Chapter Thirteen
Beckett looked up from his breakfast. At the far end of the table, a good ten feet away from where she generally sat at his left elbow, Rebecca buttered her bread with admirable concentration.
“Are we still not speaking?” he asked, glancing at the newspaper beside him but leaving it be.
Rebecca’s annoyance was distraction enough, and that didn’t take into account the way he kept catching himself smiling this morning.
He’d had a damned fine evening, and afterward had slept better than he had in weeks.
Months, perhaps. Thank God for fiery, clever, and exceedingly attractive next-door neighbors.
“Butler,” Rebecca said, adding far too many lumps of sugar to her tea, “please inform Lord Hentrose that he is correct. We are not speaking.”
The butler looked from her to him, his expression a combination of amusement and reluctance, probably at being dragged into the fight. Sighing, Beckett motioned for him to proceed. “Lord Hentrose,” Butler said, clearing his throat, “I’m to say that you are correct.”
“Thank you, Butler. And I do understand, Cricket, that you don’t like the idea of Lady Pauline taking ownership of a horse being used by someone else. I do hope you noted, though, that Mrs. Silbern didn’t protest in the least.”
“Butler, please tell Lord Hentrose that Mrs. Silbern didn’t have any choice, and that she was very brave to say Delilah was a present for Lady Pauline just so Papa didn’t look buffle-headed.”
While the servant repeated her words, verbatim, Beckett frowned.
He hadn’t been confused. He’d been ambushed.
By both females, yet. Before he could inform Pauline that the mare belonged to Iris, Iris had stepped in and given the horse away.
“It was a misunderstanding, Rebecca. Mrs. Silbern spoke when she did to keep Pauline from embarrassment, which was a kind thing for her to do, but the fact remains that I didn’t give away Delilah. ”
“You let her do it, just because of politeness.”
“Politeness is important.”
“Friends are more important. Eddie says he heard his lady aunt say that his mama punched a man who was mean to her when no men stepped in to stop him. I like that. You keep talking about how important it is to be polite and well-mannered, but all that got Mrs. Silbern is a missing horse. More women need to begin putting their feet down in the face of ill treatment and bad manners.”
He opened and then shut his mouth again.
Well, she’d just demonstrated why he needed a proper, composed woman in the house as Rebecca’s mentor.
“If you engage in fisticuffs regarding anything other than your own safety, Cricket, neither of us is going to be pleased with the consequences. And there will be consequences. Is that clear?”
“It’s not fisticuffs when I say you still need to give Mrs. Silbern a horse. I’m just saying what needs to be said.”
Stifling a sigh, Beckett shook his head.
Perhaps the not-speaking to each other wasn’t so bad, since he seemed to be losing this argument.
“If I purchased another horse this week and gave it to Mrs. Silbern after presenting one to Lady Pauline, several things would happen. Do you know what they would be?”
“I would think you’re a wonderful man because you replaced the mare that Mrs. Silbern misses terribly and probably cries about in her sleep.”
“Firstly it would make me frivolous for spending that much money. Secondly it would embarrass Lady Pauline, because she would realize she erred in claiming Delilah for herself, which is what Mrs. Silbern attempted to forestall in the first place. Thirdly my gifting two women with horses would be construed … in a gossipy sort of way that none of us would appreciate.”
Rebecca stood, shoving her chair backward. “So the only one who doesn’t have to feel bad about anything is the one who stole the horse. That is not a good lesson, Papa.”
She made a good point. “Perhaps not, Cricket, but sometimes there’s no perfect solution.”
“I don’t like it.” She took a breath, balling her fists and clearly still furious. “You need to do something nice for Mrs. Silbern, to show that you appreciate the way she didn’t embarrass you.”
They’d done something very pleasurable together that proved she didn’t blame him for anything, but he couldn’t very well tell his daughter about that. “Our morning is spoken for, but I don’t see why we couldn’t ask Mrs. Silbern and Edmund over for dinner this evening. Would that suffice?”
“May we have orange meringue pie?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.”
“Did I mention that tomorrow evening we’re going to the theater?” he continued, hoping that would distract her from the horse incident. “Sheridan’s The Rivals. You’ve been asking to see it.”
“They can sit in our box with us?”
“Edmund and Mrs. Silbern? I’m afraid not. We’ve already invited Lady Pauline to join us.”
She sighed, her eyebrows furrowing. “A horse and a play.”
Hmm. His daughter generally didn’t mind sharing him with friends.
Nor had she said much about Lady Pauline at all, now that he considered it, when she had things to say about everything else.
She talked about Iris constantly. “You should be happy Pauline likes going riding. I’m quite happy we have so much in common, the three of us. ”
“Because you need a wife to be happy. I know.”
His happiness didn’t actually figure into it, unless it was him being happy he’d found a way to enable Rebecca to be well-prepared for her future as a lady and eventually a wife.
It was her happiness that mattered. “Being a family would make me happy, yes. Cricket, you like Lady Pauline, don’t you? ”
Shrugging, she gathered up her toast and cup of tea and left the table.
“I don’t know her very well yet. I’ll finish my breakfast in the schoolroom, because I haven’t forgotten that you think some veal and a pie makes up for Mrs. Silbern losing Delilah.
When I go to Grove House for my rhyming lesson, may I tell Eddie and his mama about dinner tonight? ”
“You may.” Beckett inclined his head. “I may join you for your lesson. I’m curious to see this tutor of Master Edmund’s.”
“Well, Eddie says he’s nice, but quite mad, so be ready to flee if you need to.”
He did his damnedest to keep the grin off his face. “Thank you for the warning. I will do my utmost. Is Mrs. Brubbins accompanying you?”
“Yes. She says she doesn’t believe that anyone as absurd as Eddie says Mr. Fredericks is can possibly be real.”
With Mrs. Brubbins going, his presence wasn’t necessary, and that … disappointed him. Because he wanted to see Iris. Beckett took a breath. Going to visit her was the one thing he didn’t need to be doing today.
Logically one pleasurable evening didn’t change anything. Emotionally, though, physically, he and Iris … He liked her. A great deal. They were friends. Friends who’d needed a connection, even momentarily. Did he want more from her?
Iris insisted that daydreaming, wishing, was a waste of time.
In the first few years after Lydia’s death he would have agreed with that, because wishing he had someone else on whom to rely when a screaming three-year-old wouldn’t be soothed had only made his task more difficult.
For quite a while he’d attempted to stop wishing, himself.
In the past few weeks, however, since his mother had made her one wise point about Rebecca needing someone suitable to introduce her into Society, he’d caught himself drifting through nebulous handfuls of moments where a woman sat beside him and a trio of young ones laughed and played around them.
In the past few days he’d caught glimpses of her, and she hadn’t been Lady Pauline Grenedy.
But daydreaming didn’t make Iris more socially agile, or change her temperament, or lessen her justified anger at the mistreatment the world had handed her.
It didn’t make her any less stubborn, certainly.
Pauline made sense. But Iris complicated things.
Made him feel things. Things that partners in a mutually beneficial business agreement weren’t supposed to feel.
Things he didn’t feel for or with Pauline.
What he should do, then, was invite Pauline to go riding with him.
Whether he’d meant to do so or not, he’d purchased her a horse, and no doubt she would wish to try Delilah’s paces.
And they could chat, he could reassure himself once again that she would be a good addition to the household and to Rebecca’s life. And to his, of course.
It hadn’t escaped him that thus far she’d been the one planning dinners and luncheons and informing him which soirees she would be attending.
He’d followed along, which made sense because she’d made it easy to do so.
But he hadn’t led. He hadn’t invited her to go driving or riding or to visit any of the places he and Rebecca—and Iris and Edmund—had been exploring.
Taking a woman places, seeking her out to go riding or have a picnic luncheon or stroll through Hyde Park, was what made a courtship.
But he wasn’t courting Iris. Not intentionally.
Neither, though, was he attempting to woo Pauline.
He was determining whether she was compatible with a family that already existed, made up of Rebecca and him.
Except that in the past few weeks it had been them plus Edmund and Iris.
This was all very confusing, he was feeling things he didn’t particularly wish to feel ever again, and he wasn’t feeling them for the woman he’d decided would best suit as Rebecca’s stepmother.
“What a damned mess you’ve made,” he muttered under his breath.