Page 15 of The Duchess’s Absolutely Delightful Dream (The Notorious Briarwoods #14)

“A re we going to have to pull a dramatic escape?” Laertes drawled, getting ready to shoot a ball across the billiards table.

In the vast castle, one might even dare say palace, of the Duke of Rossbrea, there was every amenity that anyone could ever possibly wish to have.

It might be argued that it was far better than any English great house or castle for beauty or for entertainment. There were music rooms, salons, billiards rooms, dancing rooms, and a library that stretched over half the castle.

Yes, it was a place of bliss, but the tension in the billiards room at present was palpable.

Octavian stared at the green felt, lifted his gaze to his cousin’s, grated his teeth, and said, “Quite honestly, I don’t know.”

Deimos gave him a leery look. “That’s not the sort of thing that we wish to hear, old boy.

It’s not exactly a quick jaunt down the main road, now is it?

We’re up in the bloody northernmost corner of this island, and they could harry us down all the way to the border.

They’ve quite a history of it. We’re not in the best position to get you out of here if the lot of them decide you’ve played too nice with the sister. That said—”

“We will do whatever is needed to get you out of any difficult situation; namely, the brothers,” Perseus announced as he leaned against the billiards table.

“The Scots,” added Laertes. “I like the Scots. But they’re a whole different game than irritated Englishmen.”

“We all like the Scots,” Deimos said.

“Exactly. They’re just like us, actually, with slightly more colorful accents. And they’re ever so slightly taller,” Laertes admitted with a grin.

“They also have bigger tempers,” mused Perseus, as if he was looking forward to seeing those tempers.

“That never stopped us before,” Octavian drawled, glad that his cousins were taking his escapades with good, if wary, humor.

“Too true, but you don’t seem to know which way the wind is blowing, and honestly, that’s what’s making us nervous,” Laertes confessed.

“What do you mean, ‘which way the wind is blowing’?” Octavian demanded as he took up a billiards queue and considered what he might do with it if Laertes continued this particular line.

The fellow may have done an excellent job at Eton, and was currently at Oxford, but that didn’t mean he had the right to use such nefarious logic upon Octavian.

“It’s clear to everyone in this castle that you and the young widowed duchess get on quite well.”

“Yes, of course we do,” he defended. “That is what was wanted. She is coming out of a long period of mourning, and she needed a suitor to show her there is more to life than simply living up here in the Highlands and being in a castle. And—”

“Yes, yes,” Laertes cut in. “We understand. The Duke of Rossbrea and his brothers wanted you to make her happy, but we are now beginning to be concerned about what’s going to happen when you leave.

Do you think she will still be happy when you leave?

Are you planning on taking up some vast correspondence between the two of you? ”

“Yes,” Deimos added practically. “The sort of acquaintance that in twenty to thirty years’ time will make an excellent novel.”

Perseus gave a shudder. “We’re going to have to burn all of our family papers.”

“Never in a month of Sundays,” Laertes declared. “Grandmama would be horrified at the idea of burning anything that we have committed to paper. We want generations in the future to know how wild we are, so they feel free to do the same.”

Deimos grinned. “That’s just incentive to act a wee bit madder, isn’t it? Right. So tell us what we need to do. What’s the battle plan? Are you taking her with you? Are you going to stay here? Are you going to marry her?”

“No marriage,” he gritted.

“You act as if that word is a poison, like it could make you sick,” Deimos mused, stroking his jawline.

“It could,” Octavian retorted sharply, hoping to shut down this nonsense. “It could absolutely make me sick. Do you understand the sort of guilt that I would have, going to sleep every night, knowing that I could be killed on the battlefield? My wife would be left behind.”

“Yes, boo-hoo,” Laertes said, examining his nails with affected attention.

“Oh, the horror. The widowed duchess would be left behind in poverty here in the Highlands. In her castle. With a host of family and friends that has only expanded with the Briarwoods. And her stacks and stacks of gold coins. My heart weeps for agony.”

“Stop that,” Octavian growled. “You make a fair point though. It’s not as if she would be entirely on her own if I was to shuffle off this mortal coil,” he found himself saying, much to his horror. He quickly shoved aside the conciliatory thought. “But that doesn’t really make it better, does it?”

“It should,” Deimos said. “Besides, what Briarwood has an unhappy marriage? None of us. All evidence points to marriage as medicine. Not poison.”

“Are you getting married then?” Octavian challenged.

Deimos coughed. “Yes. Of course. In a decade. One needn’t take medicine too soon.”

Octavian considered the gist of the conversation. Maybe they were right. Maybe he should think differently. Maybe he should just throw all his principles and ideals away and ask her to marry him.

But he knew that he couldn’t.

It didn’t matter if it was rational. It didn’t matter if it made sense or not.

The knot in his gut would not unwind. The number of letters that he had sent telling people that their loved ones would not come back had done something to him.

It was one of the most precious and hard parts of being an officer.

The amount of pain that he might feel, wondering every day if he would ever see the woman he loved again… He couldn’t bear that.

And that’s when he knew, dear God, this fear was selfish. It had very little to do with her.

Laertes gave him a knowing look, arching his brow. “Yes, it’s all about you, isn’t it? You naughty bugger.”

Octavian ground his teeth. “Is it so obvious?”

He hated the way that Briarwoods could see through each other with such ease. It made keeping feelings private all but impossible.

“Yes. The insides of your brain move about like cogs and wheels that we can all see,” Laertes stated. “I’m glad you finally are coming to understand the reality of your situation.”

He wished his cousin Calchas was here. But Calchas was at war, captaining his ship. Calchas would understand.

Octavian blew out a long breath. “I can’t do it,” he said. “Maybe when the war is done, I can come back and face it. I could ask her then,” he said.

“Oh, if no one’s had her first,” Perseus pointed out cooly.

“Why in God’s name would you say that?” Octavian demanded.

“Why in God’s name would he not?” Deimos pointed out, leaning on his billiards cue. “She’s beautiful. She has money. She’s got land. She’s connected to a powerful family. Though her family is really quite something. Can you imagine celebrating Christmas with them?”

“Oh, I can,” Laertes said brightly. “I think it’d be great fun. Imagine the sort of antics the lot of us could get up to.”

Octavian blew out a long breath.

Oh, how he dearly loved his cousins. He had spent his entire life with them quite close, and now they were even closer here in Scotland as they were putting on his grandmother’s production.

“Grandmama will be calling us at any moment,” he said swiftly, deciding against the billiards queue as a club against his cousins.

“Then we best go,” said Laertes. “We mustn’t keep the ladies waiting.”

There were not really many ladies for Laertes, Deimos, and Perseus to admire, but it was great fun watching Anne, Josephine, and Emily trot about the Highlanders and make them do exactly as they pleased.

They were great big, burly men who clearly knew how to give as good as they got, but they seemed utterly captivated by the young Briarwood ladies. And the ladies were quite intrigued by them.

There was something about this place. There was no questioning it.

There was almost a whisper in the air, which made one wish to give in and simply do the impossible.

This place made him feel as if anything was possible, and that felt damn dangerous, because he knew that that wasn’t true.

There were limitations, there were rules, and there was cause and effect.

Consequences occurred after the actions of one’s choosing.

They headed down the hallway, going out towards the back of the castle.

Grandmama had decided that an outdoor production was the only thing possible, given the beauty of the Scottish Highland summers, though sometimes the bugs were really quite determined.

Still, it was worth it.

As they headed out onto the graveled area of the garden, his grandmama was already at work. She was putting the Scots through their paces. They were not cast as the lovers. No, they were cast as the comedic relief.

Their height and good looks only made this more hilarious.

He knew that his grandmother was up to something with regards to himself because he had been cast as the fool and not the male love interest.

Usually, when she was maneuvering people, that’s what she would have done. But she had switched tactics, and he wondered what exactly she was trying to teach him.

He knew all the parts by heart. So this felt very much on purpose.

Pretty much every single Briarwood knew all of the parts by heart in every play.

Despite his casting as the fool, this time felt different. There was something about putting on the play here, at the castle, by the water, and he enjoyed watching the beautiful, gorgeous Ellie make merry with his cousins.

Their antics made him laugh, and he wanted to laugh. He needed to laugh. Oh, he had made banter for years, and he’d occasionally let out booming laughter with his cousins.

The whole ordeal with the Duke of Baxter and his darling cousin, Cymbeline, had recently lifted his spirits and made him hope that there might be a bit more to this world than all he had committed himself to.

But as he came out onto the lawn and spotted the young ladies dancing about, reciting their lines together, he felt his heart—his dratted heart—do something that it had never ever done until he had come here.

He felt it expand. He felt it ease. He felt it release, as if just being here with Ellie was the only balm he’d ever need.

As if his heart was ready to heal. But he was not ready to heal. He could not be ready to heal. There was too much to be done. There were battles still to fight. There were young men to get into shape to march across a field and face the enemy.

He could not be soft for that.

He could not give in to love for that. For all his protestation that he could not leave his wife behind, as he stood out here by the castle, with his family and his newfound friends, making merry and living, he knew it was all about him, and how he had to keep himself hard.

So very hard, lest he break.