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

Chapter 6

“Y ou need to ask her to marry you.”

Achilles stared at his mother and nearly went face-first into the large topiary in the garden. “I b-beg your pardon, Mama?” he stuttered as he righted himself.

She appeared perfectly at ease as she picked a leaf from his hair. “You need to ask her to marry you,” she repeated. “It’s the only solution to her dilemma, at least that I can see. She doesn’t want to tell her father that she has no wish to wed as the poor man is in ill health.”

His darling mama grew rather serious and her gaze, which was often so merry, turned compassionate. “I think that’s truly why she’s doing what she’s doing. It has nothing to do with all this bluestocking nonsense.”

He narrowed his gaze, not suspicious of her compassion but at her commentary on bluestockings. “Mama, you don’t believe bluestocking anything is nonsense.”

“That’s true, my dear. Pardon me.” She contemplated the topiary and frowned. “Just a turn of phrase, but you do think I’m correct, don’t you? We wouldn’t wish Lord Pritchard to have a moment in which he’s concerned that his daughter is going to spend her entire life as a spinster or a bluestocking. Or worse, a total outcast because of some mistake she made.”

“Mama,” he said again, wondering what the devil was happening, “you don’t mind bluestockings or spinsters.”

“No, no, of course I don’t,” his mother said, her eyes fluttering wide as she brought her hand to her heart. “I think they’re simply marvelous. The world needs them and, dear God, they’re far happier than many married women. But many, many parents, my dear, are terrified at the idea of their daughters becoming spinsters or bluestockings. And Lord Pritchard is one of the few truly good fellows in the Lords. So, we must protect Lord and Lady Pritchard from their daughter’s unusual hopes for just a little while. At least until we know the true state of Pritchard’s health.”

She frowned and turned back to the house, gazing at the windows of her salon. “If her parents were awful people, I would tell her to tell them outright, damn the consequences, but they’re not awful. And poor Lord Pritchard didn’t look well at all the last time I saw him. Quite gray. So don’t you think you could be a dear and help the young lady out?”

He felt his insides tighten because he was confused as to what his mother genuinely wished of him. “You want me to ask her to marry me? Isn’t marriage what she hopes to avoid?”

His mother arched a brow as if she expected better of him. “You don’t actually have to marry her if the lady is determined to remain single.”

“A ruse.”

“To buy a bit of time for her and the family, yes. It’s the kindest thing. And you are so kind.”

He was kind, and he was glad his mama thought so well of him. But then he stopped and narrowed his gaze, asking, “You don’t think she’s the one, Mama?”

His mama blinked her lashes furiously. “Whatever do you mean, my darling?”

She then abruptly turned and patted at a large white rose.

He felt his stomach do something very strange. It definitely wasn’t dread that he felt… It was anticipation.

His mother might actually think Lady Aurelia was the one, but his mother had never asked him for such a favor before. And it was incredibly difficult to say no to someone like his mother.

But this was a rather large ask.

And yet she had done everything for him, always, and supported him. So, if his mother asked him to do something so strange, wild, and radical as to ask a young lady that he had only just met to be his wife, especially when Briarwoods only married for love, perhaps he would be willing to take the chance that it would all work out in the end.

Whether he and Lady Aurelia parted or did indeed walk down the aisle.

Still, he felt compelled to point out, “She seemed rather adamant that she has no desire to marry.”

“Oh, dear. That’s perfectly fine, isn’t it?” his mother asked. “And if she does want to marry you, and the two of you like each other, it will all be well and good.”

“And if she doesn’t?” he said.

“Do you wish her to, my dear?” his mother asked, her voice trilling up.

“Mama,” he stated, “I have only just met her!”

She grinned. “That hasn’t ever stopped a Briarwood, my dear, and you’ve seemed rather full of ennui of late, which is not like you. This would prove a marvelous distraction.”

Distraction.

Was that all he needed? A distraction? Or was Lady Aurelia so much more?

There was really only one way to find out.

He had immediately liked Lady Aurelia. His entire body had immediately liked her. And well, if the young lady needed assistance, he could oblige. What would be the worst outcome? She didn’t want to marry him, and she hied off? It was perfectly acceptable for a lady to cancel engagement plans.

A gentleman could not do so without causing a great deal of scandal, but something whispered to him that he did indeed need to ask Lady Aurelia to wed.

And Briarwoods did not ignore such inner whisperings.

What if she was the one? He was certainly ready for the one. He wanted the one. He’d seen his brothers and sisters find their ones and be so full of happiness that he almost choked upon it. That was jealousy speaking, of course. He desperately wanted it. Surely, it was his time.

It was his turn. He didn’t want to have to drag it out.

“How long of an engagement shall we say?”

“Just long enough, my darling, that her father fully recovers.” His mother shrugged. “And then, of course, you can make a decision about what should be done, but won’t you help her, my dear? She has so much that she wishes to do. And if you don’t, she might end up absolutely at odds with her parents or engaged to a complete idiot. It’s very difficult for young ladies out there who wish to do things. Husbands so often wish to control them. Your father didn’t, of course, and none of your brothers do with their wives. But, unfortunately, the vast majority of men are foolish when it comes to women.”

Achilles let out a groan and pressed his hand to his forehead. It seemed an action fraught with peril. But Briarwoods had never shrunk in the face of such things before. “Mama, if this is what you require of me, I am happy to oblige. It does not seem a great inconvenience. What exactly do I need to do?”

His mother clapped her hands together, clearly delighted that her plot was going to begin. “You will ask the young lady to be your bride. Of course, you shall inform her it will all be a ruse. I’ll affirm that for her, since that is what she’s hoping for. A means to continue what she’s doing without upsetting her parents. All of society will be tricked into thinking she is taken off the market, and you simply need to take her to balls and things. And that way, everyone will assume it’s all true.”

He rather liked the idea of taking her to “balls and things,” as his mother put it. As a matter of fact, he liked it a great deal. “Are you going to go back and tell her now, Mama?”

“I think so,” she said. “Are you truly amenable? I know this is all rather fast.”

“Sometimes the very best things happen quickly,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, smiling at him, her eyes warm with approval. “I agree. I think we mustn’t overthink things, my dear. Overthinking is a very dangerous thing indeed. It gets one into a great deal of trouble, causes a great deal of nerves, and, well, only ends in general malaise. I think it best not to think too hard about anything. Think deeply, yes, but hard? No.”

The distinctions between these two things seemed rather difficult to him, but, in general, he felt he understood. His mother believed in the power of one’s feelings, and yet she was very careful about not getting swept away by them, and she advised against letting one’s thoughts turn into an ever-whirling twirl in one’s head.

She was very good about stopping problematic worries.

“All right, Mama,” he said. “Let’s do it. Let’s help the young lady. She’s very interested in France, you know.”

“Oh, I do know,” his mother replied simply. “It’s a perfect match, the two of you. No doubt, you two shall figure out a way to stop Robespierre in his tracks.”

He ground his teeth. “Mama, please do not make light of it.”

And with that, his mother’s eyes, for the first time in as many years as he could recall, filled with tears. “Oh, my dear, I cannot do anything else. For if I allow myself to truly consider what is happening, I shall take to my bed and not leave it.”

His own heart softened. “Mama,” he said, “I am so very sorry.”

“Your friends, the French, never liked me that much,” she said softly. “They’re even more stiff about certain protocols than we are in England, but the friends I did have, my dear, oh, I cannot even begin to express the horror of it.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. He longed to reach out and brush it aside, but he knew better than to try to suppress her tears.

His mother firmly believed that if one needed a good cry, one should have it.

“I will do everything I can to help, Mama.”

She drew in a shaking breath. “I know, darling. I know, but you must be careful. I would not wish anything to befall you. You won’t go back to Paris, will you?”

He grimaced. “No, Mama. I don’t think I could do any good there now. The English are not liked on the streets. Maybe if I had gone back a while ago.”

“Well, don’t,” she said. “Please don’t. And I pray Jean-Luc won’t ever be so foolish.”

“I don’t think he will be,” he ventured, even as his gut tightened. “He knows that he would be dead as soon as he set foot on the shores.”

But sometimes knowing something and following that knowing were two different things. He feared that Jean-Luc might wake up one day and no longer be able to take what was happening in France.

“To think that this is where we are,” she rasped. “Dear God in heaven.” His mother turned to a rosebud and stroked its petals softly. She was silent for a long moment, and her spirit sagged in a way that he had never seen.

“We must do what little good we can. Help all those we can,” she said. “And we must be merry and live life with full zest. For we do not know what the future brings, what it holds, and when we might be plucked up and taken.”

She swung her gaze back to him. “Do you understand, my love?”

“I do, Mama.” And he thought he did.

He’d seen a country be snapped up into a fervor of bloodthirst and fire. He’d watched the tinder be struck and the embers burn. And he knew well how one could go to bed thinking all was well with the world and wake up the next morning and see that the rumblings that had been all around had erupted into destruction.

One had to do what one could with their life and not waste a bit of it. And much to his dismay, he felt as if he had been wasting it.

So, if he could help Lady Aurelia with her dancing eyes, her passionate features, and her determination to help people and make the world better than it was, he would.

And if she was running from her fears of her father’s illness? He’d help with that too. He knew loss. And he’d never leave her alone to face that darkness alone.

How could he possibly say no? He never would’ve imagined that this was how he’d ask a young lady to marry him. Oh, it wouldn’t be a real proposal.

But he wondered… And a thought came that started, not in his head, no, it started in his heart and then traveled through his blood, wrapping him up in a question.

Could one indeed fall in love at first sight? It seemed such a silly thing. Such a romantic bit of drivel. Something written by the playwrights. Something written by Shakespeare.

But his whole family loved Shakespeare.

They lived their lives by the poetry of those plays. The ups and downs, the wisdoms, the foolishness of the characters, and he was going to give himself over to this.

He felt as if something had been set into motion already this morning when he had come in and heard the baby cry, and then gone to find his mother, only to be sent after her notebook.

And then he snapped his gaze back to his mother. “Mama?” he challenged.

She stared up at him innocently. “Yes?”

“Why did you send me in to look for your notebook?”

“Why do you think I did, my dear?” his mother asked, even as her brows rose ever so slightly.

In the end, the answer didn’t matter.

What mattered was that he was glad to see the sorrow gone from her face, but he knew… He knew with all his heart that his mother had begun maneuvering things, and once his mother put her mind to something, nothing got in her way.

No matter what anyone said.