Beautiful Things: Second Sons Book One

Burke stood still as stone. This couldn’t be real. He wouldn’t let himself believe it. To have Rosalie in his grasp, only to lose her…and lose her like this? Christ, she was going to do more than cut off his fingers. He’d be lucky to walk away with legs.

“Mother, you can’t be serious,” said James from his side.

“When am I ever not serious, James?” she replied.

“But Lady Olivia is…”

“The absolute fucking worst,” George provided, still smiling like an imp.

“I never agree with George on principle,” James added, “but in this instance I do. Mother, she’s far too impressed with her own opinion of herself to ever accept Burke.”

“Well, she’s already agreed, so your point is moot, James,” the duchess replied.

“And if I say no?” Burke asked, finding his voice at last.

The duchess turned an imperious glare on him. “Why on earth would you refuse? In one fell swoop, I have secured for you wealth, respectability, a title, and a wife.”

“But I don’t love Olivia—”

“Oh, pish tosh,” the duchess scoffed. “What is love in a marriage? Absolutely worthless. Besides, just because there is no feeling of love now, doesn’t mean you cannot win her over. You are just what a husband ought to be. Why should she have cause to complain?”

“Perhaps because I am the bastard son of a nobody with a literal whore for a mother,” Burke replied.

“I thought your mother retired,” said George, brow raised in curiosity.

“Not the point, George,” James growled. He turned on his mother. “How did you even manage it? Why would Olivia ever agree to this?”

When the duchess made no immediate reply, Burke’s heart sank with foreboding.

James shared his anxiety. “Christ, mother…what did you do?”

The duchess just sniffed. “It is enough that the deal is struck.”

“Oh, fuck…” James whispered.

Burke had already worked it out too. He exchanged a look of horror with James.

“You’re blackmailing her,” said James. “You’re using the mess with George as leverage.”

Burke felt sick.

“Oh James, don’t be such a ninny,” she said. “Olivia knew exactly what she was doing. This is hardly the first time a woman has played the game of politics and lost. Now, she must pay the price.”

Burke was beyond horrified. “And I am to be her punishment for the rest of her life?”

“That remains for you to decide,” she replied. “If you are the gentleman I raised, you will manage to charm your new wife—”

“I won’t do it. I thank you for your pain and trouble, but I refuse.”

The duchess’ eyes flashed with some hidden fire, even as they remained deeply blue. “You don’t get to refuse me. The deal is struck. The marchioness is waiting for you even now to shake hands on the matter.”

“Mother, surely we can delay,” James hedged. “Let this be George’s night. We can return to the matter of Burke’s engagement in a fortnight—”

“Don’t you dare try to handle me,” she snarled. “If we let this worm slip the hook, we shall never find Burke such another brilliant match—”

“Christ’s sake, let her slip the hook,” James cried. “Would you see him trapped?”

“A fair question,” George said with a raise of his hand. “One I echo for myself—”

“Enough!” The duchess squared her shoulders at the three of them. “George, Burke, you will both do your duty.” She narrowed her eyes on Burke. “I secured you this match, and you will cease your whining and see it through…or you will leave.”

Burke stepped back as if hit.

“Mother,” James said, a warning note in his tone. “You cannot kick him out. He is here at my pleasure, not yours.”

“And you are here at my pleasure,” she hissed. “You are not the duke, James. You are a guest in your brother’s home. In my home, for I am still Duchess of Norland. Test me on this, and you will see how little power you truly wield. If you choose to side with Burke, you can pack your bags and be out with him at morning light.”

James rounded his shoulders, ready to fight back, but Burke grabbed him by the arm. “James, don’t. Please. Not on my account.”

The duchess raised her chin. “George, go now and propose. We’ll announce it at dinner. Burke, if I see you leave this room and do anything but walk straight over to the marchioness and shake her hand, I’ll instruct Reed to begin packing.”

“Mother—”

She raised a hand. “This is what I want, James, and I always get what I want.”

“He will hate you for this,” James said. “And so will I.”

“He can hate me,” she replied. “But that won’t stop me from caring for him the only way I know how. The way I have always cared for him…for all of you.” With that, she turned and left.

George gave them both a sympathetic look. “That was ghastly unpleasant.”

“George,” James begged. “You are the duke; she is merely the dowager. You can countermand her with a word.”

“I don’t know…she seems set on her course,” George said, rubbing his neck. “And it’s hardly the first political marriage. You’re both too principled for your own good.”

“George, please,” Burke murmured. “I’ve never asked you for anything.”

George gave him a curious look and sighed. “You’re in love with the Harrow girl too, aren’t you?”

Too? Burke flinched. Christ’s sake, George knew. Of course, he did.

“I don’t get it,” George muttered. “I mean, I see the attraction, obviously. But she’s so…” He mimed an oddly strained face. “What do you both see in her?”

“Leave it alone, George,” James warned.

“You’re asking for my help. I assume it’s so you can snare Miss Harrow instead—”

“No,” James replied.

“She doesn’t want to be snared,” Burke added under his breath. “And this isn’t about Rosalie. It’s about doing right by Olivia and not trapping her in a marriage that will make us both miserable.”

“Will you help us?” James pressed.

George groaned. “You know how I hate to take sides. You heard mama…she put in all that work. And it would make you a baron, Burke.”

“I don’t care about being a fucking baron,” he replied. “I’m happy with my life. I’m happy here.”

George raised a brow. “Here where you can fuck mama’s ward and live free of responsibility?”

Burke tensed. “It’s not like that.”

“It seems exactly like that from where I’m standing,” George replied. “I think if I have to grow up, we all must. It might do you good to marry—”

“Please, George,” he said again. “Not like this.”

“I’ll think on it,” George replied at last. “I make no promises, mind. I don’t want you thinking you can just push me around and get your way. I’m my own man,” he finished with a determined glare.

“Of course, you are,” James replied.

George tossed him a scowl. “Fuck off, James. I don’t need you patronizing me.”

“I only meant—”

“You’re not part of this. This is between me and Burke. I’ll make up my own mind and thank you to keep your mouth shut. You heard mama, you’re a guest here.”

James bristled, but said nothing. That alone was proof for Burke what James was willing to do to help him. In any other situation, if George talked to James that way, they’d already be brawling on the floor.

George left, closing the door with a snap.

“This won’t happen,” James said as soon as they were alone. “I won’t let this happen.”

Burke just stood there, staring at the spot by the piano where, not an hour ago, he had been on his knees before Rosalie. “I need to talk to her,” he muttered.

“Olivia? I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We need a plan first—”

“Not Olivia. Rosalie. I have to tell her. Have to warn her.”

James tensed. “I don’t think—”

“I have to tell her. Now.”

James’ eyes searched his face. “Something happened. What did you do?”

Burke growled. “Do you really want to stand here talking about where and how I touched her, or do you want to go get her for me, so I can warn her that I’m about to shatter her happiness into a million fucking pieces? And all because fucking George had to go dragging Olivia into his bed, and you had to go dragging Rosalie into stairwells.”

James bristled, eyes murderous. “I had nothing to do with that—”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“And you didn’t tell me about tonight—”

“Because it just fucking happened!” Burke roared. “Just now, in this very room. She told me she loved me, and I shoved my tongue in her cunt right next to the goddamned piano. That was before I fucked her where you’re standing.” His shoulders sagged as he turned away. “She told me she loved me and that I was hers…and now I get to go tell her that Olivia Rutledge is going to be mine…unless I want to leave the only home I’ve ever known.”

“Burke—”

“Don’t fucking pity me,” he snarled. “Just go get Rosalie so I can tell her that she’s lost me before she even had me.”

After a few moments of silence, James spoke. “Here’s what we’ll do. You will go now and shake the marchioness’ hand—”

“But—”

“They don’t want this marriage to happen any more than you do,” James reasoned. “They’re being blackmailed, remember? If anything, Olivia can be a useful ally in our quest to stop my mother from waging war on the marquess.”

Burke saw the sense in this strategy.

“Go to the marchioness and let her know you intend to break the engagement. Mother won’t announce it tonight. She won’t want to detract from George. We still have time.”

“But Rosalie—”

“I’ll go find Rosalie and bring her back here. Come as soon as you can.”

Burke nodded, feeling the pieces of the plan fall into place. He turned to leave.

“And Burke,” James called.

Burke glanced over his shoulder.

“If it all falls apart, if mother kicks us out…I’m still a viscount. I have my own accounts and holdings separate from the estate. We’ll move to Town. We’ll be fine.”

Burke’s heart swelled at James’ use of the collective ‘we.’ It was the olive branch he needed. Despite it all, James was still resolutely on his side. He nodded and went in search of Lady Gorgon.