Chapter 13

T he closet doors were flung open.

“A wedding! I knew it!” exclaimed the duke.

Gordon froze, his arms wrapped around the woman who had completely entranced him, every part of him, every breath. He stiffened, shocked.

Of course, this had happened. Of course, this was all a trick.

Perdita scowled. “No wedding, Brother,” she announced. “You’re supposed to say ‘sardines.’ Congratulations. You found us. Well done… Unless Zephyr told you where we were.”

“I told you, you all cheated,” Gordon said softly, anger beginning to build within him at how damned foolish he’d been.

“No,” she rushed. “Absolutely not. There is no cheating here.”

“Never fear,” the duke cut in far too jollily. “I have already procured a license. I arranged it before you got here, Gordon, because I knew this moment would arrive, and I’m terribly excited about it.”

Gordon narrowed his eyes, still holding Perdita. “Did you?” He cleared his throat. “Arrange all of this, Your Grace?”

The duke nodded enthusiastically. “Of course,” the duke said. “Every bit of it. I figured that you would realize how wonderful my sister was. Zephyr suggested the game of Sardines.

We knew where you’d be hiding and, well, look, here we are. No need to thank us.”

“You can’t possibly be serious about this, Leander,” Perdita ground out.

“You were the one who suggested that she could have an affair with me with no consequences,” Gordon gritted.

The duke blinked with wide, innocent eyes. “Did I do that? Surely, I didn’t.”

The duke’s exaggerated innocence was completely preposterous.

“You did,” Gordon stated without apology. He was not about to pretend that conversation had not happened. He would not let the duke get away with that. Not at all.

The duke paused, then gave him a rather intense stare. “I think, if you recall, I said that if you ruined her, you would become my brother. And that is exactly what is happening. Is it not? ’Tis a marvelous happy end for all.”

He flinched. Bloody hell. Leander had said that. The man had seemed full of jests about the thing. But clearly, the duke had been serious.

Gordon had ruined her. He was technically caught, and he had a terrible feeling that the rest of the family was suddenly going to arrive and gaze upon them in the closet like he and Perdita were animals in an exhibit.

What had he done? What had he chosen?

This. This was what he had chosen. There was no getting around it. Or the lies he’d clearly told himself so that he could be in Perdita’s arms.

A muscle tightened in Gordon’s jaw before he affirmed, “You truly have the license?”

The duke nodded happily. “Oh, and a bishop. We managed to get him here through the snow. He was staying just down the road. It was wonderful. You see, Jean-Luc brought him earlier in a sleigh. He’s very adept at driving, our cousin. It’s all that time he spent in Russia. And of course, we’ve been plying the bishop with mulled wine downstairs. He’s very cheerful at present. Though not too cheerful, if you understand me. No one could ever doubt the legality of the ceremony. So, why don’t we all go to the chapel, have done, and then we can celebrate Christmas and your union?”

The duke looked so pleased that Gordon wondered if he was actually having an exceptionally elaborate dream.

“It’s the perfect Christmas Eve,” the duke added. “I’m giving you what you truly want, Gordon, though you cannot yet admit it.”

“It is not the perfect Christmas Eve,” Perdita bit out, quite indignantly. “You cannot do this, Leander.”

The duke bounced on his boots. “I can. I’m a duke. I can do whatever I want.”

Gordon looked from her to the duke, wondering what the devil he should do. And then he realized—was this what he had wanted all along? Had he been pushing and testing for this? Had he been trying to get caught and shoved into a corner with her?

It was really the only explanation for him to give in against his honor, to think he was going to show her what a terrible person he was, because he wasn’t a terrible person, no matter how much he wanted to be in order to keep their marriage from happening.

He’d already felt terrible regret. Once he had made love to her, the idea of hurting her had been impossible.

“Right,” he said. “Lead me to the chapel. I shall, of course, do my duty.”

“I have no desire for you to do your duty,” Perdita snapped. “I don’t need duty.”

“You do need duty,” Gordon replied. “Everyone needs duty. Everyone should get up in the morning and eat, breathe, and live duty. If they did, the world would be a much better place. Frankly, I’m tired of everyone living on feelings and whims,” he declared. “It is feelings and whims that have gotten the world into this terrible state.”

She stared up at him. “You are serious,” she said softly.

“I am deadly serious,” he said. “I’ve acted with you, a young lady, as no gentleman ought. Therefore, I am ready to pay the price.”

She paled at that. Of course, she did. She should.

It was possibly the cruelest thing he could have said, and he hadn’t meant to. It had simply slipped past his lips.

“Pay the price?” she mocked, her voice low.

The duke coughed. “I say, old boy, that was a bit steep.”

“So is the price, apparently,” Perdita drawled.

She pulled away from him. “I don’t have to marry you. There doesn’t have to be a price.”

“There is always a price,” he replied quietly. “And you don’t have to marry me. But your family wants it. You want it. Duty says we should. Tell me true, isn’t it the gift you wanted for Christmas?”

She stilled and swung her gaze to her brother and then back to him. She was clearly debating.

And then he heard the dowager duchess call from the hallway, “Cease. This is about to go wrong. I will not have this turning into some bizarre tragedy instead of a comedy. A wedding always means it’s a comedy!”

“In Shakespeare, Mama,” Perdita replied.

“Exactly,” her mother said as if this made what she said all the more true. “So, you best marry him.”

Perdita blinked rapidly with tears in her eyes.

Had Gordon done that?

No. Her bloody brother had, in a way. What did the duke think? That he was suddenly just going to keel over with love? He couldn’t keel over with love, but he could keel over with doing the right thing. And a part of him? A part of him wanted one last attempt to have what he had always longed for but knew he could never have.

But he supposed, in this situation, he could let himself try. Couldn’t he?

He stared at the duke and stated, “This is really odious of you.”

“Odious,” Leander replied. “What a word. I could never do anything odious.”

“Yes,” Perdita said, “you most certainly could.”

She gave a withering, disgusted look to her older brother, who she clearly loved very much, then she lifted her slippered foot and stomped on her brother’s boot, causing him to jump backward and yelp.

“Bloody hell, Perdita,” the duke piped.

She met her brother’s gaze and ground out, “You’ve gone too far. This is too much, Leander.”

Then much to Gordon’s shock, the duke’s face transformed to one of trepidation.

Leander’s eyes shone with a wild sort of light and then worry. “Is it? Too much.” The duke swallowed. “Have I been too much this time?”

Perdita’s brow furrowed and she blinked rapidly. “I love you, Leander. Just as you are. And you will never be too much. But you’ve pushed Gordon, and I will never know if he’s married me for me… Or because of you.”

Her powerful speech echoed through the hall, leaving both men staring at her.

She swung her gaze to Gordon. “I suppose I will see you in the chapel to avoid tragedy.”

Without another word, she began stomping down the hall towards her mother.

Gordon looked at her brother.

The duke had the good sense to look contrite for a moment. “You best go after her. And I’m sorry if this was the wrong thing. But somehow, I know this is exactly what you want.”

“You know,” he growled, “you’ve caused a lot of trouble, Your Grace, with your knowing.”

Leander leveled him with a stare full of emotion. “Sometimes if you want a really good life, you have to cause a little trouble.”

“This is not a little trouble,” Gordon countered. “You’ve forced my hand.”

“Did I?” the duke asked quietly. “Did I really? We would never actually force you to marry her, or her to marry you. I think you know that. I think you actually longed for this. Because, in your heart, you could never do the wrong thing, my friend. No matter what you told yourself.”

Gordon flinched. He was a mass of confusion.

The dowager duchess walked towards them, Perdita having swept down the hall.

Her brows rose as she stopped before him. “You can still walk away at this moment, as can she. Is that what you want?”

What did he want?

Perdita, damn it. He wanted her. Damn the future. Damn what he feared would happen.

“Get the license,” he said. Then he stormed out of the closet, through the hall, and after his soon-to-be wife.

Wife.

What a word. He’d never thought to have one. He’d planned on letting the estate go to one of his cousins. But now, in an instant, in a closet during a game orchestrated by her family, it had all changed.

It never occurred to him to be bitter about Perdita or to accuse her of nefarious behavior. No. She might’ve arranged a few things of her own, but she’d always been terribly open with him. She had not shoved him into this corner.

Hell, he wasn’t even in a corner. He was in a hallway, and he could turn about and run if he wanted to, but he wasn’t going to run. No, he was going to take her. He had no other choice. Not if he was going to actually be true to himself.

This was the moment he was being asked to stand up and do what was right. And by God, he had always done what was right. And he wasn’t about to stop.

He could almost hear the duke laughing behind him.

“I knew you’d do the right thing, and easily!” the duke called.

Steeling himself, he wound his way through the castle, trying to find the blazing chapel. He recalled seeing it before and tried to find it again.

And then he heard it.

Organ music. Someone was playing the bloody organ, and it was luring him towards the chapel.

He turned a corner and then stopped, sucking in a breath. Perdita stood right at the entrance to the small, beautiful chapel. Candles were lit and glowing, and her family was waiting.

“I have been manipulated into a wedding on Christmas Eve,” he ground out.

Ajax strode towards him and grabbed his shoulder with a brotherly squeeze. “We didn’t really do it, old boy.”

“You did,” Zephyr said merrily as he crossed to them. “You can blame us all you want, but you were the one who wanted her, and you were the one who was willing—”

“No need for all the details,” cut in Hector. “We did what we did because it is the best thing for both of you.”

“And we do believe in doing the best thing,” put in Zephyr.

“We Briarwoods don’t mess about when we go after what we want,” declared Hector.

“We go after what we think is good,” added Ajax.

Zephyr leaned forward and smiled. “And you’re about to see that.”

“Am I?” he ground out, even as he felt his eyes drawing to her as she lingered, alone, near the entrance. “I hope to God you are right, because if you are wrong, our lives will be utter hell.”

Zephyr rolled his eyes. “Never in a month of Sundays.”

Hector beamed. “Congratulations, you’re about to have family, my friend, cheer up.”

“It’s Christmas,” enthused Ajax.

It was about to be Christmas, and he was about to have a family, and he should have liked it. He should have loved it, but he felt fear instead.

He’d never really had a family. Not like this one.

He had no idea how to handle it. And even though some small part of him, deep in his heart, whispered, at last, he knew that he would never really know how to behave. Never really know how to have a family. Never, ever truly fit in.