Page 2 of The Duke’s Absolutely Fantastic Fling (The Notorious Briarwoods #15)

M iss Josephine Briarwood had not been born a Briarwood.

No. She had become one. Though she wouldn’t recommend the method in which she had become one, she really rather wished that everyone could have the opportunity to be a Briarwood.

She supposed there were other lovely families in England, though lovely really did not describe the Briarwood group.

They were fiery, passionate, determined, unstoppable, and of course, notorious, though some might have argued that the notoriety of the Briarwoods had dimmed a little bit in the last years. Frankly, she could not agree.

The way she saw society and its boring march, she knew that the Briarwoods, though they might have mellowed a little bit, were still doing things in a way that most of society could never imagine.

And she? She was so grateful to be a part of it, for as she stood here on the edge of the Heron House ballroom floor, looking out at the vast crowd of people in silks, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, lace, and embroidery that was fit for a queen, she felt as if she belonged.

She had no doubts about it.

Perhaps other people of the aristocracy in London might think she did not. As a matter of fact, sometimes she did hear whispers about those children, the children who had not been born Briarwoods, the children who were not blood relations of the Duke of Westleigh.

But whenever she heard things like that, she laughed.

Because unlike those poor dears who barely clung to any sort of self-purpose or self-love in a society that was quick to cut anyone down who stepped out of line, she had had the benefit of the Dowager Duchess of Westleigh, her aunts and uncles, and her adoptive mother and father to take her in hand and make certain she knew her worth.

And of course, the fact that the very first Duke of Westleigh had been born the bastard son of a wild, wonderful, wicked courtesan reminded her that blood had nothing to do with greatness.

Yes, the first infamous Briarwoods had come from nothing.

So had Josephine. She was in excellent company, and her adoptive family had made certain that she knew it.

None of the Briarwood children who had been adopted, as far as she could tell, had any doubts about this, for they had been folded in so intensely that they were seamlessly one family.

It was a blessing that words could not describe.

At present, her adoptive sisters, Anne and Emily, were at her side, each of them in a gown that was simple yet striking.

They were ready, knowing that as Briarwoods they would be asked to dance, but also understanding that despite their large dowries, the gentlemen of the first families might not come over to pursue them.

In truth, Josephine was rather glad. She had no desire to be a member of most of those first families. As far as she could surmise, those first families, which had been around for hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of years, had lost any hint of anything interesting about them.

And she knew that she was going to have an interesting life. She saw herself far more akin to that first Briarwood woman who had seized fate and won a dukedom for her son than any other lady alive at present.

Oh, she would not go and become a courtesan.

She couldn’t do that to her adoptive parents, though she knew if she did, they would still love her.

Bless them. She simply knew she was going to live life without apology and as if every moment could be seized from her. She knew exactly how precious it was.

Tonight, the music was divine. This was another thing about the Briarwood balls that she truly appreciated. Whenever they hosted a ball, she got to hear the most exquisite sounds ring out from the most expensive instruments.

And presently, she was cradled in the beautiful notes of a waltz.

She adored the waltz.

Who didn’t?

But no one had come to ask her to dance as of yet. Emily and Anne bounced beside her, swaying slightly side to side, waiting to see who would finally dare. Her male cousins were all out on the floor doing their duty. And of course, her aunts and uncles were upon the floor too.

How she loved to see those married couples take up space and make it clear that the very best people in the world were the Briarwoods, not because they were beautiful, though most of them were physically beautiful, but because they had spirits that made every light in the room seem sad and weak in comparison to their shining, bold souls.

She let her gaze trail over the crowd, drinking in the exciting atmosphere.

“I would dearly love to dance,” Emily said finally, her brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Why do people have to be so ridiculous?”

Anne snorted. “You already know the answer to that. People are ridiculous. That is why we have such a good time observing them.”

Emily laughed. Emily and Anne spent a great deal of time writing side by side in the late hours. Josephine had a rather sneaking suspicion that they were currently writing a play together, but the two of them had not told anyone.

Josephine could not blame them. After all, if they did tell the family, their grandmother would wish to stage the work during one of their evening sessions of theater-making. And sometimes when one was in the middle of creation, one did not wish to share it.

It was at that particular moment, when she was rather certain that, if she was lucky, some banker or philosopher would cross the room and dare to ask her to dance, that there was a loud bang.

A call rang out that the Duke of Rossbrea and his brothers, Lord Archibald, Lord Leith, and Lord Brodie, had arrived.

The room all but stopped, not because the music had ceased, but because the men who filled the entryway were so tall, so perfect in their builds, and so glorious in their personas that everyone collectively lost their breath.

Josephine did not. For she knew, as did Anne and Emily, how to make these lads dance.

But oh, how she had missed him ! So the smile that began to tug at her lips was full. She was undeniably excited. And her heart? Her heart began to do a dance of its own.

For when she was in the Duke of Rossbrea’s presence, she felt completely and totally alive. How she’d hated to have to leave him and Scotland. But she had had to leave him and return to London with her family.

She’d been tempted to write him, of course, but she knew in her heart that it was a bad idea. And she did not generally pursue bad ideas. Wicked ones, perhaps. Mischievous ones, certainly. But bad ideas, no.

Josephine would never be such a fool as to take part in those.

So here, standing along the wall, not quite a wallflower nor a diamond, she could not stop herself from beaming.

Emily prodded her with her elbow. “Can you believe it?”

“Why do you think they’ve come?” Anne asked, her cheeks brightening with anticipation.

Emily winked. “You know why. He’s come to ask Josephine to marry him.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Josephine whispered, even as her entire body tingled. “He’s not going to ask me to marry him.”

“Yes, he is,” Anne countered. “Look.”

And she did.

The duke had found her.

Somehow, through the thick crowd, the Duke of Rossbrea’s eyes had spotted hers. And the moment their gazes met, dear God, her smile became so bright and intense it almost hurt her cheeks.

Her spirit began to lift and soar, and she felt as if her chest was expanding. She did not need to breathe. Who needed to breathe when the Duke of Rossbrea was nigh? Even so, her excitement was touched with a hint of dismay.

Alas, she knew she could not be a duchess.

She was not born to such things, nor did she wish to have those sorts of responsibilities.

And besides, she did not wish to make the Highlands her permanent home, as beautiful as they were.

She knew what it was like to have to leave a homeland. She had no wish to have to do so again.

She wanted to stay close to the bosom of her family, the Briarwoods, until she died. Oh, she might travel the world one day, but she knew her home in England would always be waiting for her. She did not know if she could tear herself away from a home forever again.

She also had every intention to live in a way that most dukes would not approve of.

She was lucky to be alive. And she wasn’t going to throw any of that away for a duchess’s coronet and the rules that it brought. Though…it was true some dukes, like the ones around the Briarwood family, did allow their ladies to do as they wished.

She wasn’t certain Rossbrea would be the same. There was something about him that seemed to long for the ways of old.

But all of those things could be overcome. Many of her family had overcome such things or similar things. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the deep feeling inside her that told her she should not tell him yes. If he did ask, that was.

It was strange, that powerful feeling taking over as she looked at him, but it was truly why she had not written to him when she’d come back to London. The Briarwoods had taught her that any obstacle could be overcome, but she could not ignore her own inner voice.

Still, she could not ignore the way Rossbrea made her feel as he began to cross the long ballroom.

Despite the fact that the waltz was still playing, the ton gaped, their necks turned, their eyes bulging at the sight of the magnificent group of men who were cutting through the room as if the crush were naught but sheep. As if the ton was nothing at all and absolutely should make way for them.

Then a buzz of gossip began to fill the air as the duke stopped before her.

“Miss Josephine,” he said softly.

She gave a dutifully deep curtsy. “Your Grace,” she replied with a merry glint to her eye.

They had climbed bens together. They had played golf together. They had had many a merry conversation. And this formal meeting felt so strange, but it was heaven at the same time.

“Might I have your hand for this dance?” he asked.

“Of course you may,” she said. What was the point in saying anything else? She longed to dance, he’d asked, and she knew that he was skilled at moving about the floor.

And as she put her hand in his big one, she swallowed at the delicious feel of it.

Quickly, Rossbrea took her out onto the highly polished floor.

The eyes of the ton followed their every move.

And as they waited for the new song to begin. She gasped. Another waltz!

As the sweeping music surrounded them, he smiled slowly. “Let’s see if I can make you turn,” he teased.

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” she teased right back, a laugh tumbling from her lips. For she had missed how light he made her feel.

In that moment, she felt relief. She had not realized how much she had missed him since having to depart the Highlands, how much she had longed to be in his presence, how she had found such joy with him.

He took her in his arms, then, far too easily, they moved as one.