Page 4 of Better Than a Duke
“What? You were teasing!” With a squeal, Rebecca jumped for the window again. “Which side of the street are we?”
“This one,” he said, sliding away from that window to make room for her. “There’s a very large willow tree in front of the morning-room window, and a wrought-iron gate that will hopefully be open. Oh, and yellow roses in large urns on either side of the front door.”
“Yellow roses,” she muttered. “Willow tree. Everyone has a gate. Is that… No, those are shrubberies by the door. Oh, they’re shaped like rabbits.”
“Another rule: The garden gates remain closed. You are not to go into a neighbor’s garden without first being invited. Not even if there are rabbits. And even then, not without Mrs. Brubbins or myself knowing about and approving of the adventure.”
“But Nelly and I were trying to catch the white one in her garden,” she said, still pressed against the window. “And she’s my friend.”
“Yes, and Mrs. Brubbins and I thought you were where?” He held a hand to his ear.
Sighing, she glanced back at him. “You thought I was in the kitchen, helping Mrs. Harley bake biscuits.”
“And what did I do when you weren’t in the kitchen with Mrs. Harley baking biscuits?”
“You lost ten years off your life, had an apoplexy, and all of your hair turned gray.”
“Precisely.”
“Except your hair didn’t turn gray, because it’s still black.”
“Shoe polish.”
She snorted. “Papa.”
“Very well, but the other things did happen, and that’s the point. No off-property expeditions without prior permission from either Mrs. Brubbins or myself.”
“You make London sound very dangerous, but I think it’s exciting.”
“It is exciting, and it most definitely is dangerous. And the entirety of my heart rests on you being safe. So tell me you’ve listened, Rebecca, and that you agree to the rules I’ve presented. And acknowledge that there will be more rules to follow.”
Twisting around on her knees, she stuck out her right hand. “I have listened, Papa, and I agree to the rules. May I make a rule that Grandmama doesn’t get to pinch my cheeks?”
“No, you may not.” He shook hands with her. “I will mention to her that she has very strong fingers, probably from wagging them so often at me when I was your age. And feel free to yell ‘ouch’ whenever she becomes too exuberant.”
He actually thought it more likely the dowager marchioness’spenchant for cheek pinching came from her desire to remind a youngster who was in charge, but Georgiana Raines did have the devil of a strong grip. His own cheeks still ached when he thought about it. And now he and Rebecca would be residing less than a quarter mile away from her all Season. The stuff of nightmares.
Previously when he’d come to London during the Season he’d made a point of returning to Lincolnshire and Hentrose Park as often as he could, which in addition to giving him time with his daughter, had had the additional benefit of aiding him in avoiding a great many soirees, dinners, and the eligible females being shoved at him by his mother. This summer he would be here for the duration, and that had been another reason for deciding he would make the acquaintance of Lady Pauline Grenedy. If he rejected her out of hand, there would be others. So many others. And however little he trusted his mother’s machinations, she did genuinely care about the family’s reputation and lineage. Hopefully in this instance his need for a mother for Rebecca meshed with the dowager marchioness’s obsession.
“Dash it, are you certain you told me the correct side of the street?” Rebecca asked, her face glued to the glass again.
“Yes. Keep looking.”
“I see three girls with their governess. They have… Oh, they have a puppy! It’s so adorable! Papa, are you listening?”
“No. I’m asleep. And—” Beckett feigned a sneeze. “Oh, blast it all. I’m allergic to dogs.”
His daughter shouted a laugh. “You are not! The—I see it! A giant willow tree, yellow roses, and an open gate! That’s it! We’re here! It’s Raines House!”
“So it is. Don’t spring out like a panther; give the staff a moment to gather. They’re very excited to meet you.”
Jamming her yellow bonnet on her black hair, she jutted her chin at him. “Tie my ribbon.”
He tied a bow beneath her chin, flicked a finger along her cheek, and did his damnedest to hide the deep breath he took. This wasn’t just Rebecca’s first time coming to London. It also marked his last as a widowed gentleman. Well, he supposed he’d still be widowed, but he also meant to be—needed to be—remarried.
Just outside the coach a dozen men and women wearing smiles and black-and-white livery hurried out the door, exactly what he’d wanted to see when Rebecca arrived at Raines House for the first time. And in five minutes, she’d have them all wound around her little finger, just as she did the staff at Hentrose Park.
“Now, Papa? I see Brubbie!”
