“Good gods,” Jack said. “Well. I suppose that answers the question as to whether or not you bothered to read the letter I sent ahead of Arden. You, my love. I’m talking about you.” He gave a short, dry laugh. “How can you not know?”
“What?” Beckett said shakily.
Jack tugged him in, kissed him on the forehead, then nudged his chin up and kissed him firmly on the lips.
Beckett allowed it. He liked it. Right now, feeling young, and cruel, and knowing that he may very well have broken something as important as it was fragile, he more than liked it; he welcomed it.
“You,” Jack said, gazing at him with that look he got on his face sometimes, the one that Beckett hadn’t ever been able to quite get a handle on, but which he now had a sneaking suspicion meant more than he’d ever let himself dare to hope.
Because he was nothing if not a practical man, and what practical man would ever imagine a duke pledging himself to his footman?
“But…” he began. It was as far as he got.
Jack’s lips curled in a smile as Beckett floundered.
Jacklethim flounder, the cock.
“But…Arden? You love him. I know you do.”
Jack gave a single nod. “I do, yes.”
“Then why didn’t you want to marry him?”
“Because you and I are cut from the same cloth, whereas Arden...” He trailed off meaningfully.
Beckett winced. “He’s sweet.”
“He’s got more than a little spice to him, when you get to know him. But, yes. He is a gentle, sweet, quiet man. You and Iare not the best mates for a man such as him.” He sighed. “I’ve loved Arden for a very long time. Enough time to look inside my heart and know that if I truly loved him, I had to let him go. To know that I wasn’t the best for him. Not by a long shot.”
“Bollocks. Can’t get better than you,” Beckett said stoutly. His cheeks warmed again. He didn’t care. He wasn’t going to take it back.
“I’m glad you think so, my love.”
Beckett’s cheeks warmed further at that.My love. He’d said it before. In the dark, in bed, during a tussle or perhaps afterwards, if Beckett allowed himself to sprawl over Jack’s chest, or allowed Jack to lie on top of him and pin him for a bit.
He’d never said it like this. In daylight, in his study, with Beckett standing before him in his livery.
Beckett didn’t know what to make of it, so he decided to make nothing at all. Or at least, to shove it away out of sight until he could mull it over in privacy.
“I wanted a beta for Arden. A man as gentle as he is.”
Beckett bristled at the thought of anyone else with his omega. WithJack’somega, he corrected.And a little bit his, that small, greedy voice in his head said. “He needs more than that.”
Jack didn’t seem convinced.
“He does,” Beckett said. “Passionate little thing like him? A beta couldn’t make him feel. Couldn’t make him come alive like I could. You could.”
Like we could.
“His body might be made for it, but I always wondered whether or not he’d welcome that kind of awakening. It is moot now, of course. There’s no winding the clock back for any of us.” He paused, then said heavily, “What I wanted for Arden was a life of peace and happiness. I wanted him with a man who would cherish him. Love him, with all that he had.”
“Right. Sounds like you’d managed that,” Beckett pointed out.
“You think I’d bring him peace?”
Beckett scrunched up his nose. It was an old, childish habit that he’d trained himself out of as unbefitting for a footman with his ambitions. It made Jack laugh, though.
“Exactly,” Jack said. “I envisaged him living in a tidy little house somewhere, with a garden of his own, filled with blossom and bees. He is exceptionally fond of bees. Used to be beetles. I liked the idea of him with a skep or two tucked in amongst his flowers. He’s an artist, did you know? He could sketch all day long in the sun, somewhere like that. Read, perhaps. Keep his bees. Live how he pleased. Be valued.”
