Chapter Twenty-One #2
“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. ”
“It’s not done yet.”
“You haven’t rid yourself of Pauline, either. You’ve been in the gossip pages. And she’s a duke’s granddaughter.”
“Clearly I’m not saying this well. I had little time to rehearse anything, because I wanted to find you before you agreed to marry Trent. And then I fell in a hole.”
“Explain it, then, or I will punch you.”
“Pauline, and her manners, are what I thought I needed,” he said in a soft voice, setting his elbow into the dirt and his cheek in his hand, his gaze holding hers.
“It occurred to me as I was walking down to the library that I felt resigned. A man voluntarily walking to the gallows. A mutually beneficial partnership shouldn’t feel like that.
And then I realized that no one is perfect.
The difference—one difference—between you and Pauline is that she pretends otherwise.
You … admit your imperfections. And I am quite mad for every one of them, Iris Regina Flexing Silbern. ”
“You can’t be,” she whispered, a tear running down her cheek into her ear. “You can’t possibly think I’m a better choice than—”
He kissed her before she could finish her sentence.
That was good, because she’d had no idea what she would do if he hadn’t kissed her.
Sweeping her arms around his neck and shoulders, she kissed him back, hungry, frustrated, and desperate.
He liked her not despite her flaws, but because of them?
That sounded magnificent, but words and some very fine kisses wouldn’t keep the gossips or the Duke of Trent or Lady Pauline at bay.
Iris’s heart shivered. “Wait.” She shoved at his shoulders until he stopped kissing her, even though his gaze remained on her mouth and horribly distracted her from the thoughts she was attempting to form.
“Even if you’ve decided against Pauline, how can you think you want Becks to … grow up to be like me?”
He sighed, shifting off her to lie beside her on the ground, facing her with his elbow bent to prop up his head. “Honestly, it wasn’t just tonight. She speaks to my daughter the same way my mother does—as if Rebecca is a dog. A pet. And she stole your mare.”
“I thought it was a misunderstanding.”
“I’ve never accidentally taken someone else’s property. Have you?”
“No.”
“Another point in your favor, then.” He gave a brief smile, brushing his fingers against her cheek.
“I have no wish for my very honest daughter, who wears her heart on her sleeve and sees every stranger as a potential friend, to grow up into what would be, for lack of prettier words, a heartless liar.”
She twisted onto her side as well, resting her head on her crooked elbow and facing him. “Even if that would enable her to better navigate Society?”
Beckett twirled a strand of her hair around his fingers, the sensation making goose bumps rise on her arms. “Even if,” he murmured. “Politeness isn’t the same as kindness. You know that better than anyone.”
“I will agree with that.”
Beckett sighed. “When Rebecca and I had luncheon with my mother and Pauline yesterday, Rebecca forgot her shoes beneath the table and went back inside Bursk House for them. A few moments longer than it would take a girl to recover her shoes, she came running outside again like her hair was on fire. Whatever it was she overheard, and I know it was something, it made her decide to hold this house party with all the players in our two theatricals attending. She insisted that the party be held immediately.”
“What do you think she heard, then?”
“I think she heard my mother and Pauline plotting about how to force me to propose. And I think she demanded this party to forestall one held at Bursk House, where my mother could serve as puppeteer and pull everyone’s strings.”
“Your mother recommended Lady Pauline to you in the first place. I would imagine she doesn’t wish to be wrong.”
“She’s been wrong fifteen previous times without resorting to blackmail.
I’m being maneuvered into a trap. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see Pauline inside my library, naked, with my mother waiting to jump out and make certain the entire ton would hear about the scandal if I didn’t make a marriage offer to protect the reputation of the Duke of Milton’s granddaughter.
Whatever I intended to ask her tonight, it should have been a choice. Not a consequence.”
That abruptly made her question why the Duke of Trent had wanted to meet her out in the garden.
Did he have a plan for someone to discover them in a compromising situation?
It would certainly relieve her of any choice in the matter at all.
“You know, I never thought Trent ever had anyone else in mind for marriage. It was me, because I need what he offers.”
“He holds money over his family to control them. It makes sense he would wish to do the same to a bride more than forty years his junior.” Beckett twisted his head, glancing toward the house. “That makes me want to punch him, if I didn’t think he would disintegrate into dust at the slightest tap.”
Iris snorted. “I think he’s only held together by spite and acrimony.” This all felt very hopeful, and for the first time she loosened her tight grip on reality just a little. “It seems as if our prospective spouses being underhanded in wooing us should alter the overall plot, doesn’t it?”
His eyes shut for just a moment. “Yes, it does,” he said, opening them again.
“But it’s not just that I’ve discovered something I dislike about Pauline.
I admire … you, Iris. The way you treat others.
Honestly, decisively, and fairly. My point being …
when I’m in your company, I don’t feel like I’m settling.
When I think about Rebecca as an adult, I would prefer that she state her annoyance with someone rather than scheme behind their back to see them ruined.
When I think about myself, I don’t want to be sharing a household or a bed or a life with Pauline Grenedy. I want that with you.”
Loud drumming drowned out every other sound, and it took a moment for Iris to realize that it was the pounding of her own heart, loud and fast in her ears. “But—”
“Hear me out,” he interrupted. “We’re friends. We’re lovers. I adore Edmund, just as I know that you adore Rebecca.”
“You want more children.”
“You were willing to put up with Trent attempting the same thing. Am I so much worse?”
“Good God, no. You’re much better. Much, much better. But…” She trailed off, studying the serious, thoughtful expression on his lean face. “We’ve been through a great deal, haven’t we?”
“Yes, we have. Does that mean we’re not supposed to be able to be happy again? If marrying me would make you happy, that is. I’m presuming, I suppose, that you feel the same way about me as I do about you.”
Oh, she did. So much. “You’re the one thing I can’t stop daydreaming about,” she whispered.
“But how could we? There’s a duke about to appear in your garden, and he’s convinced that I will marry him.
I’ve agreed in principle to do so. You have a duke’s granddaughter still waiting for you in the library, and all of Mayfair knows a proposal is imminent.
You could no doubt weather a scandal, given that you’re … you, but I—”
“I’m getting very tired of the burden that comes with being honorable,” he said, scowling. “I don’t—”
A scream ripped through the night. Her heart jumping again, Iris sat up. “That sounded like Aunt Margaret,” she gasped.
Beckett was already on his feet. Pulling her up after him and lifting her over the hole that apparently did almost reach to London’s sewers, he ran with her back into his garden and straight for the back door of Raines House.
What now? If Edmund had somehow summoned his rat army, Iris meant to join them, because everything had gone mad now.
Beckett grabbed the door handle, then nearly smashed his face on the door when it didn’t give. “It’s locked,” he snapped.
“What about the front door?”
“I nearly hope the kitchen’s caught fire.”
If a fire was what it took to have Beckett holding her hand as they ran to the front of the house and into the foyer, then so be it.