Page 12 of The Rake’s Absolutely Devilish Reform (The Notorious Briarwoods #4)
“H ector is in love,” Mercy stated.
“I know. Isn’t it glorious?” her mother-in-law, the Dowager Duchess of Westleigh exclaimed, clapping her bejeweled hands together as they sat in her favorite drawing room.
Mercy let out a note of frustration. “It is not.” She could not match her mother-in-law’s enthusiasm, not after her meeting with Priscilla.
Her mother-in-law’s brows fell and her hands descended to her lap as she asked, “Why ever not? Do you not approve of the match? She is your dearest friend after all.”
“You were already aware that Hector has fallen for Lady Priscilla?” Mercy clarified, perching on her chair, wishing she had the appetite to eat one of the scrumptious cakes that Cook had provided. But she felt positively off her food at Priscilla’s predicament.
“Of course, I’m aware,” her mother-in-law said grandly. “I know all of my children, my dear. The moment I saw Hector the other morning, I knew. He had the look of a man who was standing on the edge of connubial bliss. He’s terrified, of course. I am thrilled.”
“Don’t be,” Mercy replied, hating to say it.
“Why?” the dowager duchess asked. “Do you know something about the young lady that I do not?”
“No,” she stated, folding her hands in her lap and wondering how to explain the challenge. “Well, perhaps. I don’t think Priscilla will be inclined to say yes to him.”
The dowager duchess let out a horrified gasp. “Why ever not? Hector is the most marvelous of young men.”
“Yes, of course he is. He has been a dear friend to me. But society knows him as a rake, and that is what Priscilla thinks of him.”
“Rakes make the best husbands,” the dowager duchess said. “That’s what everybody says.”
Mercy fought a groan. She adored her friend, but she was not like other young ladies of the ton. Which was, of course, why they were friends. Neither of them were what the ton considered ideal. “Yes, but Priscilla is not everybody.”
“Isn’t that heavenly?” the dowager duchess said with a whimsical sigh. “She’ll fit right in.”
“I agree with you that she will fit right in, but at present, she will not allow herself to join into our family because…well, because of her family.”
“Are they awful?” the dowager duchess asked, leaning in. Then she tsked. “We must rescue her if she’s in a terrible situation.”
“No, they’re not awful,” Mercy rushed. “That’s just it! She is devoted to them. And they to her. Her father, as I understand, is quite loving. Her mother is… Well, I’ve never met her mother. She does not venture out into society.”
The dowager frowned again. “We must sort that out. It’s not typical for a young lady to go into society with just a chaperone when her mother is alive and well.”
“They come from a different sort of family than the ones of the ton, Your Grace,” Mercy reminded.
“As do I. I love a comrade!” But then her mother-in-law frowned and nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that could make things very difficult, but we shall not yield to adversity, Mercy. If we did, you would not be married to Leander.”
Mercy smiled then and let out a laugh. “You make a good point.”
“I all but had to convince you to marry my son,” her mother-in-law reminded, taking up her teacup.
“You made a great argument. It’s true.” Mercy beamed as she always did when thoughts of Leander came to mind. “But in the end, your son is the one who convinced me.”
The dowager duchess smiled. “My children are very eloquent and capable of a great deal of convincing, especially since they’re in the right most of the time. So, Hector will convince Priscilla.”
“I’m not certain,” Mercy warned gently before she finally decided on a lemon biscuit. “There’s a great deal at stake.”
At that point, her husband, Leander, Duke of Westleigh, strode in with a parchment in his hand. He was pouring over it carefully.
Her mother-in-law cleared her throat. “Tell Mercy that Hector shall be able to convince Lady Priscilla to marry him.”
Leander looked up from the paper and blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“There is a difficulty,” the dowager clarified. “Apparently, Lady Priscilla’s family will not like us.”
Leander strode up to the tea things, grabbed a scone, and began to eat it with surprisingly few crumbs spilled. “Well, if they don’t like us, it’s not really a difficulty, is it?”
“You know it is,” her mother-in-law said.
Leander let out a sigh. “Fine. Then we must go about making them like us. You are very good at that, Mama. Start a charm campaign.”
The dowager duchess let out a laugh. “Me, my dear? If they are nervous about our family, perhaps that is not the best thing. Perhaps you should endeavor to go first. What gentlemen doesn’t like the overtures of a duke? Especially a duke like you.”
Leander swallowed his scone. “Don’t you think Hector should fight his own battles?”
“Have we ever allowed anyone in our family to fight their own battles. Have we ever let you fight your own battles, my dear?”
Leander smiled slowly. “It’ll be fun, won’t it? Winning them over.”
The dowager duchess smiled. “It’s always fun, my dear. Life is what you make of it, as you know.”
Leander nodded. “Right then. Let it begin. We shall be winning over Priscilla’s family. Shall we invite them all over to tea?”
Mercy shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s the way. I think that the father and the mother are still deeply uncomfortable in society. They’re not like Priscilla, as I understand.”
“What do you mean?” the dowager duchess asked, her jewels winking in the afternoon light.
“Well, I’m sure they’ve both had training in the ton,” Mercy ventured. “But you must understand they were not born to the gentry. Not even close. I don’t care about such things, but so many of the ton do.”
“I see,” the dowager said. “Then we will go to them?”
“I think we must proceed with care,” Mercy urged. “Perhaps we should not even let them know what we are truly up to.”
Leander smiled. “You are quickly becoming exactly like us, Mercy.”
“Well, as you say, I am one of you,” Mercy said with a grin.
He pulled her up then and took her into his arms.
“Leander, your mother is present.”
“Mama,” he stated. “We require the room.”
His mother stood and hastened to the door. “There is so much to do!”
And as she heard her mother-in-law’s steps disappear down the hall, Mercy stared up at the man who had stolen her heart and threw her arms about his shoulders. She was happier than she ever had been.