Page 83 of Most Unusual Duke

“One would be better fixed by listening to a female midwife,” Tabitha said. “Much common wisdom is not confirmed by science, and it may be simply that science is unable to compel common wisdom to conform to its methods. One anticipates a day in which we combine what has always been known by our ancestors and what is yet to be known through scientific inquiry. It is a balance, I believe, that may be struck through the unity of intuition and observable knowledge. And once women are as prevalent in the field as are men.”

Beatrice kicked off her slippers and curled her legs beneath her. “Do speak more of this balance, Tabitha.”

***

“Do not! I have engineered this precisely!” Arthur batted Lowell away from the scaffolding of branches. He collected his coat and shoved his arms through the sleeves. Lowell seemed inclined to fuss over it and set it just so about his shoulders, muttering about the line of the thing. The small woodland animals, their only witnesses, were unlikely to be bothered by a poorly hanging garment.

“I hope you will treat theinitiatiowith the decorum it deserves,” Lowell said, giving one last yank to the coat’s hem. “One would expect full regalia, if you even possess it.”

“I have the appropriate garments, for the love of Odin.” He was almost certain he had. “That Todd creature His Meddling Highness made us employ is seeing to it.”

Georgie huffed. “You are the recipient of every aid required to fully step into your role of Alpha due to the good offices of those around you without the lifting of your littlest finger, and yet you gurn.”

“Always up for a good gurning, is Artie,” Ben teased.

“Is that what you’re calling it?” Bates quipped, and Arthur chased his brother over hill and dale, leaping boulders and crashing through shrubbery until both were breathless and Arthur ended up laughing at the sky.

“I am fortunate.” He stood and faced them: his brother, his cousin, his neighbors. “I thank each of you, here and now and without the formality of ritual speech or fire, and proclaim my gratitude as boundless, just as you say, Georgie. In this place, at this moment, know that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“And that heart will open tomorrow to include us in its gratitude and strength.” Ben looked proud and overcome. “What a day it will be when the Osborn sleuth takes its rightful place once more.”

Arthur embraced Ben and rocked them side to side. Next was Lowell, and the two turned it into a playful competition. Bates and he shared a manly handshake and exchanged slaps on the back. Georgie arched a brow, but Arthur would not be put off as he all but threw himself on their prince. Who among them embraced their regent with the wish to connect rather than to kowtow? What Georgie had said was true and according to His Highness’s design: without Beatrice, Arthur would not be here, and the honor due his prince was, if not boundless, at least comprehensive.

“My thanks,” Arthur said, once more, and turned for the house.

“And felicitations on the taking of your rightful place, Beta,” Bates said to Ben.

The brothers exchanged a smile. “I am the Gamma, Matthias,” Ben said.

“Not the Second?” Ha! Lowell’s Beta appeared astounded. Arthur had got Bates on this one.

“No,” Arthur said. “There is another.”

Twenty-one

Another nightgown she was not aware she possessed had been laid out on the bed. It was white, as sheer as a breath on a winter’s day, and tied in a rather suggestive fashion at the tops of her shoulders with ribbons as fine as spiderweb. The accompanying robe was cobalt velveteen, and the hue made her eyes sparkle like sapphires. As much as she appreciated it, the ensemble deserved to be admired by another party—

“Beatrice.” Arthur called her name from outside her window.

Without hesitation, she threw her legs over the sill and was lifted into his arms. He set her down with care and, taking her hand, drew her toward his woodland sanctuary.

“I was there the night Felicity met the duke, you know.” Beatrice took a deep breath of the fresh night air.

“Were you?” Arthur laced their fingers together. “I heard he carried her away through the Countess of Livingston’s garden.”

“He did. He swept her up in his arms and spirited her off at speed.”

“Is that a dare, Madam?”

Beatrice hesitated one heartbeat too long: he lifted her with as much effort as he would an apple, and off he sped, into his copse, achieving his goal in less time than she had to draw two breaths. He stopped at the entrance, set her down, and gently spun her around to face a bower of cushions and blankets, the velvet curtain from the attics hanging as a backdrop from sturdy branches. Lanterns were scattered about, light playing over the rich colors of the fabrics, and a hamper sat to the side, spilling over with sustenance. The setting was made even more exquisite as it meshed so well within the sumptuousness of nature, the stars and the moon peeking through the canopy of trees.

Beatrice leaned against him, tucked under his chin. “Did you find inspiration inLa Belle Assembléeafter all?”

“I did not.” Arthur huffed. “It was, in fact,The Lady’s Monthly Museum.”

“It never was!” Beatrice laughed.

He turned her in his arms and took her face in his hands, marveling at her expression. “‘Loose now and then a scattered smile and that I’ll live upon.’”

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