Page 84 of Better Than a Duke
“You would also have to ride Flintlock Biscuits backward,” she pointed out, “or you wouldn’t be able to see what your kite is doing.”
“Oh! Or we could ride double, with you behind me and facing backward to hold the kite.”
Oh, good God. “No, we will not be doing that.” Beckett watched as Edmund took Rebecca’s kite and set it beside his own. “Aside from the death-defying kite-and-horse stunts, Edmund, you have the makings of a very fine older brother.”
The boy’s cheeks turned pink. “Thank you. I heard Mama say that Trent wants to have more sons with her, so I may have to be one. I already feel bad for them, though, because I’ve met their other older brothers, and they’re mean. All the Howards hate anyone who isn’t a Howard, and then some Howards hate the Howards who are meant to inherit because they aren’t, or the other Howards hate the ones who aren’t going to inherit because they are.”
“That’s a great deal of hating,” Rebecca observed.
“It is. Lord Elmond called at Grove House just to yell at Mama,” Edmund confided, helping Rebecca into the barouche and then following to sit beside her. “It’s not going to be much fun, having all those Howards about if she marries Trent. I’m not even annoyed that he won’t adopt me. I never want to be a Howard.”
“That’s a harsh lesson to learn, young man.” Beckett stepped up behind them and nodded to the driver. “I hope you know the loss is theirs. You’d be a boon to any family, mine included.”
Edmund smiled. “Thank you. I like the Raines family, too.Very much.” He made a face. “I reckon I’m going to be in a lot of fights before I’m old enough to leave and go make my own way in the world.” Shifting the kites, he sank back in the seat. “Once I’m a wealthy and more than likely celebrated solicitor, I’ll send for Mama, and she’ll live on my estate with me. I’m going to have fishing there. And a large stable.”
“Are all your horses going to be Biscuits?” Rebecca asked.
“The good ones will be. Perhaps not the carriage horses, but the saddle horses, certainly.”
Beckett cocked his head. Endlessly fascinating, the minds of children. “Good horses are Biscuits?”
“The ones we’ll be around all the time. You know, a family. Like us. We’re Biscuits.” Rebecca smiled.
“Brubbie and Mr. Fredericks are Biscuits, too,” Edmund said.
“I hesitate to ask, but am I a Biscuits?”
They laughed. “Of course you are,” Edmund answered. “You’re the first Biscuits. Well, after Charles Llewelyn Biscuits. The first human one.”
More touched than he expected, Beckett nodded. “I see. Charlie is our horse patriarch, then.”
“No, Papa. It’s not about a regular family. This is the family we’ve made. If we like you and we get along, and we go places together and laugh together, then you get to be a Biscuits.”
“I’m honored, then.”
Edmund nodded. “You should be. It is an honor to be a Biscuits.”
He gazed at them for a long moment, marveling at the pure hearts of children. “You’ve set me off the trail,” he said, blinking. “Has the duke made a formal offer to your mother, then?” Not that it was any of his concern, but he disliked the very idea of it—because it felt unfair to a woman as spirited and smart and witty as Iris Silbern.
“Not yet. But we know she won his contest. And Trent agreed to give me a stipend to keep Mama from punching him, which is good, but that’s all.” Abruptly he frowned. “I don’t like that she’s marrying him just so I get money. He’s one of the meanest Howards.”
“And he smells like old spiderwebs,” Rebecca added, wrinkling her nose. “And wet blankets.”
“Pardon my ignorance then, but why are you inviting him and his sons to your—my—dinner party tomorrow night?”
The boy sighed, his slim shoulders lowering. “Because they’re going to be part of my family, even if I’m not going to be part of theirs.”
With a silent curse he hid behind a smile, Beckett leaned forward to tousle the boy’s hair. “You are a very fine young man, Edmund Scott Silbern Biscuits.”
Rebecca bumped her friend’s shoulder. “I told you, you’re a Biscuits. Same as me and Papa.”
The moment they returned to Raines House the children ran inside to find some heavy card stock and Mrs. Brubbins. He dreaded having yet another dinner party; he would swear he’d already hosted at least a hundred of them this Season. But given Pauline’s fondness for them, he might as well become accustomed to entertaining. In addition, the children wanted to invite their future step-family members—and he couldn’t find a single reason to fault that. Or their large, open hearts. God, such hearts.
After he approved the wording of the invitations, he retreated to his study and opened his ledger book to note the day’s purchases. He’d thought marrying again would relieve him of the obligation to attend so many of the Season’s fetes. Clearly he would be attending more of them than ever, unless he wanted his new wife to go by herself while he stayed home and built furniture fortresses with Rebecca and Edmund. No, not Edmund—whenIris married Trent, they would be living at Howard House next Season, a good mile away. Edmund and Iris would be very much on their own, in a house that according to Edmund wouldn’t be the least bit welcoming to either of them.
He’d thought that he and Iris had become friends because they had so much in common. That wasn’t entirely it, though; he’d lost a wife, and Rebecca a mother she had no memory of. In remarrying, he didn’t have to leave his home, take on his new spouse’s sons—both older than himself—who viewed him as an ill-bred interloper taking advantage of their parent. And he had the freedom to choose a partner near his own age, lovely and pleasant, and one with whom he wouldn’t have to close his eyes when they shared a bed.
Iris had… the promise of a stipend for Edmund and one for herself. And the knowledge that despite the failure of five previous wives to do so, she had a fair chance to outlive Trent. God, he wished he’d met her before he’d spoken with his mother and Lady Pauline and let them set his course of action, and before she’d given up on her peers and begun bashing anyone who stood in her way. Before she’d demonstrated how very… imperfect she was.
