Ifyougive me a chance, he didn’t say.
Beckett hadn’t known his father. Hadn’t particularly felt the absence of the man, either. His mam had been a good, strong woman. Done a bang-up job of raising him, Beckett thought, and no one could doubt it now, what with him standing here talking about one day running a duke’s estate, and him a washerwoman’s son from the slums.
If he had to guess, though, he reckoned paternal disappointment felt a lot like this. It didn’t sit well. Not at all.
“As long as you keep trying, Beckett, I’ll give you a chance.”
“Fair enough.”
They stared at each other.
Beckett scratched the back of his neck. “So, about going to Sevennis…?”
“If I said no, that I need you here?”
Beckett could spot a test a mile off. “I’m supposed to say I’ll stay. We both know I won’t.” May as well go with honesty.
It didn’t seem to irritate Marl, though. “In that case, for what it’s worth, you’re dismissed.”
Beckett got to the door before turning back.
Marl raised a brow.
“About fixing things with the duch…?”
“Gifts? Love notes? Flowers?” Marl took great delight in adding, “Poetry?”
Beckett grimaced.
“Don’t worry about the duch. His Grace will bring him home. You can court him then.”
“With poetry?”
“Court him however you usually court your lovers! I am willing to train you to become an estate manager. I am not willing to train you how to woo someone.”
Beckett didn’t mention that he hadn’t ever actually courted anyone before. He’d shagged plenty, but that was a straightforward enough business.Do you want some?was what he usually said, and things went from there or they didn’t. Mostly they did.
Worked on Jack.
As for Arden…Arden would accept him when he was in heat, Beckett was sure enough of that. And he liked to look at Beckett. He was sure enough of that, too, going on the number of times the little omega had crept about and peeked at him.
Whether he’d let Beckett near him when he wasn’t in heat, or for anything other than a shag, was another matter altogether.
And it was a matter to ponder another day, he thought at the sour expression on Marl’s face. It was clear Marl knew what he was thinking about.
Beckett got to the door before turning and marching back again.
Marl groaned. “What now?”
“Do you have any requests or instructions for me to fulfil for you while I’m in town?”
Now that expression on his face was more like it. Surprise, but the good kind. “There are a few matters that you can see to,” he said slowly.
Beckett gave him a firm nod. “Write me a list. I’ll get it done.”
Marl hesitated, and gave him a small nod back.
He quickly changedfrom his smart livery into plain breeches, an unbleached linen shirt, and a waxed canvas greatcoat that had seen better days but he’d been glad to pick up for a decent price from one of the gamekeepers who was moving on. Once he’d packed, Beckett swung by the kitchen to grab some bread and cheese before ducking in to Mrs Foley’s parlour to see if she had any errands to add to the list Marl had given him.
