Alcott Hall: Second Sons Book Three

“Please, James. For Madeline’s sake—” Rosalie urged.

“Absolutely not.” His arms were crossed, his expression murderous.

She placed a hand on his arm, Burke standing just behind, still holding the baby. “But her parents will come and take her away. She’ll lose her chance—”

“And I am very sorry for Madeline, but I will not lie to a constable.”

“I would never ask you to,” said Madeline, rising to her feet. “Rosalie, I can’t ask for more help than you’ve already given me. My parents were bound to find me eventually. It was foolish to think this plan would ever work.”

“Quite right,” James muttered. “You know, this is what comes from acting before you think, which is a personality trait all three of you apparently hold in common. We can only hope our precious G will take after me.”

Burke snorted. “Don’t hold your breath. If Tom has his way, she’ll be a swashbuckling pirate like Anne Bonny.”

“You’re not helping,” replied James.

“Do I ever?” Burke parried, content to jiggle Little G until she cooed again.

Rosalie ignored their banter, eyes still only for James. “But if you make her go now, her parents won’t let her see Bray again. They’ll not let her marry him. She needs more time, James. A day. An afternoon.” She spun around. “Go to him now, Madeline. Go to the parsonage and tell him he must decide.”

She shook her head, heart racing. “I’ve already made him my offer,” she replied. “He said he needs more time—”

“But he cannot accept if your parents drag you off and lock you away inside Blaire House,” Rosalie countered. “Even I will not be able to get you out again. It is quite literally now or never!”

From the doorway, the butler cleared his throat.

All four of them turned to face him.

“What is it, Lawson?” James called.

“Your Grace, I believe the constable is merely here to inquire as to her whereabouts. The duchess was clear that none in this house were to speak of her presence to anyone beyond these walls.”

“So, he doesn’t know she’s here,” Rosalie said on a breath, dark eyes wide with excitement.

“The only two people with the authority to speak definitively about any guest staying at Alcott Hall are in this room, Your Grace,” Lawson replied with a nod.

“Oh, goddamn it,” James muttered under his breath.

At the same time, Rosalie spun back to him, clinging to his arm. “James, please. I’ll never ask you for anything again.”

“Don’t you dare try to make that kind of oath with me. You’ll not hold to it past lunch.”

“I’ll cancel the Christmas ball.”

“I was canceling that anyway,” he replied, pulling away from her.

“I will…let you skip the next three luncheons of the Royal Philharmonic Society.”

“Not good enough,” he growled, stepping around her.

“Four luncheons!”

He kept walking.

“Damn it, James. I…I’ll take down the painting of the ugly knight with the uglier horse!” she called after his retreating form.

James stilled as Burke laughed. “Oh, she’s playing to win now, James.”

Madeline’s gazed darted between the three of them, barely able to keep up.

James spun around, a sharp finger pointed at his wife. “If this is a bloody trick. If you go back on this—”

“I won’t,” Rosalie said, her expression utterly solemn.

“I hate that goddamn painting.”

“I know.”

“I have to see it every fucking morning the moment I leave our room.”

“I know.”

He raised a doubting brow. “You will break George’s heart?”

“Yes.”

“He loves that painting. Loves how much I hate it.”

“Which is why I will put it in a place of honor above his bed in the east wing, where it belongs,” she replied. “I’ve enjoyed teasing you with it for long enough. Down it goes. Only, help Madeline first.”

With a growl he turned away again, dragging both hands through his hair.

Rosalie took a step forward. “James—”

But the duke spun around. “Right. Madeline, come. Burke, give us your coat.”

Madeline gasped, carried away by the strength of the duke’s hand on her arm. He pulled her towards the window. Behind her, Burke handed the baby off to Rosalie, asking no questions as he slipped out of his handsome brown morning coat trimmed with black velvet lapels. He followed them to the window, handing it off to Madeline.

She panted, watching the duke unlatch the window. “James, what—”

“You have to go,” he said. “Put Burke’s coat on. It’s quite cold out.”

She shrugged into the massive coat without a second thought. Beneath the coat she was dressed in nothing but a thin pair of wool stockings and a butter yellow dress trimmed with white lace. She slipped a hand under her long blonde tresses, pulling them free of the coat. “I don’t understand.”

Rosalie stepped forward with the baby nestled in her arms. “James, is this really necessary?”

“Yes, it bloody well is necessary,” he barked. “Madeline, you need to get out. Stay hidden.”

She gasped. “Out? But—”

“Run to the stables and lock yourself in a stall,” he ordered. “You’ll stay plenty warm there. Speak to no one, understand? Burke will come find you when the coast is clear.”

“But why?” called Rosalie.

James rounded on her. “Because I am about to go speak to a constable who will ask me on behalf of a pair of worried parents if I have any information as to the whereabouts of their missing child. And I need my conscience to be at least a little bit clear when I say that, to the best of my knowledge, Lady Madeline Blaire is not in this house!”

With that, the Duke of Norland unceremoniously shoved Madeline out the window into a fresh bank of snow.