Page 19 of The Duke’s Absolutely Fantastic Fling (The Notorious Briarwoods #15)

T he knock on the door startled them both.

In all of the time that Teague had spent in her bedchamber, no one had ever bothered them. So when the door rattled again as someone knocked gently, he swung his gaze to look at it, then looked back at her.

“What are we to do?” he whispered.

She gave him an amused grin as the interruption seemed to startle her out of her fears. “I don’t know. Should we tell them about the upcoming wedding?”

He laughed, his heart both full of joy and worry for her.

“Come on out, Your Grace,” a voice drawled on the other side. “The reckoning has come. You have been summoned.”

He tensed. “Hell, it’s for me ,” he said. “I thought perhaps someone was looking for you as it is your bedchamber.”

“It seems not,” she said. “Would you like me to go and defend your honor for you?”

“Never, lass,” he declared. “I am a full-grown man as you can see.”

And with that, he climbed off the bed and began hauling on his clothes because he wasn’t about to go downstairs in Heron House completely undressed. Parading himself before the men of the family seemed a bad decision.

“Hurry up,” the voice called from the other side.

Dressed in but a few moments, he crossed to the door and looked back over his shoulder. “Can I tell them?”

She smiled, a sight of pure beauty as she sat in her night rail, which bared one shoulder, her hair tumbling down her back. “Yes. Good luck.”

“Thank you, milady,” he said with a grand bow. But then he could not leave her, no matter the cause, just like that.

So, he charged over to the bed, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her one last time before he went to face her family and let them know the news.

“I’m so grateful that you are going to be mine,” he said.

“I think I was yours the moment I stepped foot on your estate in Scotland,” she said.

“So do I,” he returned. And with that, he slipped away from her, headed to the door, and opened it. It didn’t surprise him to find Calchas Briarwood on the other side.

The group of male cousins and uncles behind him were a surprise. “Hello gentlemen,” he said. “Lead on.”

Calchas stepped back, gestured for him to take the lead, and Teague did so. After all, he was a duke. That’s what dukes did. But he only got so far before he stopped and said, “I’m not entirely certain where you’d like me to go.”

There was a laugh that came up from Laertes and Deimos, the two cousins who had been in Scotland with him.

“Well said,” Ajax said. “You know that none of us really know where we are going in this life.”

“It’s all a mystery,” added Hector.

“An adventure,” added Zephyr.

Calchas snorted. “Keep going down the stairs and then turn to your left. Your judge and jury are awaiting you.”

“Aren’t you my judge and jury?” he teased.

“Oh, no,” Ajax declared as they started downward.

“Various members of the Briarwood family always serve as judge and jury to the gentleman who comes into our family,” said Laertes.

Hector grinned. “But it’s not us today.”

“I see,” he breathed, glad he was not easily overwhelmed. For the Briarwoods could be overwhelming, though always good-hearted.

As they descended the stairs deeper into the house, he was certain that it was going to be Leander or the dowager duchess, the general leaders of the family, whom he would face.

But when he was brought into the study, he stopped.

There stood a gentleman about forty-some years of age, with a handsome face. But it was lined as if he had seen many things in the world that had caused him to age.

A traveling cloak had been placed on a leather chair before the fire.

Having arrived, no doubt some minutes ago, the man clearly had not waited to summon Teague.

The fellow was still striking, but as he stood there before the fire, leaning against the mantel, waiting like a devil might for the souls to come down to his realm, Teague felt a wave of apprehension.

“Welcome,” the man said, his voice low.

He had seen this man before, of course. He’d also written to him the moment he had asked Josephine for her hand. And the letter had gone out to Europe in search of the renowned man who did good work wherever he went.

It was Lord Achilles Briarwood. Josephine’s father.

The man had not written back. And Teague had assumed that he had written to the Duke of Westleigh instead.

After all, it had been the Duke of Wesleigh from whom he’d requested permission to ask for Josephine’s hand in marriage. He’d also had the support of Ajax, Hector, and Zephyr to pursue her.

Suddenly, he wondered if he had made terrible assumptions. Would Achilles be furious with him? He wondered if he had made a serious mistake by not searching him out, somewhere on the Continent, and asking for the man’s permission to marry his daughter in person.

But no, he refused to believe he had done anything wrong in this regard. Teague had been completely honest with her family.

“Come closer,” Achilles urged.

And he did, stopping before him.

Teague cleared his throat and ventured, “I think you must be aware, or at least I hope you are aware, of the plan that your brothers suggested I partake in. I asked your daughter to marry me and she agreed some weeks ago.”

“With conditions?” Lord Achilles mused.

Teague nodded, feeling on uneven ground. “Yes, but this evening she has rescinded those conditions. It is already almost the end of the Season, and she has agreed with a full heart to be my wife, my duchess.”

“And you are certain that she truly wishes that?” Lord Achilles queried with surprising coolness.

He frowned. “Of course, I am.”

Achilles studied him. “You are certain that she’s suited to be a duchess.”

“Again, of course,” he replied.

Achilles’ brow furrowed. “Truly, have you thought about this beyond your own desires for her?”

“What do you mean?” he gritted, stunned. He’d never ever been accused of being selfish before, and surely that was what Achilles was doing.

Achilles paused and then began steadily, “Josephine is one of the most remarkable women that I know. She’s my daughter, and I love her.

And so, it is my duty to ensure that she has a happy future.

And unlike my brothers here, who vouch for you, I am not entirely certain that you are the man to give it to her.

You have a good reputation, and I have always held you in high regard.

My family seems to adore you. But I do not think that you have really given this thought. ”

“I would die for her,” he gritted. “I would do anything for her.”

“Yes, but would you do what’s best for her?” Lord Achilles demanded.

The tone of the room crackled as Achilles’ brothers and nephews watched, like observers at a medieval joust, waiting to see who might be struck down.

He tensed. “Could there be a better life than that of a duchess?” he asked.

“Yes,” Achilles said. “For someone like Josephine.”

There it was. Someone like Josephine. What did this phrase mean? It was not the first time that he had heard this in regard to her.

Achilles paused, then said, “My mother told me something that was said at the theater.”

“Oh?” he queried, stunned, for he had thought the dowager was on his side.

“You suggested that Josephine become a writer. Someone who writes up their thoughts on plays.” Achilles lips curved then, slowly, warmly. “And I actually think that was completely brilliant. Spot on about her, if you will.”

A wave of relief crashed over Teague. Achilles was about to relent.

But then her father added, “ She told you something, and what was it? Do you recall?”

He tensed, thinking back. “Yes, I do, Achilles,” he said.

“And what was it?”

He ground his teeth as he realized the import of these words to her father. “That she did not like to be observed. And that was why she did not wish to be an actress.”

Achilles folded his strong arms over his broad chest. “Exactly so. Now might I ask what the position of a duchess is in our society? Is she someone who can be apart from society or is she observed?”

“Observed,” he ground out, fearing where this might be going.

It felt as if the floor was opening underneath his feet and his gut dropped. “I don’t understand. Your brothers have all given their support for this marriage. Are you telling me that you’ll forbid it?”

“No,” Achilles said swiftly. “No one in this family forbids anyone anything. That would be a very foolish thing indeed. But I will not have you go into this marriage without considering the very dire actions that could occur as a result. There’s a reason why she’s been afraid of late.

She doesn’t even understand it, I think, herself.

Yes, she wants to marry you. She’s in love with you.

Any fool can see that. Her letters to me have been full of your praises. ”

He did not know if his heart should burst at knowing that Achilles saw that his daughter was in love with him, or whether he should despair, hearing the difficulties that were now being interjected into their love.

“But there is no getting around what happened to her as a child,” Achilles whispered. “And you expect her to be a great duchess like my mother or several other ladies in this family, who have taken up the position of duchess to great houses in this land.”

“Don’t you think she’s capable of it?” Teague confronted. “She’s the strongest woman I know.”

“She is,” Achilles agreed. “But do you know how my wife and I found her?”

He swallowed, the room tightening with friction. “I do not.”

Achilles’ eyes filled with dark memories. “She was quite small. She was not yet five years of age when we found her. Her parents had died. We’re not entirely certain when or how long she had been alone, but they had died of disease, we think, contracted while escaping Napoleon’s armies.”

Achilles drew in a breath, his voice deep now with his helplessness and sorrow.

“From what we were able to piece together, Josephine stayed with the bodies of her parents for as long as possible in an encampment by a river. There had been several refugees fleeing before the armies, and that horror is one that none of us can ever truly understand. But she must have realized, at some point, that she needed food and her parents were dead and would not be able to secure it for her. So she left them and wandered the countryside. She slept alone, cold, without sustenance. She dared to drink from streams. Luckily, she did not contract any illnesses. She stumbled into the edge of a town where my wife and I were staying. Thank God it was us who found her. And do you know what she was doing when we found her?”

His stomach churned as he thought of Josephine’s suffering and how much she had overcome. “What?” he asked.

Achilles’ eyes shone with tears. He was a large, powerful man, but the memories of his adopted child’s harrowing state clearly still caused him agony.

“She was eating rotten food. She was desperate. She had not bathed in some time. She had had no affection, no love, no care. And when we tried to care for her, she resisted at first, insisting that she had to go back to her parents to take care of them, to bring them food, as if they were still somehow alive. But of course, they were not.”

He wanted to fall to his knees. He wanted to rail at the heavens. But he also felt awe. Awe for his beautiful Josephine, who had survived all of that. And he also felt awe for the Briarwoods, who had not stood by and left her to a terrible fate.

“What do you wish me to do?” he asked at last.

“After hearing this, what do you wish to do?” Achilles challenged.

He folded his hands into fists. “I wish the wars to end, so no more children suffer such a fate. But as to the woman I love? I will support her, love her, and stand by her…in whatever way she wants. She is the love of my life, Achilles. And I will fight for her and whatever path she wishes to walk to the end of my days.”

A collective smile of relief went up from the men in the room.

Achilles smiled and held out his hand. “That was all I needed to hear. And I will be honored to call you my son too.”

Teague took his future father’s hand, knowing he had chosen the only thing he ever could. It had been easy. Because he had chosen Josephine.