by Millie Adams
‘Good,’ Hugh said, looking around.
‘William is enjoying himself.’ Normally he went out of his way to never speak of William. Not even to Hugh.
His friend lifted a brow, indicating his surprise.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘Beatrice is a wonderful stepmother to him,’ he said. ‘He has... He has changed a great deal with her. I wonder what would’ve become of me if I’d had a mother who had cared for me so.’
He did not know why he was saying this to his friend, except that he knew what Briggs had been like when he had first gone to school. The lack of confidence he’d felt. The inability to speak to other children.
‘I’m glad to hear it. That it has been something beneficial for you.’
‘I would hope for all of us.’
‘That is more than I expected to hear, I confess.’
‘She is a strong woman, your sister,’ Briggs said. It was difficult for him to keep the admiration from his voice, and then, why should he? Hugh should understand. He should understand what manner of woman Beatrice was. Woman. Because he got the feeling his friend still thought of her as a girl. And she was not. She was strong, and glorious. When the two of them made love they...
Hugh’s head turned sharply, his focus suddenly diverted. Briggs followed his gaze. His ward had gone to the dance floor and was now in the arms of another man.
‘I do not approve of that,’ Hugh said.
‘Abernathy? Why?’
‘You know full well.’
‘He frequents the sort of brothels that we do?’ Briggs asked.
‘He has a reputation for being quite perverse.’
‘So do I, as you well know.’
The look that Hugh gave him went hard. ‘Yes, and I have full confidence that you are not visiting such acts upon my sister or I would look at you much the same.’
Briggs ground his back teeth together. ‘She is not your sister,’ he said, indicating Eleanor.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Indeed she is not.’
Beatrice separated herself from her lady-friends, and fixed him with a bright smile. Then she looked at her brother. ‘It is so good to see you.’ He knew that were they not in the ballroom she would’ve flung herself at Hugh and given him a hug.
‘And you. London suits you.’
‘Yes,’ Beatrice said defiantly. ‘It does. I remember a time when you did not think that would be true.’
‘I’m happy to be proven wrong,’ Hugh said.
‘Well, a strange thing indeed coming from you. I did not realise the Duke of Kendal ever thought he could be wrong.’
Her words were strong and clear. She was not saying this to him to goad him, rather she was not allowing him total control of the situation. He recognised a person playing at mastery when he saw it.
It was damnably impressive.
‘In this instance,’ he said, ‘I am pleased to be.’
‘My dear husband,’ Beatrice said. ‘Perhaps you should spare me a dance. We can keep an eye on Eleanor. Which I do think my brother would like. So that he can stop staring daggers in that direction.’
‘I’m not staring daggers.’
‘You are. Do not make this miserable for her,’ Beatrice said, not allowing him to get away with it.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Do not make it miserable for her,’ Beatrice repeated. ‘Whether it be because of protection or because you do not want another man to have that which you will not take yourself, you must not make her miserable. Please let her be happy.’
‘She will not be happy with him,’ Kendal said, bristling, and Briggs felt utterly outclassed by his wife. Who had clearly identified something happening that he had not.
‘You must let her determine that,’ Beatrice said. ‘You must let her decide what will make her happy.’ Beatrice let out a harsh breath. ‘You cannot protect people from everything. You cannot force everyone to live the life that you think is best.’
‘Of course I can,’ Kendal said. ‘I’m a duke.’
‘You are a stubborn ass is what you are,’ Beatrice said. ‘Come. Let us dance.’
Briggs shrugged, and allowed Beatrice to take him to the dance floor, where he took her into his arms. ‘Bold of you,’ Briggs said.
‘Eleanor is miserable with love for him. He cannot act a jealous lover when he has no intention of ever...’
‘Beatrice,’ Briggs said gently. ‘Even if he did see her that way, which he has never indicated to me that he does, you know he never would. She is beneath his station in every way, and under his protection.’
‘I know,’ Beatrice said. ‘And so does she. But it does not change the way that she feels. If he truly wishes to do a kind thing for her, he must let her be happy. He must let her be.’
‘Human hearts are terribly inconvenient things,’ Briggs said.
‘Yes,’ Beatrice agreed readily. ‘They are.’
Her eyes took on a strange light, and he shifted uncomfortably.
Eleanor, for her part, looked like she was enjoying herself well enough, as she traded partners with frequency. She was extraordinarily beautiful, and even though her icy blonde beauty did not appeal to Briggs when he had Beatrice’s lovely chestnut curls beneath his hands, he could see that she was just the sort of woman that many men would like. She did not have a title, or a dowry, but she was under the Duke of Kendal’s protection, and he was offering quite the dowry. She should be able to find herself a good match.
Such a strange thing, to be at one of these events with a wife again. He had not fully appreciated it the first time.
He did not have to avoid women coyly trying to get his attention. Then indeed, even if there were women attempting to get his attention, he did not think he would notice.
He was brought back to the moment by Beatrice’s hand on his cheek.
‘You are missing from me.’
‘I’m not,’ he said. ‘Never.’
Her cheeks flushed. ‘I remember when I so looked forward to experiencing a ball. And now I find myself impatient to leave so that you and I can be alone.’
‘If your brother were not here, I might take you into the garden again.’
‘That I would enjoy. But perhaps I would be the one to pleasure you.’
His desire had him in a chokehold. And he knew that he should not tease her like this, not so openly. But everyone around them was dancing, and they were far too interested in their own entanglements to worry at all about Briggs and his wife.
He moved his hand up between her shoulder blades, then up still to the back of her neck, his hold turning possessive. And he felt her shiver beneath his touch.
‘A promise,’ he said. ‘For later.’
‘I will hold you to that promise. I must warn you, I’m feeling particularly unruly tonight.’
‘You shall require a firm hand.’
Her grin lit up the ballroom. And he felt it square at the centre of his chest.
‘I do hope so.’
When he looked up it was because he felt, rather than saw, someone looking at him. And he was correct. The Duke of Kendal had fixed him with a thousand-yard stare that felt rather like a knife at the centre of his back.
He had been wrong then, about the interest of others. Hugh needed to find himself a woman to distract him, for Briggs had no interest in being the focus of his attention.
But then, Hugh would not find the sort of woman he liked here. While he did not share Briggs’s specific affinities, what he knew was that his friend tended towards a level of roughness not ever visited upon gently bred ladies.
‘Come on,’ he said.
He led her out towards the back of the ballroom, to the terrace. And he sensed that Kendal was following them.
He was not in the mood to have a discussion with his friend about the
details of his intimate life.
‘What is it?’
‘Oh, I imagine we will discover exactly what it is in just a few moments.’
‘Why exactly was I watching as the two of you flirted outrageously on a dance floor?’
‘We are married,’ Beatrice pointed out. ‘I cannot be ruined by my own husband.’
‘Do not be incorrigible,’ Hugh said. ‘You and I both know the circumstances of your marriage.’
‘Nobody knows the circumstances of our marriage but us,’ Beatrice said.
And he did want to tell her to not play quite so grandly with his fate. He did like to be alive.
‘Briggs, I asked one thing of you.’
‘Yes. You asked me to take care of your sister. You asked me to treat her as a ward.’
‘I have the sense things have changed.’
Briggs knew that he was about to cross a line. And he thought to himself for a long moment about whether or not he wished to turn back. He did not.
‘Perhaps, it is simply that you are taking your feelings about what you would like to do with your ward and placing them on my shoulders.’
Hugh took a step forward. ‘You bastard. You would question my honour.’
‘I know what it looks like when a man burns with jealousy, Kendal. I’m not blind.’
‘And I know what it looks like when a man is gazing at a woman in a way that suggests he has taken her to bed.’
‘Are you accusing me of being bedded by my husband?’ Beatrice asked. ‘As if you have a say in that. As if it is yours to know? Because that is too far, Hugh. Even for you, it is too far. You may not control my life. You do not get a say in what I can endure.’
‘Having a child could kill you.’
‘Yes. But being married to Briggs and not having him would have killed me as well. Oh, I might’ve still drawn breath, but my broken heart would have hurt every time it beat.’
Hugh took a step back, a muscle jumping in his jaw. But he was only shocked enough to be set back for a moment. ‘He is not a knight of the round table, Beatrice. He is a dragon. And you will end up burned.’
‘Perhaps I like dragons. And fire in equal measure. You think me weak,’ she said. ‘And if you insist on inserting yourself into my life, then you will discover things that you may not wish to know. Not the least of which because you do not wish to know such things about your sister, but because you do not wish to find out you are wrong, and I think perhaps that is the thing that will burn the most. Do you think I fear the things that he wants? I run towards them. There are many things you don’t know about me.’
‘And you know exactly why his first wife died?’
Briggs took a step forward. ‘That is too far.’
‘If you laid a hand on my sister in the way you handle your whores then you have gone too far.’
‘You would rather I stay married to a man who must seek out pleasure at a brothel, rather than giving myself to him? Even if it is what I want?’
‘You cannot...’
‘I cannot understand? I was bled. My skin was cut open, my... The process of saving my life was nothing but pain. Pain and isolation. What I wish to do with that life should be up to me. The cost that it took to get me here... You do not get to say how I will live. It is not your decision to make. And you will not speak so to my husband.’
‘If you put my sister’s life at risk, I can no longer call you a friend.’
‘If you care so little for her happiness then perhaps I can no longer call you one either.’
And that was not even considering the fact that he had brought Serena into it. Her death. And his every feeling of guilt on the subject. ‘Come, Beatrice. I think it is time we went home.’
‘Yes,’ she said.
But not before she put her hand on his face and kissed him boldly on the mouth. ‘I should like to go home.’
She walked past Kendal without giving him a glance, and back into the ballroom.
Kendal stopped him with a hand on his chest. ‘This is a betrayal.’
‘It does not surprise me,’ Briggs said, his chest feeling cut open. ‘But in the end of all things, you find me as repellent as all others I have once called friends and family. But she does not.’
‘For now.’
‘For now,’ Briggs said.
‘And if she has a child, and she dies...’
The words stabbed straight through his chest. A knife to his heart. It was a deep fear, one that left him gasping for breath.
But he had seen her. What she wanted. What she was capable of.
What she craved.
He knew she would never be happy with half a life.
She wanted it all.
He would be damned if he was the one that kept her in chains.
‘I will never forgive myself. But you have the luxury of turning her into an object. Of turning her into a child that you must guide and care for. I have a child. I have a son, and I know the difference between being a father and being a husband. I am not her brother. I am not her father. She is my wife. And I am her life sentence.’
‘Better than being her gallows.’
‘She is not a child. I cannot look at her day in and day out and feel pleased with sentencing her to have a life where she is treated like she is weak and like she does not know her own desires.’
‘That is a very noble way of saying you cannot control your cock.’
‘Perhaps I cannot. Perhaps I want her. But you will find that she is not upset about that either. All she wanted was a Season, Kendal. For a man to look at her across the room and want her. I want her. She and I have been shaped and forged in a particular sort of fire, and I suppose the end result is that we suit each other better than we could’ve imagined. I am not ashamed of it. I refuse to be.’
‘I wash my hands of you.’
‘Then you wash your hands of her as well. For she is my wife. She is my family now. I protect mine.’
He walked away then, leaving behind the only real friend he had ever had.
And when he exited the ballroom, he saw her standing there, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. And he realised... He had her now. Whatever else.
In this moment. He had her.
They got into the carriage together, and she put her hand on his thigh. More of that casual sort of touch that lit him from within. ‘I’m sorry,’ Beatrice said. ‘That was a terrible thing for him to say. It was a terrible thing for him to do. You are an honourable man, Briggs...’
‘I’m not,’ Briggs said. ‘He is right. If I had honour, I wouldn’t have touched you. But I did not have honour, what I had was a desire to see you happier than you were. And I wanted you. It was that simple.’
‘I am not sorry about it.’
‘I know,’ he said.
‘He should not have brought up your wife.’
No. But perhaps now was the time when he should speak to Beatrice about it.
But he did not. He did not. Instead when they got home they did not speak. He pulled her into his arms, and made a particularly punishing night of it.
* * *
The next day, she set out to find a physician to speak to.
And Briggs decided to have a picnic indoors with William.
‘Where are your cards, William?’ he asked, when they were midway through their meal and he realised that his son had not produced them.
‘I do not play with them any more.’
‘Why not?’
‘I know all the answers on them. They’re in my head. Where no one can see.’
Briggs felt a twist of regret inside him.
And there were so many things he wanted to say, but he did not know how to say them.
He thought of what his own father would’ve done, but he couldn’t even get that far, because his father
would not have been here sitting on the floor with him.
He did not know how to do this. He did not know how to... How to be the right thing for people. And he was trying. Trying for Beatrice, because she deserved it. But the cost was losing Hugh’s friendship. He did not know how to protect his son, and make it feel like there was nothing wrong with him. He did not know what things to share of himself and what things to hold back. He did not understand how to make Briggs be a good father.
May I call you Philip?
No.
What sort of father would Philip have been? What if he turned around and started talking about orchids?
It was exhausting. This.
And he did not know the way around it.
* * *
Beatrice returned home; she was pale and large-eyed.
‘How was your visit with the physician?’ he asked.
‘He said that there is always risk in having a child. And he cannot guarantee any woman that she will survive.’
Briggs laughed. But there was no humour in it. ‘Quite a measured response.’
‘He does not see why I should be any more vulnerable than any other woman. We talked extensively about my issues. The malady in my lungs, and how it has not been as bad in recent years. He said he does sometimes see this. The children who survive a childhood such as mine, with lungs that close off, sometimes fare much better as adults. He said it is difficult to get a firm grasp on how many, because very often they do not survive childhood.’
‘I see.’
‘He thinks that we can have a baby.’
He very suddenly, very fiercely did not wish to share her.
‘Perhaps some day.’
‘That is all right,’ she said. ‘I do not need one now. But I would like for there to be no restraint between us. At least tonight.’
Desire was a beast inside him. He knew what she was asking. And tonight... Tonight he felt willing, more than willing, to take the risk. ‘Philip,’ she said. ‘I wish for you to take me to bed.’
It was still not yet dark, but he did not care. He picked her up, right there in the entry, and carried her up the stairs, in full view of all the servants, who undoubtedly knew exactly what he intended for his Duchess. He did not care. He simply did not care. For he was out of restraint. There was none left within him. And he wished to revel in that.
