Alcott Hall: Second Sons Book Three

Madeline sighed with relief as she and Charles broke through the dark trees. The snow was still falling, but not nearly as hard as before. The massive frame of Alcott Hall glowed like a beacon at the far end of the park. Half the lights of the great house were glowing, and a series of bobbing lantern lights floated about the grounds.

People were shouting, relaying back to each other. The voices echoed across the fresh blanket of snow. Something was wrong.

“Oh Charles, are they looking for me?” Madeline murmured.

He stiffened, his arm wrapped around her, helping to support her weight. “I think so.”

As if in confirmation, a lantern bobbed to their right.

“Madeline? Bray, is that you?” called a deep voice, lantern held high on a pole. Burke was wrapped up warm in layers of black. A smaller figure trotted at his side.

“Madeline! Oh, thank god,” came another familiar voice, floating across the quiet of the snowy park.

“Goddamn it, Rosalie, I said go back,” Burke shouted. “You’re in no fit condition—”

“Oh, Burke, but she’s hurt!” the duchess cried, daring to cross the space. Another lad with a lantern trotted at her side.

Madeline dropped Charles’s arm, rushing forward. “Rosalie!”

Charles let her go, sure her guilt was probably eating her alive. He followed quickly behind, watching how she limped through the snow with a groan. He needed to take better care of her. He should have come for a horse, like he said he would. She deserved better than to hobble around the countryside.

“Thomas, run back and tell everyone we found her,” Burke ordered.

The lad at his side darted off, cupping his hands, and calling across the snow.

“Madeline! Are you hurt?” the duchess called again.

Burke stopped moving the light towards them, too intent on seeing that the duchess wasn’t left alone. He waited with one arm around her, the other holding up the lantern pole. “Bray, what the hell happened?” he barked. “Ramsay was back nearly two hours ago!”

“It was my fault,” Madeline called. “I fell on the path and twisted my ankle.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” The duchess reached out with her free hand.

Madeline collapsed against her. “I’m sorry I had you worried. I’m so sorry!”

Charles could hear the sincerity in her voice and his own guilt ate at him. He stiffened as he watched Burke put a protective hand on her shoulder, leaning down to cup her cheek and murmur words he couldn’t hear. He fought the urge to smack his hand away.

Burke gave her shoulder another squeeze. Then his gaze was back on Charles. “What happened, Bray?”

The duchess was busy giving Madeline a once-over, her hands cupping her face, her arms.

“It’s as Lady Madeline said,” he replied, unable to pull his eye from the man’s hand on Madeline’s shoulder. “She twisted her ankle. We were near Mr. Warren’s cabin, so he took us in, and we checked her ankle for injury.”

Burke’s scowl deepened. “Why didn’t you come ahead? Why not warn us? We could have come for her.” As he asked the questions, he shifted his weight, pulling Madeline closer to him.

Charles was now physically stopping himself from stepping forward. “I…”

“I asked him to stay,” Madeline said, placing a soothing hand on Burke’s chest. “I don’t know Mr. Warren well and-and I was uncomfortable with Charles leaving. And Mr. Warren had just sat down to dinner,” she added quickly. “He shared what little he had with us, and then we returned.” She spun back to the duchess. “Rosalie, I’d like to thank him. He was ever so generous.”

“I’m sure he was,” Burke muttered, his eyes still on Charles.

Charles did his best to hold his gaze. Both men relayed the truth with their eyes.

James told me everything, said Burke.

I know, was Charles’s defiant reply. What else could be said?

“Of course,” the duchess soothed, turning away with Madeline on her arm. “Come, let’s get you inside and off that foot. That’s all that matters now. And we’ll call for Doctor Rivers—”

“No,” Madeline urged. “That’s not necessary. Rest is all I need.”

“Then you shall have it. And that’s quite enough of you walking out of doors. Come. Home and bed and rest.” She started leading the way back.

Madeline followed dutifully at her side.

“Come, Bray,” Burke added. “James wanted to speak to you about the day’s events.”

Charles stifled a groan, adjusting his hat. “I should really get back to the parsonage. I need to check on my uncle. Can you tell James I’ll stop by first thing in the morning?”

Burke glared at him, glancing over his shoulder to track the progress of Rosalie and Madeline across the snow. The ladies had already been joined by two more lads toting lantern poles. He dared to close the distance between them, his boots crunching in the snow. He stopped a few feet away, the lantern casting ominous shadows over his cowled face.

“We know she proposed to you,” he said. “We know you haven’t given her an answer. And we know about you and Warren.”

Charles stiffened, meeting the man’s steely-eyed glare. “And I assume you have a warning for me?”

“Aye, I do. That girl is the closest thing Rosalie has to family,” he said, pointing with a thumb over his shoulder. “And Rosalie is my family. So, know that when I speak, I speak for her.”

Charles sighed. “Just say what you need to say, Burke.”

“Right, here’s the threat then: break Madeline’s heart, and I’ll break your goddamn legs. And my vengeance will be a blessing compared to what would happen to you if Tom were home. He dotes on that girl like his own sister. In his eyes, she’s a little china doll that Rosalie gets to pet and care for and love.”

Charles bristled, still fighting the urge to punch the man for putting his hands on her. “And you think I won’t care for her?”

“I’m sure you will, Bray,” Burke countered. “But I know John Warren as well as I know myself. And he doesn’t play with china dolls. He fucks them. Keep letting your wife-to-be get closer to him and watch what happens. You don’t seem like the sharing type.”

Charles made a sound low in his throat. “I’ll ask you not to use that kind of language in reference to Lady Madeline again. If she does become my wife—”

“If he says,” Burke huffed. “So, you still haven’t decided then? You’re a goddamn fool. Well, you better decide before Warren takes your choice away. And I have to say this: marriage to a penniless vicar will be a hard sell to the ton. But Rosalie and Madeline are determined to have you, Bray.”

He groaned, shaking his head. “I know.” He glanced hopelessly at the steward. “Can you not dissuade them? Can you not…redirect them?”

Burke huffed a laugh. “Would that I could. But when the duchess makes up her mind, there’s no changing it. Madeline is nearly as bad,” he added under his breath.

“I know,” he muttered. He may not know the lady well, but her tenacity was already an old friend.

“Madeline takes a serious risk in marrying you, Bray. But Marriage to a gamekeeper will see her cast out in the cold forever. Is that really the future you want for her?”

“You’re mad,” Charles said with a laugh that was utterly devoid of mirth.

“Am I?” he challenged with a raised brow. “So, there’s no reality, then, where you could see Warren swooping in and wooing her out from under you? He doesn’t share either, and Rosalie says they have quite the chemistry.” Burke let that sentiment hang in the quiet air between them.

Was that true? If anyone had asked Charles that same question one day ago, he would have laughed them off. No, John Warren did not share his lovers. He was possessive and domineering. He liked to own, to control.

So why then was he content to stand back and watch Charles bury his tongue in Madeline’s sweet mouth?

Fuck, if he didn’t clear his mind, he was going to get a cockstand before Mr. Burke.

“Nothing happened,” he said quickly. “Warren was…nothing happened between them.”

“Yeah, well, keep wandering down certain snowy paths, and nothing will quickly turn into something.”

Charles bristled. “You think so little of our honor, sir?”

You’re a goddamn hypocrite. A godless heathen.

He ignored the voice.

“Do whatever you want with your honor,” Burke said with a wave of his hand. “And do what you want with Madeline too.”

Charles narrowed his eyes. “You’re an odd kind of chaperone, sir.”

Burke just laughed. “Don’t mistake me, Bray. I’m not her father nor her brother. And I’m certainly not a fastidious member of your order who thinks one ought to wait until marriage to enjoy carnal relations. If the partner enthusiastically consents, that’s all that matters to me. But by all the gods, be more discreet. And don’t you dare ride that girl without a letter, Bray,” he added, leveling a finger in his face. “Get her pregnant before you wed, and I will drag you down the aisle myself. And you’ll have to be dragged because—”

“I know, I know. You’ll break my goddamn legs,” Charles said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. But Burke outranked him and, well, he was quite a bit larger too.

Burke smirked. “By George, I think he’s got it.”

“Are we finished here? My feet are bloody freezing.”

Burke nodded. “We’re finished. But do come see James tomorrow. He really does want to know about the status of the families.”

Charles returned his nod. “I’ll come early. Just after breakfast.”

As he turned to leave, Burke called out.

“And Bray…”

He glanced back over his shoulder.

“See me too before you go, after you see James. I have an idea to put to you.”

He laughed. “You can’t just tell me now?”

“No,” Burke replied, already turning away. “I want to leave you in suspense,” he called over his shoulder. “And I want to get back inside before my damn cock freezes off!”

The sound of their shared laughter floated across the snow as they parted ways.