Page 17 of The Rake’s Absolutely Devilish Reform (The Notorious Briarwoods #4)

P riscilla had never considered herself vacuous or shallow like the other young ladies of the ton. No, as a matter of fact, she had put herself above them in her own way.

She knew that now, and she also understand what a mistake that had been. For in all truth, she was as shallow as the lot of them, and it rankled.

Dear God, how it rankled.

She stood in the gallery overlooking a courtyard as children raced back and forth, barefooted, their clothes rough yet clean. Their cheeks appeared as if they had been well-fed.

Their eyes danced as they laughed happily.

There was no sewage running about as there so often was in the streets of St. Giles, and those working to look after the children appeared kind and good-humored.

She’d known cruel teachers with red noses and long sticks, ready to beat children into submission. Teachers who far preferred the stick over actually teaching anything, as if the teachers themselves could work out their own woes of the world with vengeance upon small bodies. Instead of turning things about and changing them.

Perhaps it was because those teachers had no ability to love themselves or heal themselves that they could not love and heal the children in their charge. But here, something else was happening.

“Prince Hal! Prince Hal!” the large group of children suddenly cried out, racing towards a door that had suddenly opened.

The boys and girls all applauded and cheered.

She watched cautiously from the shadows of the gallery where the dowager duchess had taken them. She, her father, and her mother all peered down. And there was Prince Hal.

Out strode Hector in costume, dressed in full pumpkin breeches, a doublet upon his torso, and with a blunted rapier strapped to his side. His boots went up past his knees, and upon his dark head perched a hat with feather plumes that was as glorious as the day was long.

Some men might have looked like fools. He did not. He looked positively magnificent. Then he bent and grinned at the boys and girls and began teasing them, singing, “With a hey ho the wind and the rain…”

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why do they call him Prince Hal?”

The dowager duchess looked over at her, her eyes full of tears. “You see, his name in full is Lord Hector Hal Briarwood. I wanted to call him Hal. You see, I’m the one who loves Shakespeare the most. Those roles were always the ones that gave me the most pleasure. And the duke, my husband, preferred Greek mythology, and so the children are named for both. When Hector was a boy, we all called him Hal. It suited him well because he was so mischievous and playful, just like the irreverent and impossible prince from the plays. Juliet sometimes still calls him Hal.” The dowager duchess wiped at her eyes. “But when his father died, he decided that he would be Hector from then on. He wanted to be able to remember his dear father every day. But the children here? They’ve always known him as Hal, and Shakespeare reigns in this place.”

Priscilla shook her head. “I don’t understand. Whatever do you mean?”

“He comes here, and he helps the children escape their lives. He gives them lunch, and a coin, and they put on Shakespeare plays for each other.”

“Is this not foolish?” she said, confused. “Don’t they need a proper education?”

“Well, of course they do,” the dowager duchess replied, “but you must understand they need more than just food. They need things for their spirit and their soul. That is what I always needed as a child in the East End, and that’s what they need too. And that’s what Hector gives them. He gives them happiness. He gives them joy. He gives them an outlet for their anger, for their love, for their loneliness by teaching them the speeches of Shakespeare. And then they interact with each other in a safe way.”

Priscilla turned her gaze to her father and her mother. Particularly, she gazed over at her father, and she was shocked by the transformation on his features.

His face. Oh, his face! It was awash with emotion. His hands were gripped into fists, and a tear streaked down his cheek.

“What is it, Papa?” she said.

“I never realized,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. “I didn’t understand.”

“What is it?” she asked, going to him and putting her arms around him, for she could not bear to see him thus. “You are so very upset.”

“He cares about people like us,” her father rasped. “He genuinely cares. I did not know that there were people like Lord Hector who did. This is not a workhouse where they break you for scraps. This is…” His voice broke.

The dowager duchess crossed to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, despite the fact that a duchess should maintain her distance. “My sons all care about the people of London, of England. Perhaps it is because I am their mother.” She drew in a long breath. “You might think that me being their mother is a weakness, a scandal perhaps, a stain upon the name. But in truth, it is the opposite. I have brought a fresh point of view to this family and a desire to help everyone, so that no one is left alone and cold and in dire circumstances.”

“Why didn’t he tell us that he did this?” Lord Plumhurst demanded.

“I told you,” she affirmed, “Hector doesn’t wish to make much of his work. He does not see this as out of the ordinary in the way that so many of the ton would. Where most need to tell everyone what they’ve done, he has not. He has been doing this since he was fifteen years of age. This is just who he is. This is not work to him. It is his life. That is how all my children are.”

Lord Plumhurst looked back to the children playing with Lord Hector, reciting Shakespeare together, and he gripped the railing of the gallery.

“So,” the dowager duchess continued, “when you say he is not a man of substance because he doesn’t go out into the world, shout at a pulpit and pound it, and tell everyone how they should behave and what they should do and try to change society? I want you to understand that this is how he’s changing the world. One small boy and one small girl at a time.”

And at that moment, Hector knelt down to one knee and talked to a particularly small boy. He doffed his hat and placed it on the boy’s head, and it was as if a transformation had occurred. The boy went from hunched shoulders, fear upon his face, to looking as resplendent as a lion.

And then the little boy began in bold tones to recite one of the speeches from Henry V.

At that moment, if Priscilla had not secretly loved him in her heart of hearts before, oh she loved him now.

As if Hector could feel that love traveling towards him, he lifted his gaze and looked up at her. His face transformed then too.

His eyes lit, shining.

But then a strange look crossed his features.

He swung his gaze, spotting his mother, and his brow arched.

The dowager duchess shrugged.

Hector rolled his eyes, but he smiled up at them, then he looked back to the children.

Without further distraction, Hector stood and clapped his hands, and then the children began to gather about him. They began to chant in different tones, speaking Shakespeare’s language, a language that was universal, a language that went straight to the heart.

“It was what gave me hope when I was small. Going to the theater,” Priscilla’s mother suddenly said.

Priscilla glanced to her mother. “Truly, Mama?”

She nodded. “Whenever I could, I would go with my penny and stand and watch. Truly, it took one away from the miseries and horrors of everyday life. You don’t remember it, my dear, because we couldn’t afford anyone to look after you, but your father and I used to go to the theater all the time. Not like the great lords and ladies, mind, but just regular people. And we’d see all the shows that traveled up from London.”

“They were my favorite audience,” the dowager duchess said firmly, her gaze full of compassion and determination. “They laughed the hardest. They cried the most. They felt the fullest, and they still do. And I’ll never forget, and I will not allow the two of you to hide anymore. I cannot do it. You have hidden in the shadows of the ton. And now? Now you will soar if you will but let me help you, for I have mastered the art of one thing.”

“And what is that?” Lord Plumhurst asked.

The dowager duchess gave them all a merry grin. “Doing whatever I please without looking back. Don’t you wish that for your daughter and for your grandchildren?”

Lord Plumhurst looked at her. “What I want for them is to have a heart and soul like that,” he said, looking back down at Hector. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”

“He is my pride and my joy,” the dowager confessed. “I love all my children, but there is something special about Hector. The way he’s looked after his older brother, the way he’s always looked after his family, and the way he’s looked after the children of the East End.”

“You’re right. He has the heart and soul of a lion. He has the heart and soul of a great man,” Lord Plumhurst declared. “Though he will never inherit a great title.”

“Titles do not make men great,” the dowager duchess said. “Their hearts do. And he has a heart like yours, sir.”

Lord Plumhurst’s eyebrows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”

The dowager took his hand in hers. “Noble, true, and willing to do anything for their family. Now you must simply wake up and realize what is truly best for your daughter.”

“Do say yes, Papa,” Priscilla said. “I beg of you. It would mean so much to have your blessing. More than I could possibly ever say.”

Her father exchanged a long glance with her mother before he turned back to her.

“My dear,” he said, holding his hand out to her. “After this, how could I possibly ever say no? How could I possibly ever turn my back on this opportunity…” He swung his gaze to the dowager. “And on the Briarwoods?”