Chapter Seventeen
“In her hair?” Iris whispered, her gaze on Edmund and Rebecca where they stood in front of the very small cage of very large lions.
“In my opinion, it thought the bird in her hair made her a tree,” Beckett murmured, just loudly enough for her to hear.
“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry Edmund did that. I don’t know what he was thinking.”
“He was bringing a surprise to show his friend. His plan was a sound one, actually, except for bringing the box into the house in the first place. And he did rid your aunt and uncle’s attic of squirrels.”
The tone of his voice caught her attention, and she turned her head to look at his profile. “You’re not angry at all, are you?”
The marquis shrugged. “It was hilarious. I nearly split a seam trying not to laugh.”
“Did you learn anything new about your almost-fiancé, then? Does she hate squirrels? Children?”
A grin curved his mouth. “You know, she was in the midst of twisting me into proposing to her. I’d just about given in to the inevitable when the mayhem began.
As for Pauline, it embarrassed her, and her hair looked even worse than yours did that day you came over to demand the return of Edmund, but there was no cursing—either at the squirrels or the children. ”
Her thoughts twisted up so quickly it made Iris dizzy.
He’d nearly given in. Nearly proposed. A tantrum, a crying jag, a single crack in Lady Pauline Grenedy’s flawless character would have made her feel better for not wanting him to do what everyone in Mayfair knew was in the offing.
Not that it would have made a difference—not for her.
It wouldn’t have made Iris Silbern a better choice for him.
Nothing could do that. “I’m glad to hear that she’s living up to her reputation for absolute perfection, then,” she said aloud.
“You would have laughed.”
Iris blinked. “With a squirrel tearing at my hair?”
“Maybe. Afterward, definitely.”
Hmm. Was that a criticism of the flawless Lady Pauline? “I’m a parent. She doesn’t have the experience to understand that sometimes squirrels get into the breakfast room.”
“True.” He took a step forward. “You’re quite close enough, Rebecca. Those aren’t house cats.”
“I know,” his daughter replied, glancing back at them. “They’re so big! But they look very bored.”
“This is hardly the wilds of Africa with zebras galloping about,” Beckett said, continuing forward to join the children. “Already-dead chickens aren’t much of a challenge.”
“I want to see the baboons,” Rebecca said, taking Edmund’s hand and pulling him around the corner.
“Fine, but we have to come back to see the lions when they get fed,” Edmund said, his voice echoing in the stonework around them. “I want to see that.”
Iris started after them, but stopped when Beckett’s fingers curled around her wrist. “You know they’re going to attempt to smuggle a monkey or something out of here,” she said, doing her best to ignore just how aware she was of him touching her.
“You haven’t said how your drive with Trent went. Was it better or worse than squirrels in the house?”
Oh, she didn’t want to talk about that. Seeing the sights was a great deal more fun than dwelling on her future. “Different, but not better. I believe we have a clearer idea of what we expect of each other in the event he does offer for me, which I think he will.”
“You’ll accept, then?”
“I don’t know why I wouldn’t,” she said, keeping her voice light and breezy.
“He’s agreed to a yearly stipend for me and for Edmund.
I’ll be a duchess, much more difficult to kick out of Society, and I won’t have to go from relative to relative offering to push them about while they recover from gout. ”
He took a breath. “I admire you, Iris. A great deal. But there are moments when I think your … damned need to make your own way is the largest obstacle in your life.” He turned away, then abruptly faced her again. “I’m terribly fond of you, Iris Regina Flexing Silbern.”
She swallowed, her heart thrumming like a hummingbird. “Likewise, Beckett Arthur Raines. You make me wish I was … better than I am.” Better, more tolerant, less sharp-edged.
“Don’t say th—”
“Papa! Can you ride a zebra?” Rebecca bounced back to them and grabbed her father’s arm.
“No, I can’t,” he answered, sending Iris a last glance and then allowing himself to be towed forward.
“I mean, can someone—I—ride a zebra? Is it a rideable animal?”
“Well, let’s have a look and figure that out, shall we? And no, you’re not getting a zebra.”
“I’m only asking.”
Behind them and out of Beckett’s hearing, Iris gripped an iron post. Getting strawberry cream all over Beckett Raines’s coat eleven years ago was both the best and the worst thing she’d ever done.
The best, because they’d both been frivolous and very young, and the worst, because life had shaped them into two very different people who now …
fit. A little. And while in the dreamiest of daydreams she could imagine a life where he and she were together, happy parents to two or more happy children, her eyes couldn’t stay shut for that long. She’d run into something. Life, mainly.
“Mama?”
Shaking herself, she lifted her head. “I’m sorry, Pickle,” she said, putting on a grin and reaching out to tousle Edmund’s hair. “I was imagining us all riding zebras about London.”
Edmund snorted. “I told Becks they’re too small. She and I could ride them, but Lord Hentrose’s feet would practically touch the ground. And the keeper says every time he turns his back one of them tries to bite him in the arse.”
“That could be a problem,” she agreed, motioning him forward and falling in beside him.
“How far is Trent Park from Hentrose Park?” he asked. “I’d like to be able to visit Becks after the Season and make certain she’s happy.”
“I have no idea. I’ll have to ask.”
“Yes, please. I hope it’s not too far away. Becks gets worried about things sometimes. She needs somebody to tell her that even if bad things happen, she still has friends.”
“That’s very kind of you.” And for some reason, it made her tear up.
Rebecca wasn’t the only one who worried about things.
As a six-year-old, Edmund had had his world flipped on its head.
Now he seemed to assume they were just waiting for the next bad thing to happen, and that he had to be ready for it.
“It would be fun to visit Hentrose Park anyway,” he went on, skipping forward a step or two before he settled into a walk again. “Becks said they have a pond. With fish. And it’s big enough for punting.”
“Ah. So you’re a punter, now?”
“There, I will be. Otherwise, I think I’ve made up my mind to be a solicitor. Maybe I can’t help us, but I can make sure other people’s relations don’t take their houses from them without even asking.”
Goodness. “That’s a noble goal,” she said, when she really wanted to scoop him up in her arms and hug him senseless. Somehow, even with her … fury at it all, he’d managed to take one of the worst moments of his life and use it for something positive. “Your future sounds quite exciting.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Becks already knows she’s going to be a portraitist, but I’d rather be able to tell snooty, spoiled people, ‘No, you’re not going to do that.’”
“You make me quite proud, you know.”
He slowed, looking up at her. “Is it odd that a chit is my closest friend? Aunt Lady Margaret says it’s odd, and I should be out pretending to swordfight and not paint birds.
” Edmund sighed. “We do swordfight, but we like to read about things, too. And paint. And Aunt Lady Margaret complained about my sewer hole, so I had to move it even though I liked the first spot better. Digging is for boys, isn’t it? ”
“My darling dear, I believe a friend is someone who matches you on the inside. Their outside doesn’t matter.
Rebecca’s insides and your insides are a good fit.
And for heaven’s sake, don’t take advice from Aunt Margaret.
Have you seen how many people she’s attempted to run down with that chair of hers? ”
Laughing, he gripped her hand, then released it again. “Thank you. We are a good fit. I’m glad that you and Lord Hentrose fit, too.”
Oh dear. What had he noticed? “What do you mean?”
“You laugh at the same things, and I don’t know what you chat about, but you do it a lot. Is he your friend?”
Out of the mouths of babes. “Yes. He is.” Friends who shared delicious kisses and, on occasion, had very excellent sex in the garden.
“I’m glad. You should have a friend, too, and the Raineses are good company.”
Her papa and Eddie’s mama spent a great deal of time these days looking at each other, mostly when the other one couldn’t see it. To Rebecca that said they were mad at each other about something but didn’t want to talk about it. And that wouldn’t do.
In addition, Papa had written a letter to Lady Pauline to apologize for the squirrels, and he’d made Rebecca add a note to the end saying how sorry she was, too. She didn’t mind writing the note, but she did mind the way he’d made it sound like she would welcome more visits with Lady Pauline.
Her and Eddie’s plan wasn’t working. And they were running out of time. Old Moldy had taken Mrs. Silbern driving, and when she came back, Eddie said she was quieter, like she’d decided to do something that didn’t make her happy. And Papa said he’d half proposed to Masquerade now.
With Brubbie behind her, Rebecca trotted down the stairs and into the morning room. “We should go fly kites,” she announced with a pirouette, because her dress flared out when she did that and it was a very pretty pink and yellow.
Her papa looked up from his newspaper, because he’d stopped reading them at the breakfast table. “Kites?” he echoed.
“Yes. It’s quite breezy today, so we should all go fly kites. At St. James’s Park. Hyde Park is too crowded, and I don’t want to scare the horses.”