Alcott Hall: Second Sons Book Three

Her father stormed out of the room and Madeline felt her knees begin to buckle. In moments, Charles’s arm was around her waist, and he was seeing her to a chair.

“Christ Almighty, M, that was amazing!” cried Patrick, rushing forward. “You stood up to Uncle Richard! How did you learn to do that? Where—when did you learn to do that?”

Charles snatched up to her long-forgotten glass of whiskey, pressing it into her hand. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, cupping her cheek. “I’m sorry it happened like that. I never meant to do it quite so brazenly.”

“Do what?” said Patrick, leaning over the end of the sofa towards them. “What did you do?”

Madeline closed her eyes, shaking her head.

“Oh lord…” Patrick sucked in a breath. “Oh, you sneaky devils! You weren’t engaged yet, were you?! You just said that for the first time before Uncle Richard!” He gaped at them.

“Patrick, please,” she murmured. “Can you give us a moment?”

He blinked at her. “You want me to give you a moment unchaperoned with your intended? After Uncle Richard just reamed me about not being fit to look after an umbrella? I don’t think so, Miss M. I’m not going anywhere.” He snatched the glass of whiskey from her hand, draining it in two gulps and smacking his lips. “So…” He leveled his gaze at Charles. “Tell me about yourself, Mr. Bray.”

Charles was still on one knee before Madeline, his hand on the arm of her chair. “Excuse me?”

Madeline groaned. “Patrick…”

Charles glanced up at her. “Do you want him gone?”

“Hey,” Patrick huffed.

Madeline nodded.

“That’s not very familial of you,” Patrick warned.

But Charles wasn’t listening. To her surprise, he pressed himself between her legs, cupping her face with both hands. Pulling her closer, he kissed her with all his pent-up passion. Her breath caught, her hands going to his shoulders, then up his neck to weave into the soft curls at this nape.

“Oh, god—” Patrick said on a strangled groan, all but stumbling off the couch. “Can neither of you play bloody fair?”

Charles broke their kiss with a smile, calling over his shoulder at Patrick’s retreating form. “Go find an umbrella in need of your services!”

Madeline giggled, pulling him closer. “Don’t be cruel to him. He will be our only ally in the family.”

“I’ll apologize tomorrow,” he murmured, going in for another kiss. “I’m so sorry I just blurted it out like that. I’m sorry—”

She pulled back, moving her hands to cup his face. “But did you mean it, Charles?”

He nodded, his own hands sliding down the silk of her sleeves. “Every word. I should have said ‘yes’ the moment you asked me. I’ve been so…god, I’ve been such a mess. Returning to Finchley has not been easy for me. Dealing with my uncle, with seeing Warren again, the duke’s offer, then yours. I’ve felt like a spinning top.”

She smoothed her hands through his hair. “I didn’t do the proposal very well,” she admitted. “I was so nervous, so caught up in my own misery. I was careless with my words, and for that I cannot forgive myself.”

“You were honest,” he replied.

“I was selfish and scared, and you deserved better, Charles. I made the proposal about me. Even if all we ever were was friends, I should have considered your feelings better than I did.”

He smiled, leaning in to brush his lips against hers again. “Let us redo it now. You proposed to me in a rush of nerves, scared for what your future held. I just lied to your father and said I proposed to you when I had not. We have both erred.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes.

He took her hands, kissing each. Then he was gazing up at her with those beautiful amber eyes. “Madeline Blaire, I am in love with you—your passion, your rebellious spirit, your unfailing loyalty and kindness to your friends. I love you. More than that, I want you. I came in here to propose and then I saw you with your cousin. I was mad with jealousy. I was going to tear him apart because I want you. I want to love you, to possess you. I want you to be mine and no one else’s.”

Her breath caught as she worried her lip, meeting his gaze. “No one else’s…except Warren’s?” She raised a brow in hopefulness. “Charles, I love you, but I love him too. I want us all to be together. But if that’s not what you want—”

He silenced her, placing two fingers over her lips. “I want him too. He is as much a part of me as my own two lungs. You are both mine, Madeline. I will marry you both and love you both and never be parted from you again.”

She sighed with relief, nodding as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. They held each other, breathing in sync.

“Marry me,” he murmured, his hand brushing along her cheek. “Marry me, Madeline.”

She nodded again, tears in her eyes. “Yes. I will marry you, Charles. I want to be yours too. Marry me, and never let me go.”

They wrapped each other in their arms, their mouths finding each other as they kissed, trading smiles and soft murmurs of ‘I love you’. They hardly noticed when the door opened and Warren came in balancing a tray.

He paused, gazing down at them both. “The duchess was delivered of a little girl. They both live.”

Madeline sagged into Charles. “Oh, thank god, thank god!” She wrapped her arms around him, her shoulders wracked with sobs.

Charles held her as Warren crossed the room, setting down the tray of soup and bread. “Is the house busy?”

“No, the staff is all but in bed now,” Warren replied. “The doctor is being settled in a room down the hall from the duchess. It’s all quiet for now.”

“Good. John, lock the damn door,” Charles called. “We’ll have no more surprises or unwelcome visitors tonight.”

Warren moved back to the door, turning the latch. “What surprises? What visitors?”

Madeline pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “Umm…my cousin was here…and my father. He and Charles had a bit of a row.”

“He’s an arse,” Charles muttered.

Warren glanced between them again, “What happened?”

Madeline smiled, one hand still on Charles’s shoulder. “My father did not take kindly to the news that we are engaged.”

Warren stilled, his expression suddenly unreadable. “What did he do?”

“He accused Charles of being a gambler and a drunk, and a fortune hunter, I think…worst of all, he turned up his nose at Charles being a working man,” she replied.

“And then I may have threatened him with physical violence,” Charles said with a shrug.

“May have?” she cried. “You threatened to rend him into pieces.”

“You didn’t,” Warren said on a laugh.

“Aye, I did,” he replied. “It’s what you would have done,” he added with another shrug. “Actually, you would have done the violence. I merely made a threat.”

Warren shook his head. “And that all happened in the thirty minutes I was gone?”

Madeline nodded, waiting for him to say something…anything.

But the insufferable man just moved over to the fire, adding a log to the flames.

With a huff, Madeline slipped past Charles, rising to her feet. “You have no comment then, sir? Nothing to say at learning that Charles and I are engaged?”

“I am very happy for you both,” he replied, not turning around.

Behind her, Charles huffed, rising to his feet as well. “Now who is the bloody martyr?”

Warren turned, glaring at him.

“Don’t do this,” Charles warned. “Don’t ruin this now.”

“I don’t understand,” Madeline murmured, tears in her eyes as she glanced between the men, her gaze landing on Warren. “You wanted this. I thought you—we wanted this…did we not?” She stepped forward, watching him flinch. “We discussed it, John. You want your freedom. You don’t want to step into your father’s title or his money. You don’t want any of the pressure being a baronet brings. So, I must marry Charles.” She reached for him, hating the way he stiffened. “But to marry him is to marry you too. Can you now so suddenly have changed your mind?”

It was then that the harsh truth hit her with all the force of a slap to the face. She stumbled back. “Oh god…you don’t—you’ve never said it.” She shook her head, her mind racing back to their every encounter. “Not once. You…do you not feel the same for me? Is Charles the only one you want then? Am I coming between you rather than joining you?”

Warren growled, moving forward. He snatched her by the shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Tears filled her eyes as she gazed up at him, memorizing that jagged scar. “I…you’ve never said you love me. You’ve never even said you want to marry me. You said, ‘I’m still here.’”

He groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Madeline…”

“Is it because I’m a viscount’s daughter? A prim lady who never opens her own doors? You think we are too poorly suited—”

“You think I hesitate because you’re a viscount’s spoiled rotten daughter? You think I am reluctant to throw myself into this ménage because you don’t open enough doors?”

“Well, if that’s not it, then what—”

“I have nothing to offer you!” The words clearly came out without his permission because his groan and the shutting of his dark eyes made it clear he wanted them unsaid.

She shook her head. “I don’t understand—”

He laughed, dragging a hand through his long hair. “What can you possibly not understand about this? I have nothing to offer you, Madeline. Or you, Charles. I am utterly worthless, my pocket’s empty. What can I contribute?” He shook his head. “No, you are both better off without me. It was madness to think otherwise. You should marry and move to London, move into your grand townhouse. Leave Finchley and forget about me.”

Madeline sighed, shaking her head. Why were men so impossible?

But Charles was having none of it. He stepped forward, arms crossed. “Well, unfortunately for you, we intend to do the opposite. Tomorrow morning, I will marry Madeline, and you will be there as our witness. After breakfast, I will tell the duke that I accept his offer to become the Vicar of Finchley. Madeline and I will move into the parsonage. After a respectable number of weeks have passed, you will move in too, for we have decided to rent you a room. Seeing as you are such a longtime friend, and you’ve lived in the parsonage before, no one should bat an eye…especially when an accident befalls your cabin, and it tragically burns down.”

Madeline gasped, her gaze darting to Charles. “What—that’s brilliant, Charles.”

Charles smiled at her. “Yes, I thought it was rather good. It may take some twisting of the duke’s arm to delay with rebuilding.”

“Leave that to me,” she replied. “Burke owes us favors for the rest of his natural life. He will help us smooth this over, I’m sure of it. They all will. Their acceptance of our situation will assuage the rest of the village. They can protect us, just as we can protect them.” She turned back to Warren, waiting for him to speak.

He crossed his arms, his mouth set in a grimace. “So, you’ve both settled everything then? You just expect me to come when called, sleep in the guest room, and watch you be happily married?”

She sighed. “No, you frustrating man. I expect you to come when called, sleep in my bed every night, and watch as the three of us are happy together. And if you’re so concerned about joining this marriage with empty pockets, then here—”

She reached into her own pocket, pulling out the button she habitually carried since her first night with Mr. Tram. She opened her palm, showing him the button. “Consider it a wedding present. It’s all the dowry I have, thanks to my father’s wounded pride.”

He shook his head, gazing down at the officious offering.

She huffed, closing her fingers around the button, and stuffing it back in her pocket. “Then what is it? Let’s have it all out now. Why else do you suddenly delay?”

He stalked off, muttering under his breath.

“He’s fighting his feelings,” Charles muttered.

“Quiet,” Warren snapped at him.

“He’s not in control. He hates not being in control.”

“Shut up, Charles,” Warren growled, stomping forward.

Charles wasn’t cowed by his domineering presence. He tipped his head back, holding his gaze stare for stare. “He’s wearing his pride as armor, and it’s all my fault. I hurt him, and he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’ll push us both away now.”

Her heart raced in her chest. “John, please—”

Warren spun away, stalking off towards the corner muttering under his breath.

“Tell me what I must do to assuage your fears,” she called after him.

He spun around with a groan, looking desperately about the small library before pointing a finger at her. “You’re too anxious,” he muttered. “Hell, it makes me anxious. I’ll be sweating through my shirt and not know why, it’s bloody maddening.”

She blinked, taken aback. “I…yes, I am. But I’m working on that—”

“And you’re too meek,” he added. “It’s not enough for you to have opinions. You need to say them, own them with your whole chest.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, you can help set the example for me. I will follow your lead and learn to better speak how I feel without hesitation.”

“And you’re too…small.” He narrowed his eyes on her, his gaze tracing her from head to toe. “You need to eat more.”

She was fighting her smile now. This man was determined to fight being wanted. He didn’t know how to let someone love him, let alone two people. He was afraid to believe it, afraid to trust it. So, she just nodded. “You’re perfectly right. I shall add a second scone to my morning tea routine. Anything else?”

He rolled his eyes, his mouth set in a scowl. “Well…you kiss like a goddess, and you ride my cock like a queen on her throne, so at least you have that going for you.”

She crossed over to her, stopping herself right before him. “And now you need to say it.”

His jaw clenched tight, his dark eyes burning with need as he gazed down at her. He opened his mouth, only to shut it with a groan.

She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “John, say it.”

A moment stretched between them, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

Slowly, his gaze softened, and he was lifting a hand, brushing his fingers along her jaw. “I love you, Madeline.”

She sighed, eyes shutting tight as she nodded.

“I love you so much…it scares me,” he admitted. “I can’t love someone else like I love Charles. I lost him once. To think of losing him twice over…I will not survive it. I need you both like I need air—”

She stepped into his embrace, cupping his face. “John, I love you. You consume me. My thoughts never turn from you. From the moment we met, I was struck through the heart with love for you. It has spread throughout my whole being.” She stroked with her thumb, brushing it over the bottom edge of his scarred cheek. “There is no losing me, for I cannot dream of losing you. I am yours, John Warren, body and soul. Loving Charles feels utterly incomplete without loving you. Be with us. Be our husband.”

Warren glanced over at Charles, a question in his eyes.

Charles came to them, one hand going to each of their shoulders as he pressed in. He had eyes only for Warren. “You know I’m sorry. I could say it every day for the rest of our lives, and it would still never be enough. I will commit myself to showing you that I love you, proving myself with thought, word, and deed. I will take the position here in Finchley. I will marry Madeline. I will move heaven and earth to have you with us, John. And if the people here cannot accept us, I vow to find a place in this world where we can live in peace together. The three of us. Please say yes, John. Please be with us. Love us and marry us.”

Warren gazed down at him, tears in his eyes. Slowly he swallowed, sharing his darkest truth. “You cannot abandon me again.”

“Never,” Charles murmured, inching forward to kiss his lips. “Oh god, I swear it. Never again. You’re it for me, Johnnie. Let me back into your heart, and I will never stray again. Free me from the torment of not being yours. I’ll do anything.”

Warren narrowed his eyes, his large hand gripping Charles by the hair and giving him a sharp tug. A smile played at his lips as he murmured, “Show me.”

Without hesitation, Charles dropped to his knees.