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

Chapter 15

A chilles had never felt so happy as he did in that moment, sitting in the theatre box surrounded by his family.

His mother and Aurelia were sitting side by side, chatting away, waiting for the play to begin. It seemed that Aurelia did not often attend the theatre. It was not something her family enjoyed. And given the fact that they were rather staid members of the ton, that did make sense.

He could not wait to marry Aurelia and thrust her into the more exciting areas of society life. There would be no boring matron’s balls for her. She would instead get to meet all the great artists, all the great writers, all the great actors of society, and soon they would travel.

He knew the countryside of Europe was challenging to travel to at present, but he’d be very careful with her, and he would take her places she had never imagined going.

She struck him as an excellent traveler, someone who wanted to learn all about the world and enjoy all that there was to learn in life.

Yes, they were the kind of people who would go about, meet exciting and interesting people, try new things, and live life to its very fullest, all while helping others. They would drink deeply from the cup of life.

It was imperative to both of them to bring people out of fear and suffering. And the only way to do that? Well, it was to continue to develop a sympathy for all those around them, and travel really was the best option for that.

If one could not travel, the next best thing was the theatre.

They were going to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream , and his aunt was playing Titania. Everyone knew that his aunt was playing Titania, but no one really spoke about it because his mother had been on the stage many, many years ago. It was how she had met his father. And, of course, there had been the fact that she’d been part of an acting family.

She had retired from acting upon his father’s proposal. Duchesses did not tread the boards in public, though sometimes they did in their homes. Court theatre had once been a very popular thing indeed, but his aunt was still one of the most celebrated actresses in London.

The crowd was dressed in its finest. There was a crush down below. People were crowding all of the seats, and wine was being consumed all around them.

The boxes were filled with the most wealthy and important of patrons, and everyone was eyeing everyone else, complimenting and insulting each other’s fashions behind handkerchiefs, and waving fans. It was a very exciting place to be. The din was near deafening with the conversations going around, and he loved to see Aurelia full of excitement.

And she was smiling.

How he loved to see it. He’d done that. He had been able to bring that smile to her face, and he wanted to see it remain there. And he knew that sometimes it would have to dissipate, but if he could, he would make certain that it was the primary expression upon her face.

“My dear,” his mother called, suddenly turning her gaze to him. “Did you ever tell Aurelia about the splendid little set of wings I made for you when you were a boy and played Puck?”

“No, Mama,” he said through gritted teeth, “I did not.”

His mother waggled her silver brows and said, “He was wonderful. He did the best impression of a mischievous magical fellow and assistant to the fairy king you could ever imagine.”

“And who played the fairy king?” Aurelia asked with wide-eyed amusement.

The Duke of Westleigh strode through the curtains of the box and boomed, “I did, of course.”

And he sat down beside their darling mama, with his wife beside him.

It was remarkable how many Briarwoods could actually fit into a single box. Though some would have thought it was a better idea to have more than one, they liked to sit ridiculously close. And luckily, the fashions of the day allowed for such a thing.

Just a few years ago, it would have been impossible with the wide skirts of gentlemen’s coats and ladies’ broad panniers.

Aurelia’s eyes widened at the sight of the duke.

They had, of course, crossed paths, but they hadn’t had a formal introduction.

His brother was the friendliest and most wonderful of men. He was also volatile, powerful, and sometimes a trifle unhinged.

The duke and his wife caused quite a stir wherever they went. Everyone looked at the handsome couple, and for a moment, everyone was quiet.

Mercy, the duchess, was absolutely beautiful.

She was also an American, and everyone loved to talk about her and her publishing company because she was quite unusual. Ladies of the ton were not supposed to, well, work. Officially, that was.

In truth, ladies of the ton worked a great deal. They participated in politics. They campaigned. They led salons. They assisted authors. They assisted musicians. They held the most important dinner parties to make certain that the people who ran the world could truly run it.

But Mercy actually was a publisher. She loved books and always had, and she and her brother had run a company in New York. Her brother still had a printing press, so the written word and ink was in the family blood.

“I would’ve loved the pair of wings,” the Duke of Westleigh drawled as he stretched out his extremely long legs beside his mama’s silver embroidered skirts.

“And you would’ve looked marvelous in them, my darling,” their mama returned. “If you long for it, we could always do it again. I’m certain we could get you a good pair of wings with some nice shining silk.”

The duke waggled his brows at his mama. “Do not make promises, Mama, that you do not intend to keep. Besides, I would dearly love to play Oberon again. Mercy, will you be my Titania?”

Mercy gave him an adoring if perplexed look. “I don’t act. Your sister is the one who acts.”

It was true. Juliet had married Mercy’s American brother and taken to the boards in New York. It was a bit of a scandal, that, but the Briarwoods loved their scandals, and it had all been taken in stride.

“A family drama,” the duke teased, eyeing his wife’s mouth as if he longed to kiss it. “We do love to put on a show.”

Mercy’s lips twitched. “That’s putting it rather lightly. The Briarwoods love to put on full productions.”

Aurelia was glancing back and forth, completely in awe of the conversation.

The dowager duchess clapped her hands together and said, “Don’t you know it. It’ll be absolutely marvelous. And you, my dear,” she said, taking Aurelia’s hand in hers, “would make the perfect Hermia. You are not quite short enough for it, but you are not too tall either. So I think you’ll do.”

Aurelia’s eyes widened. “I?”

“Oh, yes,” his mother enthused. “You would be splendid. I can see it. You would do very well as the determined young woman who insists on marrying the man she loves, willing to defy her father and run off into the forest to do so.”

Aurelia frowned. “I don’t know if that actually describes me very well.”

His mama smiled. “Well, it is acting, after all, isn’t it?”

Aurelia grinned. “I suppose so.”

Aurelia looked a bit overborne, and suddenly Perdita stood and said, “Will you be a dear and accompany me down the hall?”

Aurelia cleared her throat and nodded, looking as if she didn’t mind the idea of a few moments out of the attention of his family.

Likely it was simply because they took some getting used to. She didn’t seem appalled. They were just a noisy bunch.

The two went off together like two conspirators.

His mother beamed, clapping her jeweled hands together. “My darling, you’ve done it.”

“She’s radiant,” Mercy said. “When are the two of you going to marry?”

“Soon,” his mama drawled. “She’s radiant for a reason. I’m so glad you two have put aside any silly denial of feelings.”

“Mama,” he gritted as he realized that his mother realized that he and Aurelia had done slightly more than kissing. This was not what he wanted his family to know, but his family was rather unique. They liked to celebrate such things rather than shun them.

“Mama, she has agreed to marry me. It’s true,” he allowed. “And she has agreed to do it soon because she’s realized that she and I make a remarkable team.”

“Of course you do. Of course you do,” she said.

“Just like myself and Mercy,” the Duke of Westleigh said.

“Exactly,” he agreed, feeling quite positive.

His mother leaned forward, eager for details. “And how did you convince her?”

He drew in a breath. “Well, I told her that love didn’t matter.”

The enthusiasm in the box suddenly died, and his mother’s smile dimmed. “I beg your pardon, my dear?”

“I told her that it was perfectly all right if she didn’t love me, that I’d marry her in any case.”

The color all but drained from his mother’s face.

His brother, the duke, began coughing, and Mercy let out a rather plaintive note.

“You did what?” his mother said.

“Well, if she’s the one for me, I should take her exactly as she is,” he defended.

“What if she doesn’t love you, my darling?” his mother blurted.

He stiffened. “Mama, you were the one who put her in my path.”

“Yes, because I was certain that she was going to have her heart thawed and that she’d fall in love with you.” His mother whipped out her fan and began waving it slowly. “Are you telling me that her heart is still frozen?”

“It is definitely still frozen,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“I’m going to murder Perdita,” his mother suddenly said.

“That doesn’t sound like Shakespeare. That sounds like a Greek play,” the Duke of Westleigh said.

Their mother narrowed her gaze. “I suppose I’m willing to transfer alliance from one author to the next as my favorite. I adore Shakespeare but Euripides will do,” she said. “This is a bloody tragedy. Achilles, you deserve love. You cannot marry a girl who is determined not to love you.”

“This is your fault,” he said to his mother. “You’re the one—”

“Yes, I realize that,” she cut in. “I was told by the family that perhaps my skills were slightly weaker than usual when I agreed to this whole thing.”

“Weaker than usual,” he echoed, the air whooshing out of his lungs. All his actions had been based on the family tradition of his mother’s intuition and finding the one.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I wasn’t taking particularly good care of myself.”

“Mama, I am so very sorry we allowed you to neglect yourself,” he said quite honestly. Then he asked, slowly, as the reality hit him, “You have put my future in your hands as you’ve done with all your children regarding marriage. And now, you’re telling me that you are perhaps mistaken? She might not be the one…”

His mother cleared her throat. “It is possible that I might have misread the situation, given that I was rather tired and didn’t realize it. When she came to the house, she seemed the perfect one for you.”

“Mama, I can’t back out of this marriage, and I’m in love with her.”

A gasp came up from his family.

“Of course you are, my darling. Of course,” his mother rushed. “She’s marvelous.”

“Now what?” the Duke of Westleigh said. “This is a first.”

Jean-Luc stumbled in, a brandy flask in his hand.

“Bloody hell, this is actually your fault,” Achilles ground out.

“Stop saying that,” his elder brother retorted.

“You can’t blame everyone for your own problems,” his mother pointed out.

A strangled note slipped form his throat. “Mama, you’re the one…”

“My dear,” she asked gently, “is it my fault or Jean-Luc’s that you’ve fallen in love with her?”

Jean-Luc blinked. “What is it now?” he said. “I thought you and I had made up.”

“We have,” he rushed, “but I think that you have somehow cursed my relationship with Lady Aurelia.”

Jean-Luc blinked. “What the blazes are you talking about, you mad Englishman?”

“She’s not going to ever love me. That’s what she said,” he stated, the world and all his earlier contentment whirling away. “And Mama now says that she thinks she made a mistake and, actually, Aurelia isn’t the one for me.”

Jean-Luc looked at him. “Merde, do you always do what your mother says?”

“No,” Achilles said.

“So it’s your fault. Also, you told me that you thought that she was the one.”

He swallowed.

“Did you lie to yourself?” Jean-Luc demanded.

“No,” he said.

Jean-Luc gave an exquisite shrug. “So she’s the one. She’s just stubborn. I like that about her.”

Achilles sucked in a slow breath. Perhaps Jean-Luc was right. But the sudden tension in the box, well, it was palpable. The Briarwoods were off their game. The world was off its game. But, surely, it would all work out.

It always did for the Briarwoods, didn’t it?

He felt compelled to go after her. Achilles slipped out into the dark theater hall. He was familiar with this building as much as he was the winding ways of Heron House.

He’d spent most of his childhood running about this theater, for his mother had such a strong relationship with his aunt. The theater, in many ways, was like his mother’s old friend. Grand, old, wise, and a little tattered about the edges, hiding a soul greater than anyone could ever truly know.

Most of the audience had already taken their seats. The play would begin soon, but they still had a little bit of time. He spotted Perdita and his darling soon-to-be wife lingering by one of the candelabras.

Perdita grinned at him. “You couldn’t bear to be away from her for a moment or two?”

He placed his hand dramatically over his heart. “You are correct, sister. I cannot be parted from my beloved.”

“Oh dear,” she groaned. “Promise me you will never write a play. That is the absolute worst dialogue I have ever heard in my life.”

He laughed. “I do not think I shall be given to scribbling in a garret anytime soon.”

With that, Perdita nodded and left them together.

“Are you well?” he asked Aurelia.

She nodded, her beautiful, coifed curls shining in the candlelight.

“Sometimes my family can be a little bit much.”

Her eyes danced with mischief. “I already know that,” she replied, “but I enjoy it immensely, especially Perdita.”

He beamed at her approval. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Desire bloomed within him. He could not help himself. He felt as if she was a rich wine that he longed to quaff again and again. Now that he’d had a taste of her, he needed more.

Wordlessly, he pulled her into the shadows.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“I must have you,” he growled softly.

“You can’t possibly be serious!” she breathed.

But he was. He pulled her deeper into the shadows of the theater hall. He knew this place better than almost anyone else, and he led her to a quiet space.

It was often used by theater hands to store things.

He pulled the curtain shut behind them.

It had been used for assignations, but he also knew, given that it was almost time for the performance to begin, they would be alone.

“I need to kiss you,” he said. “I will die if I don’t.”

She fought a laugh. “Your sister was right. You must promise not to write plays.”

“That bad, is it?” he drawled.

“Indeed. It is absolutely terrible. You can make it up to me though.”

“Of course I can,” he replied.

“With a kiss?” she ventured.

He did not need further urging. She was his, and she always would be. That, in itself, was the most wonderful thing. Who would’ve thought that, though he’d been a rake, all he’d truly ever wanted was to have just one woman who he could adore with all his heart, his body, and his soul.

He let his hands trail to her skirts, and he slid them up her legs, exposing her silk stockings.

He placed his hand between her thighs and found himself rather thankful for the way garments were designed. He loved the fact that it was so easy to reach her sex.

She startled as he slipped his hand into the juncture of her thighs.

She sucked in a breath. “What are you doing?”

“Touching what is mine,” he replied.

She glanced over his shoulder. “But surely we will be discovered.”

He shook his head. “No, we won’t.”

“This is a scandal,” she breathed.

“It is,” he replied, smiling. “Isn’t it wonderful to be a Briarwood?”

“I’m not a Briarwood yet,” she replied.

He held her gaze then. “You might as well be,” he said. And with that, he slipped his fingers into her folds and found that spot she loved so very well.

She bit her lip, and her hips undulated.

Pure pleasure coursed through him at how he’d found that place that gave her bliss. He circled and teased her. How he loved the feel of her wet, slick sex under his touch.

This was what he wanted to give her. Pleasure over and over again.

She held onto him tightly, her eyes growing wild. This was what he had waited for his whole life. Not just a quick interaction in a theater hiding place. No, her. He had waited his whole life for her. He had waited his whole life to make her feel as if she was the center of the universe, because she was to him.

He took her mouth again. That kiss stole them both up into a storm of passion and need.

Relentlessly, he circled his fingers over her, unyielding. More than his own pleasure, he wanted this. He wanted her to think only of him.

He longed for her to give herself over to this, and he wanted her to know that it was he who had given it to her.

Suddenly, her body arched against him, and he felt her release beneath his thumb as she was thrown into that magical place.

She held on to him with all of her might. Achilles did not stop circling and stroking until he had wrung every last bit of bliss out of her, every last moment of pleasure.

Aurelia stood with shaking legs in his embrace. “What have you done to me?” she whispered.

He smiled. “I have loved you,” he said.

She gazed up at him, her eyes full of emotion. “I didn’t know it could be like this,” she whispered.

“It will always be like this,” he growled.

He would make certain of it.