Page 4 of The Duke's Sister's Absolutely Excellent Engagement (The Notorious Briarwoods Book 11)

M argery paced the beautifully appointed long salon, shaking her hands and trying to make herself composed again. She was not succeeding.

How she adored Lord Huxton! Adored. It was a ridiculous word. She loved him. There was no getting around it. How he made her feel was wonderful. And the fact that she had abandoned him so quickly when he’d asked her to teach him to dance the way he hoped?

It sent the most terrible waves of apprehension through her.

She forced herself to stop in the center of the long room, with its elaborate ceiling and striped silk furnishings, and draw in a breath through her nose. But it went out so shakily, she was forced to start pacing again.

What a fool she had been. She had missed her opportunity to be in his arms, to dance with him outside in the beautiful garden, in the summer air with the scent of flowers wafting around them.

Surely, that was every girl’s secret wish. To be in Nestor Briarwood’s arms with flower petals floating about like in a dream.

In theory, she had never experienced anything so romantic in her life. It didn’t matter that he didn’t think of her that way. Of course he didn’t. No gentleman like Nestor would ever think of her in such romantic tones.

She was for practical, powerful, important things. Not romance.

She had high hopes for a man with a title and an extensive fortune and a lot of land. A man who wasn’t terrible.

It was the most she hoped for, though her brother, Rufus, was encouraging her to pick a man she liked or to delay marriage until she did. She appreciated this, but she’d never find the love that Rufus had with Portia.

Their mother had removed it from her, like a surgeon with a blade.

Except… Except once upon a time, when she had come to Heron House, the Briarwood family had urged her to envision the sort of man that she actually wanted. And when she had cited all the details of what she secretly longed for, she had cited all of Lord Huxton’s characteristics. That was the truth of it.

It was as if she had painted him out of the air.

To their credit, they had not laughed at her, though it was astonishing to think that she could have someone like that. Perhaps she could in her dreams. And oh, how she had dreamed of him every night. It was ridiculous.

“My dear?” a voice said from the doorway. “You look most pensive.”

She jumped and spotted Lord Huxton’s grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Westleigh.

“Oh, forgive me, Your Grace. I was lost in thought.”

“You didn’t appear lost,” the dowager replied ruefully, lace dripping from her cuffs as she gestured towards her. “You seemed most driven. You’ve been wearing a hole in the carpet pacing up and down.”

“Have I?” she exclaimed. “Do forgive me. I…”

“No, my dear. No,” the dowager tsked. “We don’t need to forgive you for anything. As a matter of fact, I like seeing so much emotion in you, even if it is agitation. I fear that you often suppress it. And you know, my dear, that will make you quite ill.”

“Will it?” she gasped, folding her hands together, worrying them slightly. “I was always told by my governess and my mama how incredibly important it was to be composed at all times.”

“Ha!” the dowager exclaimed, all but sailing towards her, her gorgeous gown shimmering a cool mint green in the summer air drifting through the house. Warm light poured through the tall paned windows, causing the dowager’s jewels and silver hair to glow. “I knew your mother. Bless her. She was not a very happy person, and all that suppression of emotion did the most terrible things to her countenance. It often looked as if she had been sucking upon lemons. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I think we should be truthful about the situation.”

Margery coughed, shocked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m sorry. Have I given you offense?”

“Oh no, not at all,” she rushed, finding the truth to be oddly refreshing. “It’s just no one has ever said such a thing about my mother, as if her… Well, as if all of her virtues were not virtues at all. But…”

The dowager let out a rather dismayed sigh. “Your mother was a martyr to your father. She did everything she could to please him and failed every day because your father could not be pleased.”

She blinked. “You really are quite blunt, Your Grace.”

“I know. It is one of the greatest attributes of being a dowager duchess. A woman of my advanced years, having grown up in the East End, and, of course, having married the man that I did, made it possible to be… Well, me. My husband, the duke, adored me just the way I am and asked of me that I stay the way I am.” She gave a little shrug of her shoulder as her lips curved in a smile. “So I am blunt. I speak the truth, and I revel in my own personality.”

The dowager duchess did revel in her own personality, and everyone seemed to adore her for it.

So why couldn’t Margery? The truth was she didn’t really know who she’d be or even who she truly was. She closed her eyes for a moment, and for that single moment, she recalled the ballet, the dancers, and their beautiful costumes as they traced gracefully across the stage. Oh, how that had transformed her and made her so happy. She’d longed to appear as if she was floating through the air too.

“My dear, where have you gone?”

She shook her head. “Oh, forgive me. I… Well, I was recalling a memory, you see.”

“It appeared to be a pleasant one.”

“It was a pleasant one,” Margery admitted.

The dowager cocked her elaborately coiffed head to the side. “And what was it?”

“Do you mind if I don’t tell you? Part of the memory… What happened later was not pleasant.”

“Of course you don’t have to tell me, but I think that your brother has done such a wonderful job of letting go of the past that it is time you do the same.”

“I thought I had,” she said softly, her heart sinking.

The dowager duchess tsked. “Oh no, my dear. You’ve just begun your journey there, and that’s quite all right. We can’t do it all at once, you know? Or can we?” the dowager duchess queried with a wicked grin as she took Margery’s hands in hers. “We are here for you. You are as one with the family.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I have felt happier here than I have in all my life.”

And it was the truth. As much as she loved her brother, Rufus, because he had done the very best he could when their parents died to give her some affection and kindness, their lives had been terribly cold and austere. It had not mattered that they’d had more wealth than anyone could ever hope to have, and more power too. They had not known how to enjoy life, and she was learning that now bit by bit, day by day.

But the truth was that her memory, that longing to dance and then the subsequent consequence of it with her governess and her mother? That was what had caused her to feel so awful when Nestor had told her he loved her passion when she danced.

Her mother had called her a liar.

Then, though teasing, Nestor had said liar … And combined with his suggestion that she danced with feeling?

She had tried so hard to eradicate any sort of feeling when she danced. Had she failed so terribly? Had she not learned her lesson?

And then it suddenly occurred to her that if she had not learned it, that was a good thing.

Margery lifted her chin. Her mother and her governess had not crushed her spirit.

“Oh, good heaven,” the dowager exclaimed, squeezing Margery’s hands. “My dear, in but moments, you have had quite a transformation. Your face! You have gone from looking quite aghast to suddenly looking as if you are free. Has a miracle occurred? Have you let go of the past in an instant? Most never can, but are you freeing yourself?”

“I don’t know,” she rushed simply. “But the truth is I realized something.”

“And what is that?”

Margery swallowed, then gathered her courage. “I should like to learn how to dance.”

The dowager duchess laughed. “My dear, you dance beautifully.”

“Thank you. That is what Lord Huxton told me.”

“Did he?” the dowager duchess asked, her eyes twinkling.

“Yes, but then he suggested that I danced with passion, and it made me feel terrible.”

“Oh dear. Why ever so?”

She huffed out a breath and pulled her hands back gently. “Because ladies like myself are not supposed to feel emotion or passion when they dance. We are supposed to be quite methodical and feel nothing.”

“Ridiculous,” the dowager duchess said.

Margery squared her shoulders. “I agree. I will not allow my mother nor my governess to control me anymore.”

“My dear, I salute you,” crowed the dowager. “Living with us Briarwoods has truly unleashed something in you. We shall engage a dancing master at once, though I think you could teach him.”

“Not just any sort of dancing master,” she blurted.

“Oh?” the dowager duchess asked, her brows rising.

“A ballet dancer.”

The dowager duchess coughed. “A ballet dancer?”

“Yes, please.”

“Of course,” the dowager duchess said without hesitation. “I think it’s an excellent idea. Perhaps the whole family shall take up ballet. After all, the vast majority of us already put on performances of Shakespeare. Why not add a bit of ballet? Versailles adored it. Though I confess, I do sometimes find some of the rather slow movements slightly boring. What with my attention? I must be distracted quite frequently.”

Margery let out a laugh. “Well, then we shall just have to wear excellent costumes. And they shall keep you present.”

The dowager duchess cocked her head to the side. “My dear, better and better. You are very wise. I adore this for you. Ballet dancers must have had a very profound impact on you. We English do not hold it in as high esteem as the French court did.”

“I saw a performance at an exiled princess’s house once, and it made me happier than I have ever known. And when I was small, dancing made me happier than anything else. But then I had to push it all aside, and Nestor, well, he made me feel…”

“Yes?” the dowager prompted.

“It doesn’t matter. He is not looking for a wife,” she said quickly. “I know you’ll find me a very good husband this Season. I’m very, very grateful for it.”

The dowager duchess looked at her for a long moment as if she wished to say something, but she did not. And then, after a moment, she said, “My dear, I shall find you exactly who you require. As a matter of fact, the whole family will.”

She sucked in a breath. “I’m so grateful to have you.”

The dowager duchess linked arms with her. “I’m grateful to have you, my dear. As a matter of fact, so grateful that I don’t think I’m ever going to let you go.”

Margery let out a laugh. “You shall have to. I shall have to marry one day.”

The duchess smiled a smile that showed the beauty of her heart and the mischief of her soul. “Yes, you shall.”