Chapter 7
H ector had already headed off into the gardens in search, no doubt, of a paramour.
Ajax and Zephyr were playing billiards and imbibing in brandy.
Leander was accustomed to his brothers scattering at a ball. There was, of course, the initial meeting at such events in which they made certain that their sisters would be taken care of, their mother too, though she insisted she was perfectly capable on her own.
Of course she would insist on such a thing, but her sons stood around her like knights. A fortress in and of themselves.
And the fact was the Briarwoods acted as one. They always would. Which included knowing what the general plan was ensuring that no one would be ruined, unless, of course, that’s what they wanted. But one of the twin sisters, Hermia, was already married, and they would be announcing Juliet’s engagement this night.
There was no need to be worried on such a score, and so the brothers were having a merry time of it. Though, of course, they would have to unite at the announcement of the engagement.
Leander strode into the packed ballroom, and the moment he did, all attention swung to him. He was, of course, accustomed to it. It did not bother him at all. It had been happening to him since boyhood.
Dukes had to be comfortable with all eyes on them, though he knew some who were terrible at their job.
It was difficult working with those icy fellows. He was not icy. He loved people, he loved life, and he was grateful to be a part of it all, especially when his mind was humming along so in tune with his heart, his soul, and his body.
Sometimes his mind, like the colonies, would try to revolt, and that was when he went down to the country to isolate. But at present, all was well with the world, and Mercy Miller was proving a merry chase.
He had no doubts about the outcome.
Ultimately, who would not wish to be a duchess? And he was already beginning to prove his cause to her. Their interlude in the salon? It had been most rewarding, though his brothers were still quite skeptical about his abilities to win her over.
He would laugh in their faces. The kisses had told him all he needed to know. Mercy wished to be caught by him.
He had not told his brothers of the kiss. Of course, gentlemen did not do such things, even with brothers. And now as he scanned the crowds, he looked for his mother, for Mercy, for his sisters, and he spotted them across the room.
He beamed with delight. How he loved his antic-making family. There was nothing better in the whole world, but his gaze honed in on the young American lady, and he found his delight only increasing. He strode through the room, ignoring the chittering of the mamas who attempted to drop handkerchiefs in his path.
He was immune to the dropping of handkerchiefs.
If young ladies dropped them, well, much to their misfortune, they would have to reclaim them themselves. He was perhaps not the most chivalrous fellow, but he was kind. He would make certain that he danced with a few ladies this evening, but tonight? Tonight was for Miss Miller.
He stopped right before her and he found himself utterly transfixed. If he admired her in a gray gown which was what she had worn coming in straight off the ship, how he admired her in the silk gown that his female relatives had found for her.
All about them, people were gossiping. About her .
There was no question. He loved it. He loved it when the Briarwoods caused a stir. It was what they were meant to do. They were not meant to live quiet little lives. No, for the greater the life, the more gossip, the more scandal, the more delicious commentary. And that meant that they were living well, that others wished to be just like them.
And so he did not hesitate. He extended his hand immediately. “May I have this dance, Miss Mercy?” he asked.
She hesitated for a breath of a second, but then as if she could sense the sharks in the water about her smelling blood, she thrust her gloved hand into his. “Of course, Your Grace. I would be delighted. I would not have the people here thinking that American young ladies do not know how to dance a minuet.”
He winked at her at that. “We mustn’t have people thinking ill of our American cousins,” he said.
She laughed. “You mean American traitors?”
“Oh, no,” he countered. “We will have to build a good relationship going forward, and of course the best way to do that is…”
“Through diplomatic channels,” she drawled as he led her onto the floor.
“Marriage, Miss Miller. Through marriage,” he declared grandly. “Lots and lots of marriages, and lots and lots of babies.”
She gasped then. “Babies, Your Grace?”
He stood across from her, angling them for the dance. “I come from a large family. I will expect to have lots of babies. Do you like babies?”
She gazed up at him as if he had completely lost his wits, but he had not.
He was doing this on purpose because he had noticed something about Tobias, her brother. And he felt it was likely that Mercy was similar.
They were isolated and alone with no family, and Leander knew in his heart of hearts that they did not like it. Most people wanted to be like the Briarwoods, but that was only because they knew how to weather a scandal and because they were so much fun. Most of them had no idea about the inner workings of their family or what it was really like to be someone like them.
There was pain, passion, heart-rending sorrow, loss…and love. So much love.
At last, Mercy cocked her head to the side and said, “I have not had a great deal of opportunity to be around babies, but the general concept of them seems pleasant enough.”
He waggled his brows. “Ah, so you are not averse to the concept of having many babies.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m averse to the concept of being tired all the time.”
He found her intelligent reply refreshing. For among the many things that could make motherhood challenging, lack of support was perhaps one of the greatest.
“Fortunately for you,” he began, “when you agree to be my duchess—”
She frowned at him.
“You shall have a veritable army of people to assist you, myself included,” he continued, unfazed by her expression. “So, if you are tired, you shall be able to take a nap.”
She laughed at that. “I have seen many young mothers not able to take a nap. There is too much to do.”
“There is always too much to do,” he pointed out as the music began. “But you will be fortunate enough to have care and support, and a husband who cannot wait to shower you with—”
“Cease,” she said.
“What?” he asked as he took up the correct stance.
She tsked. “You will not win me over with protestations of opulence.”
“Is that a protestation of opulence?” He all but gaped. “Care?”
She began the first steps of the minuet, countering his movements. “You are offering me servants. That is not the same thing as care, Your Grace.”
He smiled slowly at her. “Of course it is, Mercy. I have no intention of handing my role to servants. But let me be plain. Wealth has advantages, and I would be an utter fool not to make you acquainted with them.”
She blinked at that. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Money is not a bad thing, Mercy. It gives people freedom. It is the hoarding of wealth and the keeping it from others that is bad. But I guarantee you I love to spread coin about, I love to spend it, I love to make sure that people have it, and I love to make sure that people can obtain it. I’m not one of those people who stuff it under my mattress like a greedy dragon in a mountain.”
She let out a slow breath. “I don’t know, Your Grace. There is something a bit like a dragon about you.”
“Oh, really?” he teased, curious as they turned and did the intricate steps. “And what is that?”
“Have you seen the way this room looks at you? I think they half expect you to spread wings and begin to fly.”
He threw back his head and laughed as he began to turn her slowly to the music.
He hoped everyone was watching but not because he was a dragon. Because he loved the way they moved to the music together.
He was a good dancer. He thrilled to it. His mother had made sure of that. He’d begun to learn as a child almost as soon as he could walk. He could handle a sword, ride a horse, and dance a minuet with aplomb.
Miss Miller had a natural talent for it, but he doubted she’d had the many lessons that he or his sisters or brothers had. Still, it didn’t matter. He didn’t need someone tutored. He wanted someone unschooled in the ways of the ton, and she? She was perfection.
As she began the steps in his arms, the crowd along the ballroom were watching and murmuring behind their fans.
“It’s very easy to cause a scandal here,” she observed.
“Oh, we are not causing a scandal,” he said. “But we are causing conversation.”
“Another American conquest?” she queried.
He grinned. “Indeed. You should have seen what people were doing when it was very clear that my sister was falling for your brother. Everyone expected her to marry a titled English gentleman. But anybody with good sense would marry someone like Tobias or you.”
“Us?” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “Out with the old. In with the new,” he said. “The world is changing.”
“That seems a very dangerous thing to say, Your Grace. Aren’t you assuring the end of your line?”
“Oh no,” he countered softly, tilting his head down. “It is the evolution of my family. I will not be calcified or turned into a mummy. I will not allow the Briarwood line to fade away. We must change with the times or become obsolete. You see, we did not become titled through doing things like others.”
“No?” she said.
“Oh no. One of my formidable ancestors? She seized her chance. She caught the eye of the king and gave him a son, and that was how the Westleigh dukedom was born. Not through great deeds of military service, or gentility, but by seeing the way the wind blew. And that is how we have survived so well, and that is how we shall always survive.”
“My goodness,” she said, her eyes wide. “You are a family of chancers.”
“Exactly, Mercy,” he said. “I’m glad you’ve spotted it so early on.”
“And what sensible woman would marry into a family of chancers?” she stated.
“One who wants to live a little.”