Beautiful Things: Second Sons Book One

The next two days passed in a whirlwind. Rosalie hardly had a moment to herself as the duchess kept her busy preparing for the ball. It was exciting work, and Rosalie found a kind of pleasure in feeling at home enough to speak a command and have it followed. She finalized menus, prepared dance cards, and toured the greenhouses to inspect the flower shipments with the duchess. They opened the ballroom to have all the sconces and chandeliers prepared with eight-hour waxes.

On Wednesday, the musicians arrived, and Rosalie got to oversee their rehearsal. A few of the other girls slipped in, and before long they were taking turns reeling around the wide-open space. There were no gentleman for dancing because the last of the shooting had all the men in the heather, bagging as many birds as they could before the season closed.

Even with all the distractions, Renley and Burke were as attentive as they could be…without drawing unwanted attention. On the first night, Renley escorted Rosalie into the dining room, leaning in as they passed through the door to whisper, “You look beautiful tonight.” As he lowered her to her chair, he gave her hand a squeeze and winked.

She stilled, her gloved hand closing around a hidden slip of folded paper. She dropped her hand to her lap, fist clenched tight, watching as he walked away. She opened the piece of paper under the table and read:

I still taste you on my tongue

Heat flooded her core as she glanced up, trying to meet his eye. But Renley was turned away, dutifully pretending to listen as Elizabeth told an animated story that involved many a flutter of her lashes. It gave Rosalie no small thrill to think that she held sway over this man, that he could speak to Elizabeth and yet be thinking of her.

From across the table, Burke met her gaze and smiled. She took a deep breath, trying to control the fluttering of her heart. She needed to feel their kisses again…and soon.

But it was impossible to even contemplate getting them alone, for the house was bursting with people. From morning to night, additional staff hurried everywhere—footmen carrying trays, maids dusting everything, laborers moving furniture and rolling up rugs, men from town with endless deliveries. It was usually all Rosalie could do to stay out of their way.

Not to mention the new wave of guests arriving each day who were privileged enough to stay in the house the night before and after the ball. On Wednesday morning, the stately Duchess of Somerset arrived with her comely spinster sister. Shortly before dinner, Madeline’s father arrived, the large and imposing Viscount Raleigh. He shared a carriage down from Town with the Earl of Waverley. By luncheon Thursday, another viscount and his countess joined the party, along with a few other aristocrats and friends. By Thursday dinner, the house party had grown from sixteen to thirty-six.

Rosalie actually enjoyed herself at dinner, seated as she was between Madeline and a friendly young man named Charles Bray. He was the nephew of Mr. Selby. Apparently, the Corbins were supporting his education at Cambridge.

“So, you will graduate in the spring and what comes next for you, sir?” she asked, taking another sip of her white soup.

“I hope to be assigned a position,” he replied. “I’ve never been much for city life. A little parish in the country would suit me quite well.”

“And how shall you like making sermons?”

He smiled, tasting his wine. “Oh, this is very good,” he murmured, enjoying another sip. “A man in my position can’t really afford not to have a position, Miss Harrow. Second son and all that,” he said with a wave of his hand.

She stifled a smile. She was well aware of the responsibilities of second sons. She glanced across the table, feeling Burke’s eyes on her. She gave him a little smile that he did not return. His jaw was tight, his mouth a thin line. He was seated next to Olivia, so Rosalie could only imagine the gorgon was making him miserable. She gave him a sympathetic look before turning her attention back to Mr. Bray.

“But what about you, Miss Harrow? How are you connected to the Corbins?”

“My mother was friends with the duchess,” she replied. “They grew up together in Richmond.”

“Well, you’re a long way from home.”

“Oh no, I live in Town now,” she explained. “My aunt keeps a flat in Cheapside.”

“Cheapside, eh? You must be quite a fish out of water in this set,” he said, his eye trailing around the gaudy opulence of the room.

“Well, I…”

“I mean no offense,” he added, leaning in. “I’m miserably awkward at these events. Poor Uncle Selby always invites me, and I always leave feeling as though I’ve been beaten about the head with a stick. It’s a relief to talk to someone who actually looks me in the eye and doesn’t judge me for my secondhand dinner clothes.”

She smiled. “I fully understand you, sir. Most of these ladies wear their diamonds to breakfast.”

They both laughed.

By the time the dinner ended, Rosalie was contentedly chatting between Madeline and Mr. Bray. Even Madeline seemed taken in by his easy charm. It warmed Rosalie to watch her smile and laugh with confidence, asking him questions and following his stories.

The duchess led the way to the drawing room. As the ladies crossed the hall, Rosalie grabbed Madeline’s hand. “Make my excuses, and I’ll go slip into the library and fetch that book you mentioned to Mr. Bray,” she said in a whisper.

Madeline’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Rosalie, don’t—”

“You can give it to him when the gentlemen come to the drawing room.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she replied on a blush.

“Oh, yes you can,” Rosalie said, giving her hand a squeeze. “I think he’s lovely, and you get on so well. It doesn’t have to come to anything,” she added when she sensed Madeline’s hesitation. “Just have a little fun. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Madeline frowned. “I’m not sure if you’re proving to be a good friend or a bad one.”

Rosalie laughed. “Stick with me, and you’ll learn that sometimes it’s good to be bad,” she said with a sly wink.

Madeline groaned and let her go.

Rosalie retrieved a candle from a footman and slipped into the dark library, making her way over to the section reserved for novels. She held out the candle, reading the spines of each book as her finger brushed over the cool leather. She smiled as she pulled free The Mysteries of Udolpho, the tale of a young maiden sent to live in a dark, mysterious castle. She was surprised by Mr. Bray’s interest in Gothic romance. She was equally surprised to learn Madeline was a voracious reader of the genre too.

“Looking for something, little siren?”

She turned with a smile to see Burke standing in the corner near the door. The man had a talent for entering a room unnoticed. With his dark hair and black evening clothes, the only thing she could see clearly was the white of his shirt and his crisply tied cravat. “What are you doing in here?” she whispered.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

His tone set her on edge. Heavens, but Olivia must have put him in a sour mood. “Did anyone see you?”

“Do you take me for an amateur?” He took a few steps closer. He wasn’t so much crossing the room towards her as he was stalking. She swallowed, unsure whether she was meant to feel frightened or excited by this feral display…perhaps both. “Why are you in here?” he repeated.

“We discussed a book at dinner with Mr. Bray.” She held up the leather-bound novel. “I just wanted to retrieve it before the gentlemen came through. Am I too late? You can’t possibly be done with your brandy yet.”

He closed the space until he was standing right before her. His pull was magnetic. The others may have upset him, but she knew she could bring a smile back to those beautiful lips. She set her candle and book aside and reached out to him with both hands. “What happened?”

He stepped back with a scowl, staying just out of reach. “Is Bray next then?” he growled.

She dropped her hands, feeling the sharp sting of his rejection. “Burke, tell me—”

“I said is Bray next?”

She blinked. “What are you—”

“I’m just trying to determine how many of us you will try to juggle,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Surely there must be a limit. Even George can’t manage more than four candlesticks at once.”

His full meaning hit her like a slap to the face. Her breath escaped in a gasp. “Oh…you devil.” She squared her shoulders at him, which still made her little more than a lamb before a lion. “Speak plainly, Burke. What is it you accuse me of?”

“I saw you at dinner,” he snarled. “I saw your simpers and your smiles, the way you leaned into his every laugh. Do you now intend to throw yourself at Charles Bray?”

“No, what you saw was me performing my duty by being perfectly cordial to a guest of the Corbins,” she countered, hands on her hips. “I spoke to him because it is the polite thing to do. I smiled because Mr. Bray is friendly. I laughed because he is funny. That doesn’t mean I plan to ‘juggle’ him as you so condescendingly put it.”

He scoffed. “Can you blame my confusion? You’ve made it clear you have no interest in us beyond the pleasure we give you. Am I wrong to think you would gladly add another man to your harem? Would you add this idiot Bray before you even consider James—”

“Stop,” she hissed. “I will not let you bully me. If Renley were here and heard you being so cruel, I’d like to think he would thrash you for it.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, but he said nothing.

“But I’m used to fighting my own battles,” she said. “I could never best you physically, so let me use words as my weapon. Burke, you do not own me. You will never own me. If you think to keep me in a cage, I will have to tell you I will die first.”

“Rosalie—”

“No, I am speaking,” she said, cutting him off with a heated look. “You insulted me. Once, I would have let you, and maybe even thanked you for it. Once, I let men hurt me. I accepted every cruel word, every vicious, cutting look. I handled tempers and rages. I took beatings in silence and—”

Burke’s countenance changed so fast it made her head spin. He stepped into her with a different kind of fire burning through him as he gripped her shoulders with both hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She shrugged away from him and raised her chin in steely defiance. “My life is no fairytale. My father was a monster. He blamed my mother for every setback, and he hated me. He liked to see me cry. You think you can tear me down with your petulant remarks? Throw my love back in my face the second you begin to doubt it? Well, you can go to hell. Anything you can think to try, Francis Harrow has already done. He broke me in every way you can imagine. I rebuilt myself stronger. So, go ahead and do your worst.”

“You can’t say these things to me,” he said, voice tight.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “And why not?”

“Because it makes me want to kill whoever hurt you,” he replied, leaning into her space, trying to claim her air. “Give me their names, and I’ll bring you their heads.”

Her stomach flipped, but she was too angry to give in. Had Renley not threatened to do the same? She was luring them too close. This was impossible. She had to put a stop to it. She snatched up the book and candle. “Don’t trouble yourself. You cannot kill a dead man, and I’m clearly not worth the effort.”

“Rosalie—”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she added, stepping past him, “but I was retrieving this book so Madeline could give it to Mr. Bray. It was she who recommended it at dinner. I think he might be perfect for her, so I am meddling, as any good friend would. Not for one second did I think of him for myself, because I imagined myself falling for you. But no man who calls me whore gets to call me his.”

“Rosalie, wait.” He caught up to her, reaching for her arm. “Please—”

“Don’t,” she hissed. “I am the jezebel who simpers at all men, remember? Surely you can have nothing left to say to me.”

“Rosalie—” He reached for her again, but she pulled away. “I was mad with jealousy. I was resentful and—fuck—I just want you so goddamn much. I feel like I can’t breathe—”

“None of that is my problem,” she said, sealing her heart behind a wall of stone. “Sort yourself out, Burke. I intend to accept the duchess’ offer whether you want me here or not.”

“I do—”

“And I intend to live my life exactly how I choose, without consideration from anyone else, least of all a man who uses the same pair of perfect lips to kiss me and curse me.”

“Rosalie…”

“Goodnight, Mr. Burke.” Without looking back, Rosalie left him standing in the dark. She just barely made it out the door before tears started falling down her face.