Chapter 31
BECKETT
They left The Hare’s Rest before dawn and arrived at Jack’s house in Sevennis well after dark, riding their exhausted horses around to the mews.
By the time they’d dismounted and were unbuckling their luggage, Nolan was waiting on the back step, lit by a rectangle of golden light from the open door.
Jack caught sight of him and grimaced.
Nolan grimaced back.
“Looks impatient to see you,” Beckett remarked.
Jack hummed. “I left some issues open that I should have dealt with before I went to see Arden,” he said, making quick work of the saddlebag he’d packed at Greylag.
He slung the saddlebag clear and over his shoulder, to the squawking dismay of the scrawny stable lad who’d come running to take the horses.
The lad immediately pounced on Jack to wrestle it off him.
“Go on in and let Nolan get his nagging over with, then.” Beckett took Jack’s saddlebag off the lad, forestalling any complaints by shoving his mount’s reins into the boy’s hand instead. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Very well. Thank you.”
Beckett dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“And Beckett?”
“Yes?”
“Put your things in my room.” Before Beckett could stiffly decline, he added a soft, “Please.”
That right there, Beckett supposed, was it. The moment he stepped fully out of his role as Jack’s footman and into his future as Jack’s partner.
In a dark stable yard, with the lights from the house and the stable block casting a golden glow over Jack’s face and dancing in his black eyes, and a stable lad and Nolan to witness it.
It wasn’t going to be easy. He knew that. But his world had changed, and Beckett was ready for it.
“Yes,” he said.
Worth it. Worth it, for the look that flashed over Jack’s face before the daft man did his best to try and hide it. Possession. Delight. Joy.
Relief.
Beckett snorted at that last one.
Beckett was Jack’s, completely, and Jack knew it.
And Jack? Beckett leaned in and kissed him, hard and fast and familiar, square on the mouth. Jack was Beckett’s. “Get on, then,” he said.
Jack smiled and strode off. As soon as he was swallowed up by the house, Nolan trotting at his side, one of the footmen, Miller, came out and helped Beckett take the luggage upstairs.
Beckett could have managed it on his own. He let Miller do it anyway, and when Miller paused at the back stairs that led to the servants’ quarters for Beckett to drop off his own luggage, Beckett nudged him on to the ducal apartments.
“Nice,” Miller said, and had the sense to leave it at that.
Jack was closeted with Nolan in his study until after midnight, doing whatever it was the Council had him doing. Beckett fell asleep waiting for him in the enormous bed, and was jolted awake when Jack finally dragged himself through the door and fell face-first onto the mattress.
Beckett hauled him up to get his head on the pillows, and if it was him he’d have called it done, only Jack hated to sleep in his clothes.
At some point after Beckett had dropped off the luggage and jogged back down to the servants’ quarters to catch up on gossip and make sure someone was on the job of sending Jack some food, Jack had found a spare moment to wash up and change into plain breeches and a shirt, but dressed was still dressed.
Beckett rolled on top of Jack and ignored the bleary black eyes watching him through lids puffed with exhaustion as Beckett set about stripping him.
He untucked the soft linen shirt and pushed it up to Jack’s armpits, murmuring, “Lift for me.” Jack did, and Beckett pulled the shirt over his head, setting it beside him on the covers.
He unbuttoned the fall of Jack’s breeches and scooted down his thighs, drawing breeches and underclothes with him and all the way off, along with his shoes and stockings.
He climbed off the end of the bed and folded the clothes before taking them over to set the small pile on top of an enormous chest of drawers for the valet to deal with tomorrow.
Beckett stood beside Jack, gazing down at him. He’d fallen asleep as soon as he was naked, and Beckett was free to smile as soppily down at the arrogant bastard as he liked.
He reached out and brushed a lock off hair off Jack’s forehead.
Didn’t look all that arrogant now. Or that much of a bastard.
He huffed to himself, climbed on the bed, and spent about a minute shoving Jack around as Jack grumbled in wordless complaint before he had Jack off the covers and the covers over the pair of them.
Chest to chest, he slid a leg between Jack’s, rested a hand on Jack’s round arse, and followed him into sleep.
The messenger was shown directly into the breakfast parlour, where Beckett was uncomfortably sitting at the table for the first time, beside Nolan and opposite Jack.
The butler didn’t even come and get Nolan to deal with the messenger as he normally would. He brought the man straight in.
It was one of the stable lads from Greylag.
Beckett stood sharply, banging his knee against the table leg and rattling the crockery.
Across from him, Jack went frighteningly still. “Is my duch well?”
“Oh,” the messenger said. “Yes, Your Grace. Sorry. His Grace is fine.” The messenger bowed. “My apologies. Didn’t mean to make you worry overmuch.”
“Do I have reason to worry at all?” Jack asked mildly.
There was a brief hesitation before the man shook his head.
Well, that was convincing.
“Mr Stanton sent me here to keep you informed, Your Grace, that’s all, since you left instructions that you wanted to know if anything out of the ordinary happened.
His Grace the duch is safe. We saw him off to Avendene a little later than planned, true, but only by a couple of hours in the end, and that was down to him haring off down the beach after breakfast, as he does, and losing track of time. Cook made him stay for lunch.”
“Then of what am I to be informed?” Jack asked. The messenger was probably the only one in the room who couldn’t tell quite how much Jack was controlling himself.
“His Grace the duch’s brother paid a visit, Your Grace.”
“Oh, he did?” Jack said. “Lassit?”
The messenger blinked.
“Dalbryn?” Jack said. “The earl?”
“Yes, Your Grace. That’s him.”
“And the duch is safely on the way to Avendene? Does he have guards?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Safely away, and Mr Stanton sent four outriders with him, as well as two footmen out of livery to follow up behind, sneaky-like.”
More of that tension eased.
Lord Dalbryn had come to Greylag, the messenger went on, sat with Arden in the library for half an hour, and left. Half an hour after that, Arden himself had left, showing no sign of distress whatsoever.
Jack thanked the messenger and dismissed him to the kitchen for a hearty breakfast.
“What did that arsehole mean by going to Greylag?” Nolan demanded, beating Beckett to it.
Jack sipped his coffee and leaned back in the chair, making it creak. “I imagine he meant to take Arden back home with him.”
“He can’t do that!” Nolan said. “He’s your duch!”
At the same time, Beckett jabbed a finger on the tablecloth and said, “He’s our omega!” It earned him a startled frown from Nolan and a sympathetic smile from Jack.
“He is,” Jack said. “As Lassit well knows. Hmm.” He shot a sly glance at Beckett. “That he is my duch, at least. I can’t imagine what it would do to him if he knew he was your omega.”
“I can,” Nolan muttered, then stared ferociously at his plate and the abandoned piece of toast he’d been nibbling at when the messenger was shown in. “Be terrible if his lordship were to find out. Somehow. Through a mysterious, unnamed source, for instance.”
“Did you know we were leaving Arden in danger?” Beckett said roughly, and winced at the accusation in his voice.
“He’s not in any danger,” Jack said. “He’s protected. I’d never leave his side if I didn’t have full confidence that he was safe.”
“Still…”
“I always knew that Lassit would attempt to make contact with him. It’s why I was less than thrilled at the idea of Arden leaving Avendene in the first place.”
Beckett winced again. That was meant for him, and he deserved it. Fair enough.
“Making contact is one thing. Removing Arden from my protection is another altogether.”
“Are you sure he won’t?” Nolan, again, beat Beckett to the question. Beckett scowled at him. Nolan returned his scowl, and salted a little extra attitude on top.
Jack looked vaguely amused at their duelling glares.
“Now that he’s visited Arden in person? It really depends on how their conversation went.
But, no. I’m not sure.” Jack sighed. “Lassit has proven to be more unpredictable than I anticipated when it comes to Arden. It’s unlikely that he will attempt to physically remove Arden from my protection.
He’ll know that I have taken measures to prevent it.
He’ll also know that if he was foolish enough to try regardless, I’d hunt him down.
I wouldn’t, however, put it past him to try bullying Arden into returning to Dalbryn voluntarily.
To make him think that he’s unwanted. In other words, Arden is safe from being taken from us, but not safe from doubt. ”
Beckett grunted. “I’ll make sure he’s good and clear on things, don’t you worry about that.”
Nolan scoffed, Beckett glared at him again, and Jack said quietly, “I know that you will, my love.”
That should have been an end to it, only Jack had been right about the earl being unpredictable, because not a few hours later, the man himself showed up.