Page 85 of Better Than a Duke
When he looked at Pauline, his first thought was that she would be exceptional at helping Rebecca navigate Society. That was his goal, with a son thrown in to make things easier down the road for Rebecca. The first thing he thought of when he looked at Iris, however, was that he wanted her in his bed, wanted to wake up beside her in the morning and listen to the children—their children—laughing together. But laughing wasn’t subtle. Iris wasn’t subtle. And Society was supremely subtle.
A fist knocked at his half-open door. Beckett jumped. “Enter.”
“I heard a rumor that you’re hosting a dinner party tomorrow evening.” Iris, striking even in her not-quite-fashionablebrown-and-green gown, strolled into the room. Swishing her skirt, she dropped out of his daydream and right into the chair opposite him.Good God.
Trying to shake the dreamy wisps out of his head, Beckett sat forward. The images, though, now summoned, kept swirling through his mind. Kissing Iris in the garden, in the dining room, in the drawing room, making a leisurely exploration of her curves in the library, and that didn’t even take into account Hentrose Park and the forty-eight rooms therein.
“Beckett?”
He blinked again. “Hm?”
“Where did you go?” she asked, her smile deepening.
“Somewhere quieter and much less chaotic, I’m certain,” he improvised. “And yes, I am having a party insomuch as I am footing the bill, but this is all Rebecca and Edmund. And I doubt they mentioned it, but from what I could gather, they mean for all of us to be friends. Edmund especially wants the Howards to know they’re welcome, whether he thinks he will be or not.”
Her smile faded. “Oh. I suppose he overheard me talking with one of them, or with you. It was stupid of me not to tell him how little… warmth he should expect from the Howards. He’s clearly figured it out all on his own, and without me to soften the blow.”
“But you’re not agreeing to this because you want a family. You want to be able to support your son.”
“Yes. If that makes me a horrible woman, then I’m a horrible woman. I would do worse to give him a good life.”
He wanted to remind her that he’d attempted to offer her a loan. Hell, he would give her the money. While he did understand the reasons she’d refused, he disagreed that lending or giving her anything would obligate her to him. Considering the alternative now, though, perhaps she might wish to revisit the issue. “Edmund also mentioned that Trent isn’t finished having sons.”
Her cheeks flushed. “That is no concern of yours, Beckett. Our… friendship ends with our engagements. Next Season Rebecca and Edmund will find other friends, he and I will be at Howard House, and you will be remarried and… trying for a son, yourself.”
“Does that mean that after we’ve done as we must, any thoughts about you and Edmund, whom I adore, by the way, are going to flit out of my brain?”
“Life doesn’t always proceed as we would wish.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Though I will admit that you’ve reminded me I am more than a mother. I am a woman. I have desires, and dreams.” Iris straightened again. “I’m also old enough to acknowledge that desires and dreams aren’t always satisfied. Or wise.”
Beckett eyed her. “I liked it better when you punched everything in your way.”
“My temper hasn’t improved my circumstances.” She cleared her throat. “Just the opposite. I’m resolving to use it more wisely.”
Setting his hands on the desktop, Beckett stood. “Well, yousounddefeated. Which, I know, isn’t supposed to be my concern. Point taken. The children are in the morning room, writing out invitations.”
He didn’t like it. At all. He could see alternatives for her, whether she wished to contemplate them or not. With some assistance from him, both she and Edmund could at least have the life she’d claimed to want when they’d first met, with her owning a boardinghouse and renting rooms. That would give her a measure of independence. A very small, limited, precarious measure.
None of it was acceptable. The things he wanted for her, her happiness, a burden taken off her shoulders, a future for Edmund that the lad would want, he couldn’t give her. Not without creating a massive scandal that would hurt everyone involved. It wasn’tjust up to him, anyway. Iris had come to an understanding with the Duke of Trent. By this time next week, and with a special license from Canterbury, they could be married.
As they walked into the morning room, Edmund stood up, tugging on the bottom of his coat to straighten it. “Mama, Becks and I are having Lord Hentrose give a dinner party tomorrow night. Would you like to attend and be my guest?”
Rebecca glanced up from her writing. “He’s only asking you so he doesn’t have to write out an invitation.”
“My hand is turning into a claw!”
Her mouth curving, Iris curtsied. “I would be delighted to accompany you, Edmund.”
“Now you have one less to do than me,” Rebecca protested.
Making a face, Edmund sat again. “I’ll help you if I finish first. I write faster than you.”
“Legibility and speed are not good compatriots, you must concede,” Mr. Fredericks commented, looking up from printing the address on one of the invitations.
“Oh, that was a good one, Mr. Fredericks,” Rebecca complimented. “And very true.”
“Thank you, Lady Becks.” The tutor glanced up at Beckett, then returned to his lettering. “I have no wish, you or your father to further vex.”
Beckett gazed at the bald pate of the absurd, gangly man presently glowing with pleasure at a kind word from a nine-year-old girl as he sat assisting said girl with her dinner party invitations. According to his understanding of how it worked, that meant Mr. Fredericks was also a Biscuits. As was the governess seated beside him, sprinkling sand across the invitations to set the ink.
