Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“But then everybody screamed and we couldn’t get outside. And Bradley wouldn’t even let us in the morning room.” Edward scowled at the footman. “So that part of our plan didn’t work.”
“All of you were involved in this?” Beckett asked, indicating the lot of them.
“Yes, my lord. As the head of staff I take full responsibility for this fiasco, and I beg you not to send Bradley and Mrs. Alliday and George away.”
“Just how many of my staff were involved in this?”
“Just us in here,” Rebecca broke in. “We tried to keep our size reasonable.”
“Was that why you kept telling me I needed to accompany you when Beckett and Becks invited you to go about London?” Iris asked her son. “So you could encourage Lord Hentrose and myself to fall in love?”
Edmund nodded. “You laugh together all the time. And you both like lemon ices, and horseback riding, and—”
“Enough,” Beckett interrupted. “God’s sake.”
His gaze found hers, and for a long moment he just … looked. Iris had a good idea what he saw, and it wasn’t decorum or propriety. Of course she was the wrong choice. She’d been too angry for too long, and she’d done it to herself.
Heaven knew she wanted him, and he’d said some very nice things about her …
honor, she supposed it was, but she didn’t want to trap him into something simply because the children—and she—desired it.
Reaching across the table, she put her hand over Edmund’s.
“It’s quite sweet, what you wanted. But sometimes even when people like the same things, they don’t …
provide the necessary things for each other.
I’m a bit of a shambles, Pickle. You know that.
You’ve told me that. So please don’t blame Lord Hentrose for wanting someone better than—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Beckett broke in.
“What? Why not? I mean, you said you liked my honesty, but Lady Pauline was simply a … very poor choice. There are other women who, I’m certain, truly are polite and demure and know how to navigate Society.”
“Why would I want any wife who would teach Rebecca to plot vengeance on anyone who looked askance at her, to choose a man who will benefit her socially or monetarily rather than one who would love her and all her portrait-painting wonderfulness, and who would discourage her from standing up for herself?”
“I am wonderful,” Rebecca murmured.
Beckett took Iris’s hand, twining his fingers with hers. “I have never felt as much … joy every day as I have spending time with you and Edmund and Rebecca. Every time we kiss I want more. More time with you. More of you, more everyth—”
Edmund shot to his feet. “You kissed?” he demanded.
Beckett stood up, as well, moving to Iris’s other side past the end of the table. “Give me a moment, Edmund. I’m proposing to your mother.”
Oh my. Oh my.
“As I was saying when I fell into Edmund’s pit in the garden, I attempted to ignore my attraction to you,” he went on, sinking onto one knee. “I’d spoken with Pauline before you and I met, and we’d, well, I thought I’d found the person I needed. She is, was, a consummate performer. The—”
“Papa, stop talking about Pauline.”
He nodded. “Right. You and I became friends. True friends. And while I adore that, it still isn’t enough.
I want all of you. Every moment of you. Your temper, your willingness to stand up to those who attempt to bully or belittle you—or anyone else—your strength, your honor, your heart, your …
Are you going to stop me, or should I go on? ”
A tear ran down her cheek. “Oh, do go on, Beckett.” She put her hand out, and he took her fingers in his again.
“I would like to mention that we would have been horrible together eleven years ago, but that now—whenever I think I’m alone, you seem to appear, and I realize that I’m not.
Even if we could only be friends, I would have you. ”
“You do have me,” he murmured. “I adore you. I love you. I want Rebecca and me to be a family with you and Edmund. And perhaps even make another one or two of them.”
That made her heart stumble a little. “Because you need an heir.”
“Marry me, and I’ll have one. But because we haven’t seen nearly enough chaos and laughter beneath this roof, I’d like to be responsible for bringing more Biscuits into the world. With you. If that’s what you want.”
He started to lean toward her, but she put out her free hand, stopping him. “What do you mean, you’ll ‘have’ an heir if we marry?”
“Because I’ll adopt Edmund, if you and he will permit me to do so.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Rebecca shouted. “Ask her the question! I can’t stand it any longer!”
Beckett grinned. “Will you marry me, Iris Regina Flexing Silbern Biscuits?”
And there it was. Everything. Safety, a roof, a future for Edmund, an income that wouldn’t leave her scrambling every month, and Beckett Raines. A sob ripped from her throat, and she covered her face with her free hand.
“Oh no!” Rebecca shrieked. “You did it wrong!”
Beckett gently pulled her hand away to uncover her eyes. “Did I do it wrong?” he asked, very quietly.
It would hurt him if she turned him down, she realized.
Beckett really, truly wanted her in his life.
He didn’t need fixing, though she more than likely did, he didn’t need her to tell him he was a good man and always doing his best, even if his best meant they had no money for food.
He knew what he was about, and he wanted her. Her.
“You did not do it wrong,” she managed, hiccupping. “I just … I love you, Beckett. I have for far longer than I should have. I … With you, I don’t think I would mind having another child or two, to go with the two we already have.”
He smiled. “Say the bit about loving me again, if you don’t mind.”
“I love you, Beckett Arthur Raines Biscuits. And yes, I will marry you.”
Applause and screaming and a great deal of jumping up and down exploded around them.
Beckett stood, lifted her in the air, then lowered her down just far enough to kiss her.
She kissed him back, trying to make it look civilized for the sake of the children.
She wrapped her arms around his neck as he set her feet back on the ground, and he pulled her against him in a tight hug.
“I can’t believe the children did all that and we had no idea,” she whispered.
“I can’t believe I nearly married that woman.”
“Or me, Trent. Did you see him in the morning room? I’m going to have nightmares.”
“Hmm. I’ll wake you up if you do,” he said, quietly enough that Edmund and Becks couldn’t hear. “I’ll likely wake you up even if you don’t have nightmares.”
An abrupt laugh spilled from her chest. “Good heavens. What did we almost do?”
With a laugh he lowered his face to hers. “What we did do is avoid disaster. The two of us. This,” and he gestured at the laughing and smiling faces of the staff around them, “is what I want. And you.”
“And what I want is you, you wonderful, silly man.”
Rebecca climbed up on the bench and leaped into the air, a sticky, pink, whooping butterfly. “Long live the Biscuits!”