Beautiful Things: Second Sons Book One

Christ, Rosalie was just as beautiful as he remembered. Her eyes went wide as she found him in the doorway. They practically glowed in the candlelight, her cheeks flushed from dancing. He longed to go to her immediately, but jealousy coiled in his gut. He saw the way she was looking at Burke. The lust in her eyes, that open longing. Were they even trying to hide it anymore? What else had changed in the two days he was away?

Burke followed her gaze, spinning on his heel.

“Renley! Good god man, come in,” James called, stepping forward to shake his hand. “Have you eaten?”

“Aye, I stopped at my brother’s on the way in and begged some scraps. I didn’t want to interrupt your dinner.”

“Rest easy ladies,” George called to the room. “Your handsome sea captain has returned from journeys afar, ready to whisk you all onto the dance floor. Who’s first then? How about you, Red?” he laughed, flashing a smile at Elizabeth.

Burke stepped forward, offering his hand and a smile. “Back so soon? You must be dead on your feet.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “The journey was most invigorating.”

“Not too tired to dance, I hope,” James muttered. “I don’t know that you’ll escape before you’ve danced at least a few sets. The ladies are ravenous tonight.”

Tom couldn’t help the eye that slipped over to where Rosalie stood. “Well, we must sate their hunger.”

George laughed. “Take a swig of something fortifying and get back to your stations, gentlemen. I can’t balance all these birds in one hand…much as I might wish to,” he added.

As George moved away, Tom tried to grab the elbows of Burke and James. “We need to talk,” he muttered.

James pat his shoulder again. “Let’s just get through this and we can talk later.”

Burke was still being stoic, which was unlike him. Christ, what happened?

“Right then, gentlemen, line up if you please. Ladies, be ready to fight for a partner. Ground rules first: no eye-gouging, or left hooks—”

“George,” James growled in warning.

Tom couldn’t help but laugh. George at least was in excellent spirits tonight. It was then that he noticed the presence of a new lady among the group. Bloody hell, two of the same lady. Was he drunk? He’d only had a glass of claret with dinner.

James caught his confused gaze. “Ah, Renley, you haven’t met the Nash sisters. This is…Pruu—”

“Piety, my lord,” the closer twin said with peals of laughter. “My sister Prudence is at the piano.”

“Miss Nash, this is First Lieutenant Tom Renley,” James added.

Miss Nash sized Tom up in a way that made him feel quite exposed. “Well then, Lieutenant. Do you have a pair of wobbly sea legs, or can you spin a lady about the room?”

“I can dance, Miss Nash.”

“Excellent,” she cooed, curling her arm around his. “You shall be my partner for the next two dances. Prudence, play the Virginia Reel!”

Tom was dragged into place at the top of the set next to George and Blanche. Down the set he saw Burke paired with Madeline, while James stood across from Olivia. Rosalie stood at the end of the set, partnered with Sir Andrew. He lost himself in the music, letting himself spin his new partner round. It was a proper reel where every man danced with every lady. He waited until it was time to pull Rosalie into his arms.

“You’re back,” she called over the clapping, wide smile on her face.

“I told you I’d come back,” he replied, loving the feel of her in his arms.

The moment was over too soon, and he was back leading Miss Nash down the line of dancers. It took a few more turns before it was Rosalie dancing down the middle with Sir Andrew. The poor man was a sport, but dancing was not his forte. His brow was already glazed with sweat. Rosalie spun round him and reached for Tom with both hands.

“You had a pleasant trip, I hope?” she said, still all smiles.

“I accomplished my goal—”

Those were all the words they could exchange before she was twirling away again.

When the reel finally ended, he clapped with the others and readied to lead his partner off the floor.

“You promised me a second dance, sir,” Miss Nash said, fluttering those lashes at him. “Or if not me, allow me to take my sister’s place at the piano.”

He had no reason to refuse so found himself nodding, even as his eyes trailed to where Rosalie now stood in the corner, patting the shoulder of the wheezing Sir Andrew.

The other Nash sister swept forward, putting herself between Tom and his view of Rosalie. “Well, Lieutenant Renley, if you are not the handsomest man I’ve ever seen—”

“That’s quite enough of that talk,” George barked, pushing his way in. “Renley may be a handsome devil, but I’m a filthy rich one,” he said in the lady’s ear.

She giggled and batted his arm playfully away. “Your Grace should know better than to try to woo a lady with riches. We are far too principled to have our heads turned by such banality. Give me good humor and a lively conversationalist…and make him a divine dancer if possible. This I pray, dear Lord.” She mocked crossing herself and folded her hands in prayer with a wink.

Christ Almighty, these Nashes were born to flirt. Tom felt like he was being swept away on a strong current, utterly powerless to stop or change course.

“I’m taking this one, Renley,” George said, a fire in his eyes. “Find another partner.”

She squealed as George took hold of her by both hands and spun her into the middle of the room, nearly knocking over the Swindons. Tom made his escape, moving across the room to try to catch Rosalie alone. The timing was perfect, as Sir Andrew had found himself a chair and was still fanning his sweaty face. Tom crossed behind the pushed-back sofa only to find his way blocked by Burke.

“You came back sooner than we expected,” he said.

Tom tried to gauge his mood. “And that displeases you?”

“Not at all,” Burke replied. “You noticed the new additions?”

“Did I ever,” Tom said with a forced laugh, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they were both safely distracted—one behind the piano, one in George’s overly familiar embrace. “I’ve seen tempests act with more subtlety.”

Burke smirked. “It’s caused a bit of an uproar. None of us quite understood why the duchess invited them…or we didn’t until now. They work fast, don’t they? George always did love novelty.”

“However will he pick just one?”

“You seem…better,” Burke hedged, those grey eyes studying him. “London went well for you? You’re happy?”

Tom sighed. “Are we not friends? Ask me plainly what you want to know.”

Burke’s jaw clenched tight. “Did you propose to her?”

Before Tom could respond, the Miss Nash at the piano plinked out several loud chords. “Places everyone, next up is the Cotillion! Four sets of partners at the ready!”

Burke groaned. Tom knew well how much Burke disliked dancing, but there were far too few men to sit out even one set.

“Later,” Tom said, turning away to find three pairs of eyes watching him expectantly. “Miss Mariah, will you do me the honor?”

The girl nearly burst with excitement and almost tripped over her skirts in her rush to step up and take his hand. Burke followed behind him with the elder Swindon on his arm. James was the last to join the set with Blanche.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Rosalie sitting between the duchess and Madeline on the sofa. It was impossible to miss the feel of Rosalie’s eyes on him each time his back was turned. But why would she not meet his gaze?

The dance was lively, and Tom only missed the steps twice. It had been a while since he danced a Cotillion. As the group broke apart, he made a second attempt to go to Rosalie. This time, his way was blocked by James handing him a glass of port.

“So, how’s the family?”

Tom sighed with frustration, taking the glass. “My brother is fine. He complains of a rheumatism. Agatha is expecting again, had I told you?”

“No…Christ, that’s how many now?” James said, brow furrowed.

“This will be number seven,” Tom replied.

“Seven children. Poor Agatha,” James muttered.

“Perhaps she’d not have quite so many if she wasn’t so much a fan of the method,” Tom said into his glass.

James barked a laugh. “I guess not.”

Tom set his glass aside, done with this charade. “James, why are the two of you determined to see me cut off from Rosalie? What happened that I cannot go speak to her?”

Unlike Burke, who may have attempted another round of denial, James had the good sense to say, “We should talk first…before you go saying anything you’ll regret.”

Tom frowned, glancing over to where Burke watched them from across the room. He was only pretending to be in conversation with Sir Andrew. The happiness and confidence Tom built on his journey back from Town was slowly ebbing away like sand through his open fingers. “What the hell happened while I was gone?”