Page 22 of The Duke’s Absolutely Fantastic Fling (The Notorious Briarwoods #15)

T he frightening attacks had not altogether stopped, but once she had realized she was not going to have to give up living with her family most of the year, they had begun to subside.

She’d also begun to understand that she could not control the attacks.

Her fears that one day he might be taken from her?

Well, she simply had to let those pass through her head.

For the more she resisted terrible thoughts, the more they grew.

So, she turned her thoughts to wonderful things when she could.

It was as if the frightened little girl inside her had realized that she was not being thrust back out into a brutal world without the care and love of the people who had guided her for so long. And she’d accepted that not only did she have her family, she had his family too.

And the world they were healing together.

She was so blessed, beyond blessed, and as she stood at the top of the stairs in the estate next to Heron House, her beautiful new gown of ruby silk skimming her body, she gazed down at her waiting husband.

Good heavens, he was handsome in his black evening kit that hugged his rugged frame to perfection.

And he looked at home in the beautiful foyer, one hand resting on the carved balustrade.

They had redecorated the house, and it was now as beautiful as Heron House, filled with the latest artwork and statues from Europe. Their house would be one of culture and learning and beauty. A jewel for people to come and learn and discuss new ideas.

They would be a light in a world that was trying to yield to the dark.

Slowly, she placed a hand on the banister and made her way down. She loved the bright, strong colors she was now permitted to wear as a married woman, and she loved how her husband looked up at her.

His face was alight with love and approval. “My God, woman,” he growled. You are a goddess in human form. I don’t know if I should show you off or take you back upstairs.”

“Why, thank you, Your Grace,” she said, giving him a curtsy as she took the last step.

She rather liked the idea of him hauling her back upstairs and stripping her gown off. But she had something to do tonight and it required leaving the house.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Indeed.”

“Then we must head to the theater,” he replied.

“Indeed we must,” she said playfully as he gave her his hand and she placed her snowy gloved one upon it.

Several nights of the week, he took her to a play. As was Briarwood custom, sometimes they saw the same one more than once. He did not complain. As a matter of fact, he watched more astutely than most and would often point out to her subtle nuances that even she missed.

Teague had embraced his role in the family just as she’d hoped. And he seemed happier for it, and she was happy sitting side by side with him in the theaters of London, keeping notes in a little book so that she could go home and transcribe them and write up articles.

For she had started a weekly newssheet, citing the best plays, the best actors, the most beautiful sets. She noted what was to be watched, what was to be avoided, and what could be hoped for.

Tonight, they were off to see the restaging of a Sheridan play, a social satire that no doubt would be full of scathing humor and flamboyant costumes.

Her Aunt Estella had proved vital in assisting her, and Josephine now often did stories about the various actors and writers that filled the London theater scene too.

Josephine’s life was consumed with creation, and she was no longer on the brink of fear all of the time. So, as he whisked her out into the carriage and they rolled off into the night, she turned to her husband and quite boldly climbed atop his lap.

She linked her arms about his neck and gazed up at him. “Any regrets?” she asked.

“Regret,” he echoed. “What kind of question is that?”

“A reasonable one,” she replied.

“Regret is for those who wish that life was different. I could never wish anything was different, Josephine,” he said. “Every moment of every day is one that I’m grateful for because I am with you. As I was always meant to be.”

“And I,” she said, “was always meant to be with you.”

And as London neared, Josephine knew that the Briarwood blessings of finding true love would never end. And that made the world a beautiful place indeed.