Page 41 of Better Than a Duke
She faced him. He didn’t move, not certain whether he should expect a punch or a kiss. The latter, however poorly it painted him, he wouldn’t have objected to at all. Instead, though, she slid her arms around his chest and put her face against his shoulder. “Thank you for saying that. I thought I had friends here in London. Women who came out the same year I did, some of whom I’d known even before that. But their lives are so different from mine, and they want nothing to do with me. I… Thank you for being a friend.”
He closed his arms around her shoulders. “Most of my friends are married and can’t remember the ages of their own children. I do understand. And I’m honored to be considered your friend, Iris, as I consider you mine.”
“Thank you,” she said again, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
“You’re welcome. And as your friend, I am going to advise you to stop punching people.”
Her shoulder stiffened beneath his arms. “I—”
“If a man approaches you boldly enough to state that you must be hungry for any man’s… touch, shall we say, I would imagine a response along the lines of ‘Not your touch, goblin,’ or ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to go vomit’ might suffice.”
She snorted. “I’m going to write those down and carry them with me.”
“Good. If I may, in my thirty-one years of life I have observed that one thing thick-skulled bullies and cockish churls can’t account for is a lady who is smarter and braver than themselves. It baffles them. And in the ensuing silence, feel free to walk away, swishing your skirt as you go.”
Iris lifted her head to look up at him, her hazel eyes brown in the dim room. “Aunt Margaret is encouraging me to be more social, with the idea that if I lose the Duke of Trent’s contest, someone else will scoop me up.”
Beckett stopped the forward lean he’d been contemplating.What the devil was wrong with him? Instead he shrugged, releasing her. “You haven’t asked me for advice, but I say you should dance and speak when and with whom you wish. You have your own plans, whatever Trent’s spinning about, so please yourself.”
One hazel eye twitched. “I’ve been thinking about Trent. A match with him does make a degree of sense.”
His jaw clenched, something uglier than anger cutting into him before he could push back against it. Deliberately he backed up a step, keeping his mouth shut until his sensibilities had caught up to the louder part of him that didn’t like even the idea of a lady not yet thirty—this lady—being shackled to an old man more in need of a nursemaid than a wife.
He took a deep breath. “Do what serves you best, Iris. That is what I recommend. I’m not acquainted with Trent, so I cannot speak to his character. I will only suggest that you proceed with him as I’m doing with Pauline, making her acquaintance before I decide anything. It’s not only our own lives we’re responsible for any longer.”
“Precisely.” She smiled, rolling her shoulders as she turnedfor the door. “Would you mind leaving the room first? I’ll wait a moment before I emerge.”
“Certainly. As far as the ton is concerned, we are parents whose children are friends. We don’t want that changing.”
“Thatiswhat we are, yes?”
“Yes. Of course it is.”
“I stopped by the gaming room—both gaming rooms—and he’s not there, either. He wouldn’t have left, would he?” Lady Pauline Grenedy kept her expression faintly amused, as if having a chat about someone’s poor fashion choices.
The Dowager Lady Hentrose wore a smile, as well. “I have no idea, my dear. I very much doubt he would spend his time wagering, as he would rather be at home doing nothing, but as he’s danced with you, I don’t know that he considers himself obligated to remain here.”
“I don’t mean to speak ill of anyone,” Pauline returned, nodding, “but is there something that can be done about the girl? Perhaps not another relation, but a school? He spends so much time doting on her, and every time I turn around she’s there, glowering at me.”
“I have been trying to get him to send Rebecca to a boarding school for the past four years, Pauline. He won’t listen to me. I doubt he’ll listen to you. I suggest you wait until you’re married and then begin tickling his ear about how much better it would be for Rebecca not to be so dependent on her father. Something about independence and being smothered.”
“I mean to begin that the moment the pastor pronounces us wed. You had the right of it when you said children were like leeches. Does it ever stop?”
“No. Beckett doesn’t demand anything of me any longer, and he hasn’t for years, but it seems to me he went directly fromwanting to show me insects to claiming a disdain for everything about me. It’s a mother’s lot to go without pause from being the center of a child’s life to a… a devil who intrudes not out of an abundance of care, but for some selfish reason or other. It’s quite maddening.”
“I don’t look forward to it. At least knowing all of that I’ll be able to deal with the girl and whatever child comes after her.” She shuddered, covering that with a sip of Madeira. “I wish we hadn’t had to encourage the idea that he needs a son, Georgiana.”
“He’s already convinced himself he doesn’t require a wife for companionship. A son and aiding in the raising of his daughter were the only things left. And don’t bemoan it overmuch; it seems to be working.”
“Oh, I agree. I only wish it hadn’t been necessary. He’s a handsome man, and I certainly don’t object to sharing a bed with him, but I don’t have to tell you that pregnancy can ruin an entire Season, not to mention what compromises in wardrobe a lady has to make.”
“And we never receive credit for our sacrifices, either.”
“It’s practically criminal.”
The dowager marchioness put her hand over Pauline’s. “It is so lovely to have found a kindred spirit, my dear, when I had begun to despair of ever convincing Beckett to marry again. Without my influence, he would pay no mind at all to who will inherit the marquisdom, his properties, and his money after him.”
A genuine smile curved Pauline’s mouth. As much as she loathed the idea of babies everywhere, of children underfoot making noise and messes, the thought of her as-yet unconceived son becoming a marquis, taking command of the extensive Hentrose properties, being bowed to and consulted and respected by everyone, and her on his arm knowing what she had accomplished behind the scenes in order to make all of it possible, gave her happyshivers. “It’s early yet, my lady. But he’s on our path. We’ll see him through the church door well before the end of the Season.”
