Page 65 of Better Than a Duke
“That’s enough of that, Mr. Fredericks,” Papa stated, the amusement leaving his voice. “We have children here.”
Immediately the tutor stood up and bowed nearly double. “I apologize, my lord.”
Rebecca waited, but other than straightening, Mr. Fredericks didn’t move or say anything else. Then he sat down again, stacking his papers in front of him. “I think you broke him, Papa,” she said, twisting in her chair to look at her father.
“Ibroke him,” he grumbled, frowning. “I’m only establishing rules.” Then he cleared his throat. “I believe Mrs. Brubbins is more than capable of managing the lesson. Is Mrs. Silbern about, Edmund?”
Beneath the table Rebecca grabbed Eddie’s hand and squeezed it. If her papa was looking for his mama, that was a very good thing. “I hope you’re going to apologize about Delilah,” she said, squaring her shoulders and releasing her partner again.
“I alrea… Yes, that is what I’m going to do, as a matter of fact.”
“I think she’s dressing so she can push Aunt Lady Margaret at a luncheon party.”
“Well, then. Perhaps I’ll have a chat with Lord Harold.”
“Don’t rhyme to him,” Eddie cautioned. “He threatened to take a broom to Mr. Fredericks last week.”
Papa inclined his head. “Thank you, Edmund, for the information. I try to avoid cranial inflammation.”
Edmund snorted, then fell out of his chair and onto the floor. “He rhymed! You rhymed, my lord!”
Rebecca laughed, too. It was quite funny, even if her father wasn’t going to be able to chat with Mrs. Silbern and fall in love with her this morning. There would be dinner tonight, and the next day she was going to ask to go to the Tower Menagerie before they had to go to the theater with Lady Pauline. If Mrs. Silbern was scared of lions, she might just leap into his arms, and that would take care of several things at once—if they were lucky, and the missus wasn’t too plucky.Ha ha.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“It was kind of the duchess to invite both of us to her tea,” Aunt Margaret commented, putting an arm around Gerald’s shoulder and the other around Tollins’s so they could haul her in a seated position down the stairs.
“Yes. Will any men be present?”
“It’s a widows’ tea, dear. Why so suspicious?”
“You’ve already thrown a duke at me. I have no idea who you might have decided would be next best to remove Edmund and me from beneath your roof.” Iris hefted the back of the chair in her hands, while Charles, the junior footman, lifted the front and descended the stairs backward in front of her. “Youhavebeen after me to dance with every unmarried man in London.”
“Everyone has plans and plays games, Iris. Why should I be any different? Surely you know by now that an invitation is rarely just an invitation. It’s far more likely to be a test, something the rest of the ton will view and judge. And they pay special attention to any weaknesses. Like one’s temper, for example. And then they pick at it until it breaks.”
Her temper. One could only be hit by a carriage a certainnumber of times before one began detesting carriages. “My temper is not a weakness,” she stated aloud, mostly to be contrary. “I will not be trod upon.”
“Anyone with half a mind would not attempt to tread on you twice.”
Iris nearly missed a step at the low, amused tone coming from the foyer below. “Lord Hentrose?” she squeaked, heat rushing beneath her skin and down between her thighs. “What are you doing here?”
He walked into view. “I came to see Mr. Fredericks for myself. He’s… unique. According to Rebecca I may have broken him, however, when I pointed out that a nine-year-old girl was not to be painted as a man-eater, even in iambic pentameter.”
“That man should be sacked,” Margaret put in, seated in her servants’ arms and waiting as her chair finished descending the stairs. “Insufferably high in the instep, especially for a servant, and he dresses like Beau Brummel himself.”
“More colorfully, though,” Beckett noted, reaching up to take the chair from Iris. “You may have some difficulty keeping Rebecca away from Edmund’s lessons.”
“She’s always welcome here,” her aunt put in before Iris could do more than smile. “We’re honored to host the Marquis of Hentrose’s daughter whenever she chooses to come calling.” She settled into the chair, gripping the arms to lean forward. “I’ll have tea sent up for her. Or does she prefer lemonade? Tollins, see to it.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“That’s not necessary,” Beckett countered. “If my daughter becomes thirsty, she will ask for a drink. She’s quite capable of expressing herself.” His gaze shifted from Margaret to Iris. “Where are you off to?”
“A luncheon,” she answered, hoping he had Margaret’sattention so the woman wouldn’t see her blushing. It wasn’t embarrassment, though. It was lust, pure and simple. She wanted him again. She wanted him naked, and her naked, and something more comfortable beneath them than the ground.
“Yes,” Margaret took up. “A luncheon at the Duchess of Richmond’s home.”
“You know, I believe I accepted the invitation for that,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Might I impose on you to share your carriage?”
