Page 24 of Better Than a Duke
Frowning even through her abrupt relief, she followed her son into the neighboring morning room. Young Rebecca lay on the couch, a cloth on her head, and a plate of biscuits and a pot of tea on the table beside her. As they walked in, the girl waved weakly at Edmund.
“I was nearly killed,” she rasped. “By an orange slice.”
“How the devil does an orange slice commit murder?” Edmund asked, sitting on the table beside the biscuits. “Tell me everything.”
“Mrs. Silbern. Iris,” Lord Hentrose said, and she started as he rose from a chair by the window. “Have you met Lady Pauline Grenedy? Pauline, Mrs. Silbern. Iris, Lady Pauline.”
A lady stood up from the other chair and offered her hand to Iris. “Charmed. Is this wonderful boy yours?”
“Yes, he is.” Iris shook hands, or tried to, because Lady Pauline’s hand flopped about so much that she worried she might pull it off by accident. Pauline was clearly a woman who’d never had to change the sheets of her own—or anyone else’s—bed. “I’m sorry; if I’d known Lord Hentrose was entertaining, I wouldn’t have allowed Edmund to return.”
“Oh, please.” Lady Pauline waved her delicate fingers. “I’m happy to meet Beckett’s neighbors. You are his neighbor, yes?”
“Yes. We’re staying at Grove House for the Season. With Lord and Lady Harold Baverstock.”
“Ah, the Baverstocks. A lovely couple.”
“Thank you.” Iris didn’t know why she was thanking Lady Pauline for approving of her aunt and uncle, because she’d certainly had nothing to do with raising them, but some response seemed to be required.
“You’re quite welcome.” The woman twirled around to face Beckett. “On that note, I should be going. I don’t doubt we’ll see each other again soon. Perhaps at the Gramercy dinner tomorrow evening?”
“I’ll make certain I’ve accepted the invitation,” Beckett said, taking her hand and bowing over it, then walking her to the door, her maid popping up from another chair and following. “Thank you for saving my daughter’s life, Pauline.”
“You exaggerate, but this has all given me a new appreciation for your strength of character, Beckett. I look forward to seeing you again.”
“I think they’re courting,” Edmund stated, turning back around to take one of the biscuits off the plate.
Rebecca made a face, which she smoothed out as her father returned to the room. “They are,” she said, and held out her hand. “A biscuit, if you please.”
“Your voice sounds better,” Edmund noted, handing over the sweet he’d taken and then helping himself to another.
“I think I’m beginning to recover.”
“How did you get choked? I’ve never choked eating an orange.” Edmund popped the entire biscuit into his mouth.
“I just… I swallowed funny, and it got stuck right in my throat. It was terrifying, Eddie.”
“You’re lucky Lady Pauline was there to pound you on the back,” Beckett observed. “Some people would have just flapped their arms in distress.”
“Well, I was distressed, and I didn’t flap my arms,” his daughter noted.
“No. You were very brave.”
Iris walked over to Beckett. “I’ll take Edmund home,” she said, lowering her voice. “I don’t doubt that Rebecca wasn’t the only one distressed.” She nearly mentioned the face his daughter had made at the word “courting,” but she had no doubt Rebecca liked things as they were. Edmund did, as well.
He took a quick breath. “Some new gray hairs sprouted. But she’s fine; I think it frightened her more than anything. I’d like her to resume bird painting, so choking won’t be the last memorable event of the day.”
“Of course.” She glanced toward the children, now naming things likely to cause choking. “If Edmund’s presence interferes with you paying court to Lady Pauline, please tell me. I’ll permit him to use my bashing shovel again so he can return to digging to the bottom of London.”
“My paramount concern in a possible new marriage is that my wife and my daughter get along. And getting along with Rebecca includes getting along with her friends.” He looked at her, gray eyes thoughtful. “Have you considered it? Remarrying, I mean.”
A shudder shook her. “No. I’ve had enough of someone else controlling the purse strings and their whims determining whether we eat meat or weak soup.” She made a face. That was all in the past. No need to pummel an innocent man with her complaints. “My only concern is seeing Edmund grow up to be a good, honorable man. I can manage that on my own.”
“I like that. I’m not so certain I can do as well on my own teaching Rebecca to be polite, demure, sure-footed, and independent all at the same time. If I were a woman dipping a toe into Society, I have the feeling I would have fled, screaming, into the night.”
Iris laughed. “I don’t claim to be an expert, by any means, and I was never demure, but I am just next door if you have any more questions about hair ribbons or hatpins.”
“Don’t jest about that; I lie awake some nights.” With a grin he gestured her toward a chair. “Please stay if you like. The two of them together are spectacular.”
