeth over the rest of it.
“But His Grace is to marry Iris,” Lady Margaret exclaimed.
“Iam not marrying Trent!” Pauline shouted, yanking her sleeves back over her shoulders again. “He’s old! I want Hentrose! And that stupid daughter of his can go to the devil! This is all her fault! I’m certain of it!”
“Stop complaining, you hoyden. I’m making you a duchess.” Cackling, the duke took his trousers from Butler and sat on the couch to pull them on.
Beckett glanced over the duke’s head at Iris.What had just happened? More to the point, what had they just escaped? After this, it would be Trent’s duty to wed Lady Pauline, and hers to accept Trent’s offer. Given what Pauline had just said about Rebecca, he didn’t have a quarrel in the world with any of that, but how in the devil had he mistaken her animosity toward the nine-year-old as mere awkwardness?
“I am ashamed I ever considered a match with you, Your Grace,” Iris said, her voice a little unsteady. “If this was meant for me, then I can only express support and pity for Lady Pauline for falling into your trap.” She took a breath. “Though given Lady Pauline’s state of undress, it seems she had compromising someone’s honor on her mind, as well.”
“You shrew,” Pauline snapped. “No doubt you’ve already g—”
“The evening is over,” Beckett broke in, turning his back on Pauline and Trent. “I apologize to everyone not involved in this fiasco, and I can only recommend that you follow your own conscience where… discussing this event is concerned.”
“Beckett, we have an understanding,” Pauline said, her voice plaintive.
“And my daughter?” he snapped, facing her again. “You have some thoughts about her?”
“Not once she left for boarding school, the stupid little wretch.”
“Ahh. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, then.” Helowered his voice. “Return my coat, Pauline. And never speak to me or to Mrs. Silbern again.”
“But Beckett—”
“One more thing. The mare, Delilah? She’s Iris’s. Not yours. She won’t be leaving my stable. Good evening, Lady Pauline.”
Lord Elmond shoved his way into the room. “That does it, you old rooster,” he snapped at his father. “Marry her. But now you’ve embarrassed the Howard name. My legacy. You will therefore reside in quiet, contented domesticity with…” He sent a glare at Pauline. “… your new duchess, in the country. Pop out however many brats you choose. They will get nothing. And you, my lady, will be out of Trent Park on your arse an hour after he finally kicks off. Though it’d serve you right if the old fool lives for another decade.”
“No! I was tricked! I—”
“Shut it, wife-to-be. I don’t like whining.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Would you join me, Mrs. Silbern?” Beckett asked, offering his arm to Iris. “Butler, please see to the guests and then find me in the kitchen when you’ve finished.”
Iris put her hand around his sleeve.Good heavens. She’d never wished to be blind, but the last five minutes were a near thing. Trent and his naked, flapping cock had been waiting there for her. One more shame, one more embarrassment to remind her that the only reason she would ever be accepted in Society would be because he’d deigned to allow her to attach “duchess” to her name—as long as she shared a bed with him.
“Beckett,” his mother said sharply. “I require a word with you.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the dowager marchioness. “Go home, Mother. I’ll deal with you later.”
Halfway to the kitchen, the guests still shouting and gabbing and swearing and laughing behind them, Iris pulled him to a stop. “What just happened?”
“I have no idea,” he answered her. “I’m running away to thekitchen to see to the children and hide until everyone leaves. Are you with me?”
“Absolutely.”
He started off again, then stopped. “You did note that your aunt was still advocating for you to wed Trent, didn’t you?”
“I did.” Iris tightened her grip on his arm. “She wouldn’t have done that on purpose, would she? I mean, if that had been me, she wouldn’t have screamed and drawn everyone’s attention to the morning room. I know she and Harold have been impatient to be rid of us, but…” She stopped. Of course her aunt had been involved. Why else would she venture into the morning room in the first place? “That witch.”
“I concur.”
“And Trent. He…” She trailed off, beginning to feel as if she’d come within an inch of being caught in a wave and swept under the ocean to drown. “I’m beginning to be horrified all over again.”
“I’m still somewhere between disbelief and rage.” He gripped her hand. “If you’d gone in there… I can’t—” He stopped, turning around. “Excuse me. I need to go thrash someone.”
