His Grace, The Duke: Second Sons Book Two

“Where the hell can they be?” Burke growled. “It’s nearly midnight!”

He was pacing before the fireplace in the drawing room. He had been for over an hour. If he wasn’t careful, he might just wear a hole in the carpet. The ladies had all retired hours ago and James had dismissed the servants, so they were blessedly alone.

“We’re talking about George,” James replied. “There is quite literally no way to know where he might go or what he might do.”

Tom rose to his feet. “I can’t just keep sitting here.”

“Well, you can’t go wandering the streets calling her name either,” James replied. “Just sit down and wait. They’ll return soon and you’ll have your answers.”

Reluctantly, Tom paused halfway between the sofa and the door.

“You mean we will have answers,” Burke countered, turning on the carpet to face his friend. “Don’t pull back from this, James. Stay with us.”

James scowled, gesturing to his position on the chair. “I’m sitting right here, aren’t I?”

“You’re here, but you’re not here,” Burke replied. “Don’t shut us out, and don’t push her away. You must give her a chance to explain.”

“No one is saying we won’t,” Tom assured him.

Burke gave a curt nod, knowing he was saying the words for his own benefit as much as theirs. He was more unsettled now than he had been upon first learning Rosalie fled Alcott. At least then Burke knew she was with James, and thus safe. George was an entirely different story. Why the hell would Rosalie agree to leave with him?

It was the not knowing that was driving him mad. For the hundredth time that night, he dragged both hands through his hair. The sound he made in his throat was somewhere between a moan and a groan.

“Burke…come sit,” Tom said, voice low. He was back on the sofa.

But Burke couldn’t possibly sit still.

Rosalie Harrow burst into his life, swinging her left fist at that drunkard like any back-alley brawler, and Burke was lost. He should have dropped to his knees then and proclaimed himself hers. At this point, walking away from Rosalie was an impossibility. He wanted to be entangled in her in every way. Always. Not just her body—which was goddamn perfection—but her clever mind, her goodness, her resilient spirit. She was meant for him, and he for her.

He huffed. The Lord clearly had a sense of humor, for the woman who set Burke’s heart aflame was also an angsty, complicated, obstinate siren who was going to challenge him every day for the rest of his life.

“Did you hear that?” Tom muttered.

Burke spun to face the door. The sound of George’s muffled laughter had him on the move. If Tom and James were following him, he didn’t care. He burst through the drawing room door, leading the way to the entry hall. His heart clenched tight as he saw her, magnificent in her glittering evening gown. It reminded him of champagne, the way it caught the light like bubbles in a glass. George was removing his evening coat from around her shoulders. She glanced back at George as he said something too low for Burke to hear. Whatever he said made her laugh. The sound pierced Burke straight through the heart. He watched as George’s fingers brushed along her arms as he dragged the coat down.

Burke’s mind went blank as he launched himself across the entry hall. “Get your hands off her,” he growled.

George spun around. His eyes went from narrowed with a laugh to wide with surprise.

“Burke,” Rosalie cried. “Burke, no—”

His hands were within an inch of grabbing onto George’s waistcoat when a pair of thick arms wrapped around his shoulders, dragging him back.

“Easy, Burke. Leave him,” Tom panted.

In moments, James was on him too, hooking an arm around his middle. Together, the men held him back from George. The insufferable arse just laughed. He even took a half-step closer to Rosalie, who stood still as a statue, eyes wide with shock.

“Burke, what are you doing?” she cried.

“Didn’t I tell you, Cabbage? Your men waited dutifully for your return,” George jeered. “They’re such good little guard dogs. Such loyal chaps.”

Next to him, Burke felt James stiffen.

“Where the hell have you been?” James barked.

“Shh,” George replied, raising a finger to his lips and pointing up the stairs. “Do you want to wake the whole house?”

“Why did you take her?” Burke pressed.

“Take her?” George gave an affronted look as he turned to Rosalie. “Cabbage, did I take you against your will like a Saracen knight and drag you away to some unspeakable fate?”

“No,” she replied softly.

Tom and James loosened their hold on Burke, and he shrugged himself free.

“Someone better start talking,” James demanded. “Do you have any idea the damage you’ve both caused tonight? Do you know how hard it will be to keep it contained?”

“So then don’t,” George said with a shrug. “I can see it now: ‘Duke of Norland leaves boring concert early to attend to his business affairs, personal assistant assisted.’”

“That will not be the headline and you know it,” James countered.

“Don’t we own one of the papers? We can make it say whatever we want—”

“That is not the point!”

“Why own a paper if we can’t control what it prints?”

“Rose…” Tom’s deep voice cut through the brothers’ bickering. “Are you alright? Please just tell us that much.”

She met Tom’s gaze and several emotions flickered across her face at once. Burke tried desperately to read them. Longing, of course. She was mad for Tom, and he for her. Their chemistry was electric. But there was something more…resentment? Mistrust? She schooled her expression too fast for him to get a clear read.

“I’m fine,” she murmured.

Tom took another step closer, but George gave an exaggerated stretch and a yawn.

“Well, I’m beat. You,” he snapped his fingers at the footman. “Go get my valet. Have him meet me upstairs. I require a hot bath and a hot chocolate.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the footman replied, darting away down the hall.

George glanced at Rosalie. “Shall you be quite safe with them, Cabbage? Or shall I order the other footman to stay as your guard?”

“Why wouldn’t she be safe with us?” James snapped.

“Because after tonight it’s clear you three don’t know how to provide our Cabbage with the proper care she deserves,” George replied.

This sent Burke’s mind spinning like a top. What the hell happened at that concert?

“As her friend, I am heartily ashamed of you all,” George finished with a frown.

James huffed. “Since when are you two friends?”

“Since tonight,” George replied. “I made it part of her official ward duties.”

Burke groaned at the same time as James.

“That’s not how that works,” Tom muttered.

Rosalie was still looking at him strangely. Burke knew Tom had noticed from the way his hands were twitching to reach out for her. But he wouldn’t dare show that kind of tenderness in front of George and the servants.

“Rose…what happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, her expression closed off.

“Tonight, you left her to the wolves. That’s what happened.” George pointed a finger at each of them. “If any of you mean to deserve her, do better.” He gave her a quick peck on her temple. “Good night, Cabbage.” With that, he spun on his heel and headed for the stairs.

Finch, the remaining footman, glanced anxiously from George’s retreating form to James. “My lord, shall I…”

James frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Go to bed, Finch. It’s been a long night. Please have a maid meet Miss Harrow in her room.”

“Yes, my lord,” Finch replied, disappearing in the same direction as the other footman.

Burke was the first to turn to Rosalie.

“I need a drink,” she said quickly. Stepping around all three of them, she walked away towards the drawing room.

“You need to tell us what the hell happened tonight,” James called after her.

Burke put a warning hand on his shoulder. James was quickly losing his temper. “Go gently,” he muttered in James’ ear.

James shrugged him off.

The three of them entered the drawing room to find Rosalie at the sideboard, pouring herself a drink. Damn, but she looked beautiful in that dress.

“Rose, for the love of God, I’m dying here,” Tom said, crossing to her side. “What happened tonight?”

Her body was stiff. No playfulness, no romance. She turned to James. “Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“The gossip columns,” she replied.

James stiffened, saying nothing.

“You did then,” she murmured, taking a small sip of gin. “Were you ever going to tell me the papers were writing about us?”

“Whatever George told you, I guarantee you it is not that bad,” James hedged. “It was a few articles in some of the rags.”

“The papers love to make trouble,” Tom added gently. “It will pass in a few days. George was wrong to stir you up like this.” Reaching out, he brushed her shoulder with gentle fingers.

She shifted away from his touch. “George only confirmed it for me.”

A stone sank in Burke’s stomach. This was bad…

“Then who told you?” James pressed.

Rosalie’s eyes didn’t leave Tom’s face. “Your darling friend…Mrs. Young.”

Goddamn it, Burke was going to bury that scheming bitch!

Tom reached for her again. “Rose, I’m so sorry—”

She stepped away, holding her little glass of gin like a shield. “Yes, she cornered me with a few of her lovely friends. They said the most horrid things.”

Burke turned his fury on Tom. “Where the hell were you? We agreed you would be the buffer tonight! You were to stay by her side and keep the worst of the gossips at bay. It wasn’t bloody difficult—”

“I got distracted for one moment,” Tom replied. “West Price was there. I blinked, and she was gone.”

“It was clearly a mistake to use Renley,” James muttered. “He’s too popular here in Town. It should have been you, Burke. Next time, it will be.”

Burke nodded, even while Tom hung his shoulders with frustration.

“Hold on…” Rosalie glanced from James to Tom, her eyes settling on Burke. “You all knew, didn’t you? Was that your plan then? To use Tom as a shield against insult? You think I intend to spend the rest of my life with one of you on my arm so the high society vultures cannot peck out my eyes? I am not yours to protect!”

Burke was by her side in a moment, holding her shoulders. “Yes, you bloody well are!”

“Let me go,” she hissed, nearly tipping her drink on them both.

“You think we didn’t know there would be gossip? Of course, we did. This is our world, Rosalie. You are an innocent, uncorrupted by these social politics. We are trying to keep you safe.”

“I’m so sorry about Marianne,” Tom said from behind her. “What did she say?”

“It’s not worth repeating,” Rosalie murmured.

“It is,” he pressed, stepping around her to stand at Burke’s side. “No secrets, Rose. Not here, not with us.”

She huffed an empty laugh. “No secrets? That’s rich seeing as you’ve all just admitted to gossiping without me…about me…again!” She struggled in Burke’s grasp, and he let her go. She stumbled back, clutching her glass of gin as she moved towards the fireplace. “You want me to open up, but the three of you constantly keep me on the outside. How can I trust when you don’t let me in?”

“How can we trust when you let no one and nothing in?” James countered, finally crossing the room.

She turned her anger on him. “Don’t you dare take the high road, James Corbin. You plot and plan, making decisions for me, dressing me like your little doll,” she added, gesturing to her gown. “All the while, you are a mighty fortress with thick walls a mile high. You are the one who cannot let anyone in! And my opinion clearly doesn’t matter to you. To any of you!”

“That’s not true,” said Tom.

But James was steaming mad now. “Why would I trust you when you pull stunts like this? Climbing out a window with my brother? You’re mad! Where was the consideration? Where was the discernment that we might have been able to help you, defend you, protect you—”

“I don’t need your protection—”

“No, of course not,” he barked, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. “You don’t need our protection. You’re a one-woman bloody army!”

Tom took a step closer to Rosalie, sensing she was about to break. “James—”

“You’re reckless, Rosalie Harrow,” James bellowed. “Reckless and fearless, and I do not trust you. I don’t trust you in my house. I certainly don’t trust you with my friends.” He stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “You’re going to break them. You’ll shatter them when you inevitably leave, and I will be left picking up the pieces.”

Burke’s heart was in his throat. He was losing it—his bright, shining vision of the future. It was slipping away before his very eyes. How did he hold the four of them together if two were determined to pull them apart? “James, please—”

“I will not lie to her,” James threw at him. “You know honesty means everything to me. And you are not honest,” he spat at Rosalie. “You hide yourself away. Your thoughts, your intentions. You act alone—”

“That is not fair—”

“You may think you know me,” he went on. “You think I am a fortress, and none may enter, but it is only you who cannot enter. You stand outside my walls, unable to look in, and assume I must be alone. But Burke walks freely through my gates. Renley too. Do you know why? Because they have earned my trust through years of fidelity and honesty. You are on the outside, and I shall keep you there until you prove worthy of being let in.”

Eyes filled with tears, she held James’ gaze. “What you say is true,” she said softly, setting her glass aside. “I am guarded. I walk alone because I’ve never had anyone willing to walk beside me. My family was small, scattered to the four winds. An ailing grandmother in Richmond, an uncle in India, Aunt Thorpe here in Town. My father was only at home when he needed food or pocket money or someone to kick around. My mother tried to be there for me, but she had her own demons.”

She lifted her chin. “So yes, James, I fight my own battles—” She stifled a cry with her gloved hand, batting Burke away when he reached for her. “Tonight, members of your social set, former lovers…they mocked me and jeered, they called me a wilted rose, a distraction, a gossip column skivvy.”

“Fucking hell,” Tom groaned.

Burke wanted to find Marianne Young and string her up by her ears.

“You are the great lords here,” Rosalie went on, gesturing to each of them, her gaze landing on James. “I am nothing to you, I know that. I’m not worthy of you, you’ve made that clear. Can’t you see it, James? You will be the ones to tire of me, not the other way around.”

Burke felt like his heart had just dropped through the floor. Forcing his chest to rise, he took a sucking breath. He glanced at Tom and knew he was experiencing the same emotions. Rosalie thought she was nothing? She thought they intended to use her up and set her aside? What was it going to take to convince this goddess that she was the orb by which they meant to set all the functions of their lives? She was everything. Everything.

He took a step closer. “Rosalie…please, love—”

James’ voice stilled him. “What did my mother say to you?”

Rosalie blinked back her tears. “What?”

Burke turned from one to the other. “James—”

“She knows something about my mother,” he snapped. “Some secret.” He turned back to Rosalie. “If you want on the inside, there’s a place to start. Tell me what you know.”

“Please, don’t ask it of me,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Ask me anything else—”

“Why are you protecting her?” James challenged, closing the distance between them.

“It is not my truth to tell. It was spoken in confidence, and that is not a lie—”

“It is withholding,” James countered. “Which is the same as a lie to me.”

She tipped her head back, holding his gaze. They were standing so close, their noses almost touching. Suddenly, James dropped his forehead down to hers, his arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her close and breathed her in, his nose buried in the curls at her temple. Her hands raised to fist the lapels of his evening coat.

“James…” she whimpered, clinging to him.

The sound pierced Burke’s soul. He wanted to go to them, hold them in his arms and keep them like this forever. Oh god, he could taste it.

Please, James…say the right thing.

“I may want you, Rosalie,” James whispered into her hair. “I may ache with the pain of this wanting.” He lifted his head away to meet her eye. “But until you give me this…” He tapped her forehead with a gentle finger. “And this…” He splayed his hand over her heart, right over the exposed swell of her breast. “All the rest is meaningless to me.” He lifted both hands to cup her face. “Can you give me what I want?”

They stood there, suspended in time before the fireplace, gazing into each other’s eyes. Her lips trembled. “I…you can’t just ask this of me all at once—”

James dropped his hands away so fast she was left swaying on the carpet. He took two steps back. “I bid you all a goodnight,” he muttered. Turning on his heel, he stalked away.

“James, stop,” Burke called, desperate that they all stay in this room.

“Let him go,” Tom said, putting a firm hand on his shoulder.

Burke watched as the drawing room door shut. Then he spun around to face Rosalie. Tears fell silently down her cheeks as she stood alone by the fireplace in her beautiful ballgown, James’ mother’s pearls at her throat. Burke didn’t miss the way James’ fingers unconsciously found them, stroking the strands as he held her close, his hand splayed over her heart.

“Oh, my love,” he murmured. Going to her at once, he wrapped her in his arms and she fell apart, crying against his chest.

Tom was there in an instant, framing her from behind, shoring her up. He wove his arms in with theirs, holding onto Burke as much as Rosalie as he dropped his face to the curve of her neck. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Rose. You don’t have to be so strong all the time. Let us help you. Let us hold you. Let us in.”

She stiffened in their arms, her face still pressed into Burke’s cravat. “I don’t know how,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Burke felt the humility of her declaration down to his very bones. This beautiful creature had known nothing but violence and rejection and dismissal all her life. She didn’t know how to let them in. She didn’t know how to let them love her. Still holding tight to her and Tom, he lowered his head to kiss her temple. “Let us teach you.”