Page 79 of Better Than a Duke
Oh, she didn’t want to talk about that. Seeing the sights was a great deal more fun than dwelling on her future. “Different, but not better. I believe we have a clearer idea of what we expect of each other in the event he does offer for me, which I think he will.”
“You’ll accept, then?”
“I don’t know why I wouldn’t,” she said, keeping her voice light and breezy. “He’s agreed to a yearly stipend for me and for Edmund. I’ll be a duchess, much more difficult to kick out of Society, and I won’t have to go from relative to relative offering to push them about while they recover from gout.”
He took a breath. “I admire you, Iris. A great deal. But there are moments when I think your… damned need to make your own way is the largest obstacle in your life.” He turned away, then abruptly faced her again. “I’m terribly fond of you, Iris Regina Flexing Silbern.”
She swallowed, her heart thrumming like a hummingbird. “Likewise, Beckett Arthur Raines. You make me wish I was… better than I am.” Better, more tolerant, less sharp-edged.
“Don’t say th—”
“Papa! Can you ride a zebra?” Rebecca bounced back to them and grabbed her father’s arm.
“No, I can’t,” he answered, sending Iris a last glance and then allowing himself to be towed forward.
“I mean, can someone—I—ride a zebra? Is it a rideable animal?”
“Well, let’s have a look and figure that out, shall we? And no, you’re not getting a zebra.”
“I’m only asking.”
Behind them and out of Beckett’s hearing, Iris gripped an iron post. Getting strawberry cream all over Beckett Raines’s coat eleven years ago was both the best and the worst thing she’d ever done. The best, because they’d both been frivolous and very young, and the worst, because life had shaped them into two very different people who now… fit. A little. And while in the dreamiest of daydreams she could imagine a life where he and she were together, happy parents to two or more happy children, her eyes couldn’t stay shut for that long. She’d run into something. Life, mainly.
“Mama?”
Shaking herself, she lifted her head. “I’m sorry, Pickle,” she said, putting on a grin and reaching out to tousle Edmund’s hair. “I was imagining us all riding zebras about London.”
Edmund snorted. “I told Becks they’re too small. She and I could ride them, but Lord Hentrose’s feet would practically touch the ground. And the keeper says every time he turns his back one of them tries to bite him in the arse.”
“That could be a problem,” she agreed, motioning him forward and falling in beside him.
“How far is Trent Park from Hentrose Park?” he asked. “I’d like to be able to visit Becks after the Season and make certain she’s happy.”
“I have no idea. I’ll have to ask.”
“Yes, please. I hope it’s not too far away. Becks gets worried about things sometimes. She needs somebody to tell her that even if bad things happen, she still has friends.”
“That’s very kind of you.” And for some reason, it made hertear up. Rebecca wasn’t the only one who worried about things. As a six-year-old, Edmund had had his world flipped on its head. Now he seemed to assume they were just waiting for the next bad thing to happen, and that he had to be ready for it.
“It would be fun to visit Hentrose Park anyway,” he went on, skipping forward a step or two before he settled into a walk again. “Becks said they have a pond. With fish. And it’s big enough for punting.”
“Ah. So you’re a punter, now?”
“There, I will be. Otherwise, I think I’ve made up my mind to be a solicitor. Maybe I can’t helpus,but I can make sure other people’s relations don’t take their houses from them without even asking.”
Goodness. “That’s a noble goal,” she said, when she really wanted to scoop him up in her arms and hug him senseless. Somehow, even with her… fury at it all, he’d managed to take one of the worst moments of his life and use it for something positive. “Your future sounds quite exciting.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Becks already knows she’s going to be a portraitist, but I’d rather be able to tell snooty, spoiled people, ‘No, you’re not going to do that.’”
“You make me quite proud, you know.”
He slowed, looking up at her. “Is it odd that a chit is my closest friend? Aunt Lady Margaret says it’s odd, and I should be out pretending to swordfight and not paint birds.” Edmund sighed. “We do swordfight, but we like to read about things, too. And paint. And Aunt Lady Margaret complained about my sewer hole, so I had to move it even though I liked the first spot better. Digging is for boys, isn’t it?”
“My darling dear, I believe a friend is someone who matches you on the inside. Their outside doesn’t matter. Rebecca’s insides and your insides are a good fit. And for heaven’s sake, don’t takeadvice from Aunt Margaret. Have you seen how many people she’s attempted to run down with that chair of hers?”
Laughing, he gripped her hand, then released it again. “Thank you. We are a good fit. I’m glad that you and Lord Hentrose fit, too.”
Oh dear. What had he noticed? “What do you mean?”
