* * *
Briggs was drunk. And he was at a brothel.
He hated himself. Despised himself. And yet, he was doing everything he could think to do to push her away.
And you will devastate her if you touch another woman.
He knew that.
It was why he was simply in the dining area drinking. He had not gone up to one of the bedrooms yet, but he would. He would. He would do what he must in order to...
To what? Devastate her? So that you can prove your own point?
But it was the work. That was what he could not take. That was what he could not endure.
He did not know what magical combination of pieces of himself he had found to make Beatrice love him. He did not understand it. And he had no idea how to continue on with it.
And it would be like everyone. Everyone. Eventually, he would not be able to be the thing that she wanted, and then she would hate him. She would hate him.
As much as he hated himself.
He felt the same chilly presence that he had felt that night at the ball and looked up. Of course it was Kendal. He should’ve known better than to be seen at a brothel when his brother-in-law was in town.
‘And what the hell are you doing here?’
‘Leaving your sister alone. Is that not what you want?’
‘Like hell. You bastard. I do not want you betraying my sister. That is certain.’
‘A betrayal, is it? How so? If she is merely to be my ward.’
‘And have you taken her innocence?’
He said nothing. Instead, he simply drank more whisky.
‘You have. Wonderful.’
‘What I have or haven’t done is hardly your business. You must leave me to sort out the affairs of my marriage. After all, you will wash your hands of me.’
‘It is only out of concern for Beatrice.’
‘Do you want to know a cruel joke? Your sister thinks that she is in love with me.’
Hugh stopped. ‘Does she?’
‘Yes. She gave quite an impassioned speech to that effect earlier.’
‘And now you’re here. Drunk. Why is that?’
‘Because you are right. There was no way she could possibly love me. How? How could she love me? I am debauched in every way. I am wrong. And I always have been. You helped me become the thing that people could tolerate. You helped turn me into a man who could at least walk into a room and have a conversation. One that was not about orchids. You took me to the brothel in Paris, and I found women there who enjoyed my particular vices. And with the exception of my late wife, with whom I made a terrible error in judgement, I have kept it there.
‘Until Beatrice. And she thinks... She thinks that she loves me for it. For all that I am. For the orchids and everything else. How is that possible? And when will it end? Because it will end. It will have to end.’
A strange light entered his friend’s eyes. ‘I have little desire to think about the ways in which you connect with my sister. However, if she says that she loves you...’
‘What? Now you believe it might be so?’
‘You do not have a sister, so you are forgiven for not understanding why it was not something I wish to think about. The two of you together. I know too much about you. The hazard of being friends for as long as we have. We are now men who might deal in a bit more discretion. Whereas when we were boys, trying to figure out life’s great mysteries, we were a bit more free.’
He could understand that. ‘That is true. I’d...’
‘It is not that I didn’t think my sister could love you. It is that... You were right. I’m used to thinking of her as a child. I’m used to protecting her. Our father did nothing for us. She was merely a means for him to bring young women into the house under the guise of being her governess. He paid exorbitant fees to keep her alive. To physicians. That is all true. But he loved no one beyond himself.’
‘And you have carried all of it.’
‘I have carried all of it,’ Kendal agreed. ‘What I said about Serena was not fair.’
‘It was something I had not told her.’
‘Go home. You don’t wish to be here.’
‘I don’t know where else to go.’
‘You will not betray my sister.’
‘No. Do you know... When we went to the brothel it was revolutionary for me. Because it was easy. I risked nothing to explore what I desired. It was a transaction. I have always found those things much easier than real life. But they do not last.’
‘These things are not real. You cannot take them with you into your life. The women here... They don’t know you.’
‘Don’t you see? I consider that a good thing.’
‘Briggs, I never liked you for what you pretended to be. I of all people know exactly where you come from. Exactly who you are. Do you not know that?’
‘It feels to me...’
‘And if I did anything to harm the relationship between you and my sister, I am sorry. I handled it badly.’
‘Does this have something to do with Eleanor?’
‘I am everything my father was not. And that is my deepest source of pride in this life.’
‘But that is not an answer.’
‘It is the only answer I can give. Beatrice married you. She has taken you every way that you come. And she has said that she loved you first. If you cannot even be half as brave as my sister... Then perhaps you are not the man I thought you were.’
And after that, Hugh disappeared up the stairs, likely on his way to exorcise his own demons. And he left Briggs to do the same.
Philip.
He could only hear that name now on his wife’s lips.
Philip. He had scorned himself back then. But now that he heard the name spoken by her and not his father... It felt different.
He felt different.
He left and took his carriage back home. He could not see Beatrice like this.
And as he made his way up the stairs, he heard screaming. Crying.
William.
He went into the room and saw his son laying on the floor, his cards spread out all around him. He did not need to know the details of what happened to recognise that he was in a rage. A deep despair. And that Briggs was responsible for it.
And it broke him.
He sat down on the floor, his own misery beginning to overtake him. He was starting to lose hold of all that held him to the earth.
‘William,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong? William.’
He was met with nothing but tears.
‘I am sorry.’ On his hands and knees he began to pick the cards up and put them back in the box. Carefully. With all the reverence he showed his flowers.
All the reverence his father had never shown any of his things.
‘I should not have made you feel badly about these. I was scared for you. Because those children were unkind. But they simply don’t understand. And you will find someone. Someone who will. A friend.’ He thought of Hugh. ‘A wife. And in the meantime, you have me. And you have Beatrice. We understand you. And we... We are very proud of you. And all of the things that you know. All of the things that you are. I was afraid because... I was afraid because I’m like you. I know a great many things about my flowers that I grow in the greenhouse. And I am interested in all of the details. But so many people are not. And I decided to make myself different so that I would not be scorned. But it did not make me happy. My orchids make me happy. What makes me different makes me happy.’
His son had quieted now. And was looking at him. He did not know if the boy understood.
Then suddenly William’s arms were around his neck. Holding him tight. ‘I love you.’
And he felt as if he had been taken out at the knees. Two people loved him. And had told him so. In the space of just a few hours. And he could sc
arcely breathe.
And it seemed so clear now. What he must do. He had to be a warrior. Just like Beatrice.
‘I love you too.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Beatrice was determined. To demand nothing of Philip. To not push. Because she thought deeply about what he’d said. About the ways he had felt like he must change. And she did not wish to do that to him.
She wanted to accept him. Just as he was. She wanted to be a gift to him. Not a burden.
She was sitting in the morning room when he came in.
‘Beatrice,’ he said. He was wearing the clothes he had been wearing the night before, the neckline of his shirt open. His beard was overgrown. He looked tired.
‘Will you come with me?’
‘Of course I will.’
He held his hand out, and she took it. He led her outside into the garden, but she had the sense he was not leading her down the garden path.
Not the way that he had done the night of the ball. No. He was leading her to his greenhouse.
‘I want to show you.’
And he did. Every plant. Every name. Latin and English. All the ways that they were taken care of. Trivia about how they were discovered. All of it was in his brain.
‘Which is your favourite?’
‘I do not have a favourite. They are all of equal fascination to me.’
‘You were brilliant.’
‘There is nothing useful about orchids.’
‘But you love them. That is why they are fascinating. It is the way that you see them that’s extraordinary.’
‘Beatrice...’
‘Philip, thank you for showing me this.’
‘I did not know how else to say... Except to say... I love you. I love you, and I am very sorry that I could not say it when you needed me to. Of the two of us, you are the stronger.’
Her chest burned. With joy. The satisfaction. With love.
‘It is my joy to be a warrior for you.’
‘I do not deserve you.’
‘If there’s one thing that I learned from being ill, it is that life is a gift. It is not about what you deserve or don’t deserve. Bad things happen. The glorious things too. And what if we had not stumbled into each other’s arms by the fire? That was a gift.’
‘We both fought very hard to become something we were not in the end.’
‘Did we?’
‘Yes. You to become James’s wife. Me to become Briggs. I think I will let the rest of the world continue to call me that. But as for you... I will be Philip. Only for you.’
‘And I am Beatrice. And it makes me happy.’
‘You are mine,’ he said. ‘And I care for what is mine.’
‘I know you do.’
‘I have some sweets for you.’
‘Why do I feel as if I’m being tempted?’
‘Because. You are. Now my darling wife... I feel that you should adequately show your love for me.’
‘Of course, Your Grace.’ She looked up at him, and their eyes met. ‘Philip.’
EPILOGUE
There never was a man more frightened of his wife giving birth than the Duke of Brigham. Though perhaps her brother nearly matched him for anxiety. And when his daughter came into the world, with a healthy set of lungs, screaming, he could only give thanks that his wife’s lungs seemed just as healthy.
The pregnancy had gone well. And the doctor said the labour was one of the easier he had ever seen.
It was true each time his Duchess gave birth. One thing he marvelled at was how different his children were, one from the other. And yet, he did not love any of them less.
William, for his part, proved to be a good big brother, though he did sometimes resent his siblings getting into his things, most particularly his cards.
The last of their children came when William was seventeen.
‘I shall not like to be responsible for caring for this child when it cries,’ William said.
He had just graduated first from Oxford. A brilliant mind. He had never been the most popular at school, but the friends he did have were true indeed.
‘Do not worry, William. You will benefit from the practice,’ Beatrice said, patting him on the head. ‘After all, you will be a father one day.’
‘I shall need to travel more first,’ William said. ‘I have a plan to visit every country and territory.’
Beatrice smiled, if a bit sadly. ‘I have no doubt you will. But I will very much look forward to your return.’
‘You do not have to worry, Mother,’ William said. ‘I will always come back home.’
* * *
And such a home it was. Full. And never conventional. With orchids and cards filled with the places they dreamed of visiting. With toys all over the floor. And a riding crop in their bedchamber. His life might not be the life that his father thought the Duke of Brigham should have. And for that Briggs gave thanks every day.
Because he did not want to be the Duke of Brigham the way his father wished him to be. He only wished to be Philip. The man that Beatrice loved.
That was his greatest joy in all the world.
Beatrice had set out that day to be the architect of her own ruin. And instead, she had saved them both.
* * *
HISTORICAL NOTE
There are a great many elements in Marriage Deal with the Devilish Duke that were not understood widely in the era the book is set, and that is intentional on my part. Had Beatrice’s childhood asthma been understood, and more easily treated, she would not have been weakened by the attempts to ‘cure’ her. If Briggs and his son’s mild Autism Spectrum Disorder had been diagnosed, if their differences had been given a place in society, rather than the forced assimilation that was required, they would have had very different lives—especially Briggs, who I believe, with Beatrice’s help, set about to make a better space in the world for William to be himself.
It is the same with Serena’s mental health and James’s sexuality, and Briggs’s sexuality as well. As a society we ostracized and feared what we did not understand. In our modern times, there are labels for all and everything, but it is not labels (however helpful!) that truly advance society. It is empathy and human connection. Without labels, Beatrice was able to accept people as they were because of her position slightly outside society. She was willing to take someone just as they were, applying the kindest lens to them, which created space even in an era before labels. That is my deepest hope for the future. That we might meet on common ground, rather than focusing on differences. That we might greet people with love, and an open heart, for that is where real progress lies.
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ISBN-13: 9780369711151
Marriage Deal with the Devilish Duke
Copyright © 2021 by Millie Adams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case o
f brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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“Are you alright?” he said.
She didn’t respond right away. Lorenzo worried she was in shock from the near assault.
“I’m fine, and I don’t need you acting like a Neanderthal for my benefit.” Her hands were balled into fists. Lorenzo wondered if she’d planned to hit Simmens herself.
Lorenzo couldn’t understand why this woman would get sore when his gesture was nothing less than chivalrous. It seemed like she had been offended by his defending her.
“I...I was just... He was going to say...” No one had made Lorenzo stutter in his entire life.
“I know what he was going to say, Mr....”
“De Luca. Lorenzo De Luca.” Lorenzo tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation.
“Mr. De Luca. And it wouldn’t be the first time, and it won’t be the last. I don’t need your help.”
Lorenzo, aghast at her words, couldn’t think of anything to say, partly because of her harsh tone and partly because of how beautiful she was. The demure dress couldn’t hide her womanly figure. With her high cheekbones and sharp chin, brown skin and pink lips, she should have been a movie star; maybe she was.
“I’m looking for the owner of this club.”
“I’m the owner,” Lorenzo said, still confused by her reaction. He realized everyone in the club was looking at him, this woman and the unconscious man on the floor.
Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 43
