Page 95 of Better Than a Duke
“How was I to know that?” Beckett countered. “I thought you were fleeing something. But if youaremeeting him out here, why are you hiding behind the wall in the wrong garden?”
“Because I don’t want to meet him. For heaven’s sake, I’m not a lunatic. I detest the man. But… I don’t know what else to do, Beckett. I have no other options.”
He lifted a hand as if he wanted to touch her, then lowered it again. “You do have another option.”
“What, you? You’ve decided I should be your mistress? That’s not a very good example either of us would be setting for Becks or Edmund, is it?” Turning her back, she stomped through the garden toward her aunt and uncle’s house.
“Why the devil would I ask you to be my mistress when we both know that would only get me a well-deserved punch in the face?” he asked, moving around in front of her. “And why are you so mad atme? What have I done to you?”
Other than make me fall in love with you? Nothing. “Never mind any of that. Shouldn’t I be congratulating you on your betrothal?Why are you even out here? You have other things to see to. I am not one of them.”
He took a step closer. “I haven’t—”
Beckett vanished. No, not vanished, she amended, looking down to see the top two feet of him protruding from the ground. “Oh no! Edmund said he’d moved his—goodness, it’s deep! Are you injured?”
“Dammit,” he cursed, hopping up and down like a mad toddler and going nowhere. “It’s too narrow. I seem to be stuck.”
A very inappropriate grin curved her lips. “But you’re not hurt.”
“No, I’m not hurt. Well, my pride, and perhaps my arse, but otherwise I’m undamaged.”
Iris tried to hold in her laugh, tried to stifle it, shove it back down into her chest. It burst forth anyway. Loud, long, and accompanied by several snorts. “You’re quite short,” she chortled.
“I am not short,” Beckett protested, a grin tugging at his own mouth. “I am two-thirds buried. I demand that you assist me, wench.”
Kneeling in front of him, she leaned forward. “What seems to be the difficulty, sirrah?”
“I can’t bend my damned knees. This is very unsound digging practice. Try putting the shovel handle in front of me so I can push down on it.”
With a twist she caught hold of the shovel and dragged it around in front of herself. Still laughing, she positioned it as he asked. “How’s that?”
“Let’s see.” Gripping it with both hands, he pushed down, straightening his arms. Two feet or so of him lifted out of the hole—and he toppled forward. “Ouch!”
“Beckett!” As he started to slide back into the hole, shegrabbed one of his arms and pulled backward. “Are you injured now?”
“My manly bits have been crushed,” he rasped.
Iris snorted again. “I’m certain Lady Pauline will be disappointed. I know I would be.”
Shifting, Beckett lifted his free arm and dug his fingers into the dirt. “She has no reason to be. I didn’t propose to her. Pull, dammit!”
His hand nearly slipped out of hers, and she grabbed it harder, taking hold with both of her hands. “You didn’t propose? I thought that was why you trotted off after her earlier.”
“It was. I couldn’t do it.”
Sudden strength surged through Iris, and she pulled until he came out of the hole, she tipped backward, and he collapsed atop her. “You couldn’t?” she panted, trying to pull air into lungs squished by his weight and the sudden mad, wild pounding of her heart. He hadn’t proposed. Did that only mean he hadn’tyetproposed? But he’d saidcouldn’t. Had he changed his mind? Or had something merely interrupted his moment? “What happened?”
“I walked up to the door, lifted my hand to knock, and I couldn’t make myself do it,” he muttered, his face buried in her chest. “It—I—She’s everything I said I needed. But I couldn’t stop… The idea of me with her, and of Rebecca being so poised and perfect that it could only be a mask…” Beckett lifted his head, eyeing her. “You said you were being determined. You’ve decided, then. To marry Trent, I mean.” He dragged himself the rest of the way out of the hole, up along her body.
“I would marry a walrus if it meant protecting Edmund. But—we should never have gotten drunk in the garden, Beckett. And we should never, ever, have done that other thing. Becausebefore that I could be the one thing I needed to be. A mother. But you reminded me—”
“That you’re also a woman,” he finished, face-to-face with her now, warm and heavy atop her. “You did the same to me. Not the woman part, of course, but the me being more than a father. And yes, we should definitely have done the other thing. And we should definitely be here together, now.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “What happened to you tonight? For weeks you’ve been declaring Pauline the perfect mentor to Becks. Now you don’t want her and you’re out here lying on me?”
“I’ve been wanting to lie on you for some time now. That didn’t just happen tonight.”
Whatever this was, she needed to stop allowing him to distract her. “I’m no more well-liked or well-behaved than I was, so while I’m glad you’ve realized before proposing to her that Pauline isn’t who you want as a wife, my circumstances haven’t changed. I’ve all but promised a duke I will marry him. We’ve even made a preliminary monetary agreement about it.”
