Chapter Five #3
Beckett made his way outside behind the females and stepped into the barouche to await their return.
His head groom had written notes about some of the animals going up for auction today at Tattersall’s, and Beckett pulled them out to look over them again.
There was no guarantee that any of these half dozen ponies would still be available, but he had the heights and weights and ages, and knew more than enough about horseflesh to choose similar animals if that became necessary.
“They’re both coming!” Rebecca announced, bouncing up beside the low-slung carriage. “What’s that?”
He flapped the paper at her. “I told you, I have an errand. It’s a lovely day, and I thought you and your friend and your friend’s mother might wish to accompany me.”
“It is a lovely day.” She climbed into the barouche and plunked herself down beside him. “I tried singing this morning, and I don’t think the orange slice permanently damaged my throat.”
“Those of us who adore your singing are thrilled,” he said, attempting to drive the image of Rebecca silent and grabbing at her throat yesterday, her face going blue as she choked, from his mind.
Thank God she hadn’t been in that room alone.
Thank God for Lady Pauline Grenedy. He should have proposed to her the moment Rebecca was secured.
He would have, if the thought had crossed his mind—which for some reason it hadn’t until now.
“Good morning,” Edmund said, clambering into the barouche to sit opposite Rebecca. “How’s your throat?”
She patted her neck. “Much better.”
“Good.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling well today, Lady Becks,” Iris Silbern said, allowing Butler to help her into the carriage. “Most young ladies would be overset for days.”
“Oh, yes. Being overset is a great deal of trouble, though. Thankfully, I recover very quickly. Brubbie says I’m made of iron.”
Iris’s mouth quirked as she sat down facing Beckett. “A handy thing to be, especially during high winds.”
Rebecca laughed. “Everyone would have to hold on to me to keep from being blown away!”
“If you were a princess, you could demand your weight in gold from your suitors, and you’d be rich,” Edmund suggested, leaning his chin on his arms on the carriage’s low frame as they rolled into the street.
“But my husband could never carry me over the threshold. He’d have to drag me.” Beckett’s daughter snorted. “It would be fun.”
“Where are we going, Lord Hentrose?” Edmund asked, glancing at the marquis.
“An errand,” Beckett answered.
“Is the errand going by the Tower? I want to see where King Richard had the princes murdered.”
“I’m afraid the errand is in the opposite direction, Edmund.”
“Oh, could we guess, then?” Rebecca asked, imitating Edmund and leaning her arms and chin on the side of the barouche.
Beckett glanced at Iris, who smiled. The odds were that one or the other of them would figure it out before they arrived, but it was a thankfully short drive. “You may. I’ll only give you … eight guesses, though.”
“Is it to the House of Lords?”
“Becks, don’t blurt things out. We only have eight guesses,” Edmund said, shifting over to sit beside Rebecca.
Beckett likewise shifted his seat to the one beside Iris, giving the children room to plot. “Seven guesses, now. No, it is not the House of Lords.”
“He said it was an errand,” Rebecca whispered. “So I thought either the House of Lords, or … a bank? A solicitor?” She jabbed a finger at her father. “Those aren’t guesses. Not yet.”
“They look nothing alike, but they’re two peas in a pod, aren’t they?” Iris whispered beside him, shaking her head as she grinned at the children.
“It’s remarkable, really. Rebecca said she likes that Edmund doesn’t think she’s odd for having only one parent.”
“Edmund said the same thing about Becks. He … doesn’t generally make friends this quickly.” She squinted one eye. “I assume her name was intentional? Becks—Rebecca—and Beckett?”
“I didn’t even realize it for six months, until my mother pointed it out. Once Rebecca realized it, she had to be Becky, then Becks. There was no salvaging anything. She allows me to call her Cricket, but no one else.”
Iris nudged his shoulder, then sat up straighter, starting to wave to a woman of about her age with three young children and a nanny in tow. The woman looked at her, then turned her attention to the nearest shop window as they passed. Iris lowered her hand again, scowling.
“An old enemy?” he asked.
“An old friend.” She took a deep breath.
“I saw you at the party night before last, surrounded by young women anxious to become the next Lady Hentrose. When I show my face, though, my dear old friends either pretend they don’t remember me, or they treat me like I have the plague.
A widower would seem to be a treasure worth fighting over, but a widow is a pitiable, clinging creature that you can never be rid of once you invite her into your home. ”
Beckett glanced behind them as Iris’s former friend resumed her stroll down the street with her offspring. “I don’t…” He trailed off. “Oh, good Lord, I’ve invited you in.”
For a second she stared at him. Then she burst out laughing, a jolly, hearty sound that made him chuckle in return. She looked younger when she smiled; not that she was old by any means, but the worry lines beginning across her forehead eased, and her hazel eyes seemed greener.
“What’s so funny?” Edmund demanded, looking up from his whispering with Rebecca.
Iris wiped at her eyes. “The patriarchy,” she chortled.
“We have a question now,” Rebecca announced, clapping her hands together. “Is this errand … What was it?” she muttered, leaning over to Edmund.
“People who work for you,” the boy returned in the same tone.
“Oh, yes. Is this errand to see anyone who works for you? Or with you? And that’s one question.”
“Well considered,” he complimented the children, then put a finger to his chin as if considering his answer. “No, it is not.”
“See? Not the solicitor or the bank, then.” The two of them leaned their heads together again.
“Is it to a park?” Edmund asked.
“No. Five questions remaining.”
“It could still be the menagerie, or the museum,” Rebecca insisted, her voice hushed. “He only asked why he would have an errand there. He’s tricky.”
“Fine,” Edmund acquiesced. “But say animals alive or dead, so the question covers the museum, as well.”
Rebecca nodded. “Does this errand involve any animals, alive or dead?”
“Yes.”
She squealed. “Is it the menagerie?”
“No.”
“Becks, be more patient,” Edmund said, squeezing his hands together. “We only have three more questions now.”
“I got carried away,” Rebecca said, putting her hands over her mouth.
Beside Beckett, Iris leaned closer. “I haven’t seen Edmund this excited in … ever,” she whispered against his ear, her breath warm and tickling.
He shoved back against the abrupt urge to lean closer to her. “Next, we’ll have to find something to do that you enjoy,” he murmured.
Her cheeks darkened. “I enjoy seeing my son happy,” she blurted, straightening again.
Had he said something … Oh. Oh. He was courting someone. He didn’t play about, but if the rumor began that he did, that would be far more female attention than he wanted. “I’m courting Lady Pauline Grenedy. I didn’t mean—”
“No, I didn’t, either. I’m—It’s kind of you, but seeing Edmund happy makes me happy.”
“Of course. I had a visit to Kensington in mind. The gardens there are some of the prettiest in the world.” When her eyes narrowed a bit, he cleared his throat.
“And I’m not intimating that as a female, you should enjoy flowers particularly.
I enjoy walking the gardens, and I think Rebecca would at the least like feeding the ducks there. ”
“It sounds lovely,” she said, folding her hands into her lap.
Beckett nodded. It made sense for them to clarify where they stood at the beginning of their acquaintance. “As I’m frequently reminded, I have a title and properties. The best way to ensure Rebecca’s continued comfort is by passing both along to someone within her immediate family.”
“A son for you, which would mean a brother for her.”
“Yes.”
Iris looked at Rebecca for a long moment. “Good. I hope she never has to experience her life being upended at the whim of some male relation with whom she’s barely acquainted.”
“As do I.” He shifted. “I don’t think it’s too bold to say that you and I, Iris, know what is most important in the world.
And that is ensuring our children live safe, comfortable, happy lives.
I’ve done my bit for love, and frankly, it was a disaster.
This isn’t about me, or romance. If Lady Pauline proves to be a good mother and a good partner, I will be satisfied with that. ”
Somewhat to his surprise, she nodded. “That’s commendable, Beckett.
I found a small cottage in Shropshire where I mean to take in boarders.
That will give us a steady income, and me the ability to place Edmund in a position where he will have choices and a degree of freedom to pursue what he enjoys. ”
A difficult task for a female, alone, and one with no property and little means. He absolutely understood her reasoning, though. “If anyone could manage that, it would be you.”
“Oh! Oh! Is it about horses?”
“Becks! Stop wasting ques—”
“Yes,” he said, interrupting Edmund’s protest and thankful he didn’t have to imagine with what object Iris would hit him if he should offer assistance after three days of … reacquaintance.
Rebecca squealed again, bouncing on the barouche’s seat. “Am I getting a pony?”
“Yes.”
She hurled herself across the barouche and slammed into his chest, hugging him. “I knew it! Thank you! Thank you!”
Over her head, Beckett watched Edmund sit back, a slightly pinched smile on his face. A moment later, the boy nodded. “That’s wonderful, Becks,” he said. “Might I help you care for it?”
What a remarkable lad. “Of course you may,” he answered, because Rebecca was too busy making his cravat soggy with her happy tears, “though I’m not certain you’ll have time to do that.”
The boy met his gaze. “I won’t?” he asked, his expression falling just a bit more.
“I reckon you’ll be occupied with your own pony. It’ll be lodging with us, but I will expect you—both of you—to participate in your animals’ care.”
“Wait a moment.” Edmund sat up rail straight. “I—I—am getting a pony?” He gestured at himself. “We’ll each have a pony?”
Iris nodded. “Lord Hentrose and I discussed it. And in return I expect you to keep up with your studies and stop hiding from Mr. Fredericks. Is that clear?”
A tear ran down his cheek, and with a grimace he wiped it away. “Yes, Mama. Thank you, Lord Hentrose. I…” He stuck out his right hand. “Thank you.”
Beckett shook it. “You’re quite welcome, Edmund. And I’ll be happy to have someone else practicing alongside Rebecca, so thank you.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, my lord.” A grin nearly split the boy’s face. “Very welcome.”