The Bluestocking’s Absolutely Brilliant Betrothal (The Notorious Briarwoods #6)

Chapter 4

A chilles entered Heron House, after a two-hour ride, to the sound of a baby crying.

Some people might have found this sound irritating or obnoxious or difficult. Achilles smiled from ear to ear. He wholeheartedly adored his nieces and nephews.

Frankly, he hoped the entire house would soon be populated by small people running about doing silly things.

He adored their tiny antics, and he truly hoped that he might soon have a few antic-makers of his own, despite what everybody else might think about him longing to remain a bachelor for years to come.

He had not yet admitted to his whole family that he was done with being a rake. He’d only truly just admitted it to himself, and there was no denying he was joyful in the role of uncle. After all, as uncle, he could have the most fun with them and then send them back off to Mama, Papa, or the nursery.

He figured it was quite good practice getting to know how to deal with the small balls of intense emotion in short doses. He would be able to handle them much better as a father, and he did look forward to being a father.

The two-hour ride had done him a world of good.

He had to do such things. Otherwise, his mind would spin with thoughts of France and the state of affairs his nieces and nephews would have to grow up in. If enough good people did the right thing, all would be well.

He crossed through the hallway, heading through the foyer, and was ready to go up the massive set of stairs that would take him to his chamber and a long hot bath, whereupon he would be cleansed, get dressed, and then head into town.

He had an appointment with his favorite bookshop. He was looking forward to selecting new volumes, which of course was rather ironic, considering that his sister-in-law was a publisher.

He already had all the books she had printed. But he was a voracious reader. He always had been and, at present, he was particularly fascinated with the myths around King Arthur. It was a very fascinating idea—the boy being thrust away, hidden, and then suddenly coming back to pull a sword from a stone and become Britain’s one true king, only to let it fall apart in the end. He didn’t like the idea that one could be a great king and then let it all fall apart, but it did seem to be what life guaranteed. Things fell apart. Always, things would completely and totally unravel. But he would do his very best to keep things as raveled as possible.

As he headed up the first set of stairs, he heard the swish of skirts.

“My darling boy,” his beloved mama called.

He turned and smiled. He adored his mother. She was a wonder of a person, and unlike many sons in the ton, none of hers pretended to dislike her company. No, they fully admired their mother because she knew how to let them go when the moment was right, and to hold them close when they required it.

“Yes, Mama, what is it?” he asked.

“What are you up to now, my dear?” she asked, leaning against the balustrade, her eyes shining with some plan.

“I am about to go into town. I have several books to buy. My brain, you know. I must keep it in form, lest it rot with idleness.”

She rolled her eyes. “Idleness? Some of the world might think you idle. But they are fools. Still, I second anything that will keep your mind engaged on this side of the Channel, my dear. Spend as freely as you wish. Buy as many books as you want. Buy a whole bookshop.”

He groaned. “Mama,” he said, “I promise you I shall not go gallivanting off to France again. Not unless there’s a war, of course.”

She winced, but she nodded her head. It truly seemed that it would only be a matter of time until there was a war, and as a younger son, it would likely be his duty to go and serve. But he would not think of that now. After all, if it came to it, there were many things he would do better than carry a weapon, though he could do that well.

“What do you wish, Mama?” he asked. “I feel as if you have a purpose to this tête-a-tête.”

She waggled her brows. “Yes, my dear. I’m about to go and help your sister-in-law, and I left my notebook in my salon. Could you please go fetch it for me and bring it upstairs?”

“Of course, Mama,” he said easily, and she smiled.

It was a dazzling smile, and there was a hint of mischief to it, but then all of his mother’s smiles were generally touched by a hint of mischief. He turned on his booted heel, headed back down the steps, and went in the direction of her salon.

He did wonder that she did not simply go do it herself, but perhaps she was late to see whichever sister-in-law it was, for he did have a few of them now. And no doubt, she would go off and cuddle the baby that was crying.

After all, his mother adored all of her grandbabies. Yes, she went out every night on the town because she still appreciated vital conversation, dancing, political discourse, and, of course, she still had Perdita on the scene.

But most of all, she loved being with her family. At the heart of everything, his mother loved her family.

He crossed through the halls, walking quickly, eager to get to his bath. He headed into the foyer, crossed to the little table where she generally kept her notebook, then stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a young lady sitting in the chair by the fire looking rather agitated.

“Are you quite well?” he asked, and he immediately wondered why his mother had not mentioned that there was a young lady in the room.

Did she not know? He doubted that.

The young lady swung her gaze up to him and cleared her throat.

She was… Dear God, she was beautiful. Her blonde hair shone in the morning light and her eyes gleamed with intelligence, yet there was a caution to them, as if she was not entirely certain what to expect. There was a sense of urgency to her body, which was beautifully curved under her pale linen gown.

“I am,” she said. “I am visiting the dowager duchess. She said she would return soon.”

He arched a brow. “Did she, by God? Well, Mama is splendid at assisting people. Whatever you need, I’m sure she will secure it for you.”

She nodded, her lips parting with a brief smile of relief. But then she frowned. “Do you need me to go? Perhaps you require the room—”

He held up his hand, hoping to reassure her. “I’ve come to collect a notebook for my mama.”

What then struck him immediately was the fact that his mother had almost certainly wished him to meet this young lady, but the question was why .

He cocked his head to the side, spotted the green leather-bound notebook, picked it up, and then crossed to the center of the room. He studied the young woman with more attention than usual.

She was clearly very clever, she was clearly a member of the ton, and yet she was here in his mother’s parlor. Alone .

“Are you about to run off and become an actress?” he asked.

She let out a laugh, a slightly strained sound, but then her shoulders seemed to ease. “Your mother asked me almost the very same question.”

“Well, we have similar minds,” he replied before he cleared his throat as his body began to do the most interesting things. The room, which was a room he’d been in many times, seemed to contract until there was only them. And his whole body, from the top of his head to the tips of his boots, seemed to vibrate with awareness at her nearness. And respond most deliciously and…inconveniently. “And you are?”

“My name is Lady Aurelia Pritchard,” she replied.

His brows rose. “Are you, by any chance, the daughter of Lord Pritchard?”

She nodded.

“Splendid fellow. I heard he’s in Bath.” Then he softened his tone. “I heard he wasn’t particularly well.”

She frowned. “Thank you,” she said. “We hope that he shall return from Bath and be on the mend.”

“I certainly hope so,” he said, wishing he could offer her better comfort than simple words.

He hesitated, looking for the right words. “Is that why you are here?”

She blinked. “Why do you wish to know why I’m here? Surely, I am beneath your notice.”

“You?” he asked, his voice suddenly a touch lower than he’d intended. “You could never be beneath my notice.”

Her cheeks blossomed red, and he realized he was slipping onto dangerous ground. Seductive ground. And more than anything, for reasons he did not quite understand, he wished her to feel at ease. So he rushed, “I am a terribly curious fellow, if I must admit it. It is a Briarwood blessing and curse. Depending on the day.”

She laughed, as he hoped she would, but then her face grew cloudy with dismay. “I have come here seeking your mother’s help. I have several friends in Paris, and I wish to do as much as I can in London at present to assist them… One of my dearest friends, whom I have written to weekly for years, is in grave danger in Paris. She and I shared so many hopes for the future and the changes we wished to see in the world. So, you see, I do not wish to spend all of my time on the marriage mart.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?” he said.

She scowled. “Perhaps you think it foolish of me. Perhaps you think that I should simply allow things to continue as they are, that I should put my mind to—”

“No,” he protested, taking a step forward, stunned by her point of view and her passion. “Not at all. I admire you for your ideals, for your determination to assist your friends. Who are they?”

She folded her hands in her lap and twisted them as if she was trying to retain her composure. “I’ve written to several people in the general circle of Olympe de Gouges and the Jacobins who are now being persecuted.”

He scowled. “It’s a damned shame… Her execution,” he said. Then he considered how he had spoken in front of a young lady and added, “Forgive my language.”

She sat up a little straighter and seemed pleased at his response. “The language is perfectly appropriate.”

“You’re an intellectual?”

“I wouldn’t use that word exactly.”

“I would, if you’re writing to the likes of those people,” he countered. “Are you friends with Mrs. Wollstonecraft?” he asked.

Her brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t say we’re friends . I’m a devotee of her work and her circle’s. My parents are, well, unique.”

He began to smile slowly. “As is my family. Since you are here, you’ve clearly surmised my mother is certainly unique. And I did know that Lord Pritchard was not exactly average in his thinking about education and the way the world should be run.”

As a matter of fact, Lord Pritchard had yelled and shouted in Lords many a time about the proper treatment of children, and how all children should be given a kind and good education, and that physical discipline should not be used upon the body of the vulnerable. He’d called for the end of workhouses. Achilles liked Lord Pritchard. He had little to do with him, of course, because Achilles was not a member of the House of Lords, even though he went there to listen to his brother, the duke, speak often.

“You don’t wish to marry?” he suddenly said.

She shrugged. “I must,” she said, “but I would like to delay it.”

“Would you?” he queried, trying to make sense of what exactly she had come here for.

“Yes. You see—” she brightened and her speech picked up with both intensity and speed “—I have many plans, and marriage will make all of them difficult.”

He blinked at her. “But what about love?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

He found himself taken aback. Weren’t most young ladies looking for love? Didn’t all the modern novels espouse love matches? Her general frustration at the idea was quite a surprise. Especially since he was looking for such a match. “Do your parents not—”

“Oh, my parents love each other very well. Very well indeed,” she exclaimed. “Love is a wonderful thing. But they’re so consumed with each other it’s as if they have forgotten the rest of the universe exists. I think that an entire comet could cross the sky, and my mother would never notice for looking at my father.”

He let out a laugh. “How splendid,” he said.

“No,” she said with shocking grimness, “it is not. It is wonderful that they love each other, but the entire world could come undone, and they would do nothing to stop it.”

“Ah, I see. You wish to be a warrior, not a lover.”

Her lips parted, but then she snapped her mouth shut as if she was holding some vital thing back.

What wasn’t she saying? What other piece was keeping her from love? Whatever it was, she feared it. It was there in the way her back suddenly tensed and her eyes hardened.

“Yes,” she said, “that is exactly it. All I want is to help those who need it, to prevent more horror. To make sense of all this chaos. Surely, we must make sense of chaos and right it!”

In his experience, the world was chaos. Perhaps there was order to it, but it was on such a scale that humans likely could not truly understand it. Cruelty happened so randomly and so frequently that he had taken up the Briarwood idea of living life to the full and embracing love, for there was no time to waste.

Life waited for no one.

He studied her face, the rising color in her cheeks, the way her lips parted as if she had more to profess. She was glorious, and her passion truly was to be admired. He found something stirring inside him, something wild and deep and intense. But she had no wish to marry. Surely, he should ignore such a young lady.

And yet he found himself taking another step forward.

“Dare I pursue your purpose here? Will you confess what exactly it is you are hoping for from my mother?”

She locked gazes with him, a clear battle taking place within her as to whether she should be honest. But then, as if a tide was swallowing her up, she stated, “I am hoping that she will help me find a way to delay marriage,” she said, “so that I can continue the very important work that I wish to do, work I have already begun doing.”

He blinked. “How very noble of you,” he said, “to set aside love for your fellow man.”

She nodded but eyed him carefully as if she feared he was mocking her.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “I promise. There is nothing that I could possibly admire more than what you wish.”

She licked her lower lip, then drew in a steadying breath, clearly surprised to find an ally in him. “Thank you. I’m glad you understand.”

And he did. He’d done the same thing for years, until he had realized that love was the thing that mattered most. If one did not have love for themselves, they could not truly help the world. He was tempted to say it, but before he could, she cleared her throat.

“Surely, we should not be alone, my lord. It is most inappropriate. I should hate to be discovered and find myself forced into the very situation I long to avoid.”

His lips curled in a slow smile. “Yes,” he said, “very inappropriate indeed. Thank goodness you’re here at Heron House rather than anywhere else. A little scandal here never hurt anyone at all.”

Her brows rose as she took in his words, and for one moment, he was certain that she was contemplating what kind of scandal he meant, and perhaps, just perhaps, whether he would be worth it.