Page 22 of The Rake’s Absolutely Devilish Reform (The Notorious Briarwoods #4)

T he wedding had taken place in the small chapel on Heron House grounds. It had been a quiet affair with just her family and Hector’s. Hector’s family was so large though, and his brothers so rambunctious, that it hadn’t exactly been a sedate wedding.

There had been much cheering and much crying out of happiness. Tears had abounded everywhere and, well, she had loved every bit of it. She no longer had to repress her more excitable nature, nor did her mother or her father.

And the days that had passed since the wedding had been day after day of heaven. Perdita had not been mistaken. Almost every day was a revelation with the Briarwoods. Her mother had been taken in by the dowager duchess, and the two of them went everywhere together, quoting Shakespeare at each other. And while society had been quite reticent at first, a few dagger-like looks from the dowager duchess, and even from her own mother, had secured her mother’s place in society.

Perhaps not everyone would always welcome her mama, but it did not matter because the people who mattered followed the dowager duchess’s lead. And so her mama now had friends in society and was leading an organization for the education of the wives of factory workers.

It was quite a wonder to see her mother seize something up and find her place.

It filled her with such happiness that Priscilla could scarce breathe some days. For her mother had been lost for far too long.

Her father, too, was now working with Hector, bringing Shakespeare and hope to children all over the country. Children who otherwise would know little but hunger, hard work, and a thankless existence.

And she? Well, she was learning to be herself whenever she went out into company, and that was quite an endeavor. She’d been pretending so long to be what was required of her that it was no small thing to choose to be bold at all times.

And once she had that mastered, she knew the world was open to her, whatever cause she wanted to pursue. And she was certain it would have to do with children because she loved children so, and she understood how incredibly important it was not to crush their spirits when they were small. No, it was so important to provide a safe, steadying hand for them to grow and explore in this world, so that they might become adults who continued to grow and explore and did not hurt and squash those around them.

Trenty was in heaven. She’d been given a large cottage on the grounds of Heron House and a pension so large that she had laughed with delight and headed off immediately to Venice with her young artist friend. It seemed Trenty had always longed to be a great patroness.

Priscilla received daily letters about how George was painting the Canal and how Trenty was soaking up the sun and the beautiful colors of a city meant for magnificent souls.

Lord Fitzhubert had left England.

Perhaps he did not wish to risk another altercation between himself and the Briarwoods. She’d never know exactly what happened between her husband, his brothers, and the odious fellow, but it had certainly been enough to make sure that Fitzhubert had no desire to stay upon this shore. He had gone abroad permanently, and from what she heard, he’d given up brandy and was actually beginning to do some good works.

It rather surprised her, but apparently it had not surprised Hector.

Hector had said that it was not uncommon for people who faced a terrible moment—a reckoning, so to speak—to wake up and change. He’d been happy to provide that for Lord Fitzhubert.

Ha! She’d wager he had been pleased to arrange such a moment. She had just been pleased that her husband had not been the one with the bruised face this time.

She hoped Hector was correct. She hoped that Lord Fitzhubert would abandon the sort of fellow that he’d been, that he’d abandon the lineage of family horrors that had shaped him. On new shores, perhaps he could become a new man.

After all, why not?

Her father had done so. Her mother had done so. She had done so. They had steered their way out of generations of poverty and pain and would never again experience a life of hardship.

It sounded as if all the Briarwoods had done so in their own way too, making themselves into whoever they wished to be. And that was the glory of this life.

One could, at any moment, make themselves into whoever they wished to be if they simply but spoke it and put their words into action.

Every day, the Briarwoods gathered in the salon and read aloud from poetry, plays, and performed Shakespeare scenes and monologues.

It was a ritual. Her mother and father had already performed pieces from Twelfth Night. And she? She had read the sonnets because the sonnets, in her mind, were the greatest love stories that had ever been put into written word.

And right now, all she felt was love.

At present, the room all but exploded with excitement from the French cousin, Jean-Luc, who had come over not long ago with Achillies. His two sisters had arrived separately. They’d all escaped clandestinely and journeying together had been too dangerous, apparently.

The three of them did still seem somewhat shaken, but they were adjusting to life here in England.

Achilles sat by his mother, who could not stop looking at him with rampant joy. Priscilla wondered if he might explode on the spot with the force of his mother’s love.

And then, of course, there was Ajax and Lord Zephyr, Perdita, Lady Juliet, Hermia, and their husbands, the Earl of Drexel and the American, Mr. Miller. The duke and duchess looked on too, and their love and approval was on full display.

Her own parents stood, hand in hand, happier than they had ever been, surrounded by the Briarwoods.

Priscilla’s world was so different than it had been just a few days ago.

“Come now,” announced the dowager duchess. “We must hear our darling daughter-in-law. What have you to say today?”

“What do I have to say?” she asked as the room quieted and everyone turned towards her, waiting to hear her speak. “Not Shakespeare today.”

A general cry of mock horror faced her, but she raised her hands. “It is from my heart. It is original. You, Briarwoods… You are a harbor, a place where those who have been bashed by storms, shaken by winds, and nearly destroyed by waves can come, and you welcome those who are wounded with welcome arms.” She looked to her mother and her father. “And you have given us a world we could never have expected.”

The faces before her transformed, moved beyond words, full of love.

She held out her hand to Hector, who took it and pulled her into his arms.

She gazed up at her husband with a love so powerful she couldn’t even fathom its depth, and then she looked at her new family. “And I think that in this world that you all have created, there is nothing greater than to be a Briarwood.”