His Grace, The Duke: Second Sons Book Two

It should have been a perfect day. Burke got to wake in the arms of his lovers, sated from a night of vigorous lovemaking. Tom’s pretty words to Rosalie about retiring her mouth had been pure fantasy. Their wanton siren took them to hand and mouth again and again until they were begging for mercy. They reciprocated in full, worshipping her body, teasing and sharing her sweet cunt until each kiss tasted only of her.

God, he never wanted to wake. Day should be abolished. It should only ever be night, and he should be naked between his lovers forever.

But day came, and with it came all the demands of the world outside their bed.

He started his morning being forced by James to run an errand on the opposite end of Town. He waited for two hours for the gentleman to show, but he never did. On his way back to Corbin House, he stopped by the stable yards and was told that, not only did one of his favorite brood mares die of colic in the night, but one of his most promising new racing stallions took a tumble during a training run and shattered his front leg. The poor animal had to be put down.

So, when Burke entered the library to find Tom alone with Captain Hartington, the two of them standing together in the window, his patience snapped.

“Burke,” Tom said with a smile. “We were just talking about you. Good outing?”

“No,” he muttered, crossing over to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of port. He didn’t need Tom to confirm what he already knew. Tom and Hartington had history. It was in their shared looks, the way they could finish each other’s sentences. Hartington knew Tom the way Burke knew Tom…the way Burke was learning to know Tom. He squeezed the glass tight, not turning around as he took a sip.

“Renley here tells me you can box,” called Hartington. “You trained at Oxford?”

“Aye,” he replied, setting the glass down. Did the captain want a demonstration?

“I was just telling Renley about a charity bazar Greenwich Hospital is hosting on Sunday,” Hartington went on. “There’ll be stalls for jams and pies and the like. But we’re trying to make it a bit more of a show. We’ve landed on the idea of hosting a few sparring matches.”

“It’s brilliant, eh?” Tom said with a smile. “People can make bets and part of the winnings will go to the hospital.”

“Brilliant,” Burke replied.

Tom’s smile fell, his eyes narrowing on him. He glanced at the captain, then back to Burke. Tom and the captain might have a language of looks they shared, but so did Tom and Burke, and Burke was making no mystery of his current thoughts. Tom frowned and shook his head.

“Well?” called the captain, oblivious to their silent conversation. “What say you, Mr. Burke? Care to try your luck in the ring against a navy man? It’s all for a good cause.”

Burke tore his eyes away from Tom. “You want me to fight?”

“Aye, it would be good to have a few men with some proper training,” the captain replied. “If you leave it to us old sea dogs, it may be little more than a rowdy slinging of fists. But there’s an art to boxing, as you well know.”

Damn it, why did Hartington have to be so likable?

Sensing Burke’s thoughts, Tom smirked.

Burke looked pointedly away. “Who would I be fighting then?”

“You could have your pick,” Hartington replied. “We’ve got a retired captain, Yates. Tall as you, a bit broader in the shoulder maybe. Hits like an anvil. A few of the lads are wirier, but they’re fast. They’ll take your head for a spin if you let your hands down.”

“Hmm,” Burke replied. It had been a while since he’d had a proper match in a ring. He couldn’t deny the prospect interested him. It would be good to let loose some of this tension. “When do you need an answer?”

“Soon as you can give it,” Hartington replied. “The lads hoped to make some pamphlets to drum up more interest.”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Tom replied. “Even if Burke’s out, consider me in.” He cuffed the captain on the shoulder and Hartington laughed, cuffing him back.

Burke had to fight the urge to stomp forward and slap his hand away. He was saved by the chiming of the mantle clock. Five o’clock already.

“Christ, is that the time?” Tom muttered. “Sorry gents, but I’m afraid I must be off. I take dinner at my captain’s house tonight.”

“I’ll walk out with you,” Hartington replied.

“Wait.” The word was out of Burke’s mouth before he even had time to think it.

Tom and Hartington both cast him a curious look.

“I would speak to Hartington about something.”

Tom raised a wary brow. Slowly, he crossed the room to Burke’s side. “Should I stay? I can be fashionably late.”

“Not necessary,” he replied.

Tom gave Burke a warning look. But Burke was never one for heeding warnings. Feeling rash, he pulled Tom to him by his coat lapel and kissed him square on the mouth. Tom pulled away with a startled gasp. He narrowed his eyes, more irritated than upset. “Was that necessary?” he whispered.

Burke smirked. “Yes.”

Tom glanced over his shoulder at Hartington and back at Burke, his voice low. “Nothing happened,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“Nothing would have happened,” he added.

Burke raised a hand and stroked Tom’s jaw with the back of his fingers. A quick touch. A statement. A promise. “I know. Now go.”

With a frustrated sigh, Tom stepped past him and left.

Hartington still stood framed by the bright window. “Is that what you needed to tell me, Mr. Burke?”

Burke crossed his arms, not moving from his spot by the wall. “It’s part of it.”

The captain chuckled. “There’s no need to be jealous of what Renley and I once shared. It was another life for me.”

A muscle twitched in Burke’s jaw. “I generally find jealousy to be a useless emotion,” he replied. “It implies a deep dissatisfaction in wanting something I cannot have. In this case, jealousy is wholly absent from my feelings.”

“Is that right?” the captain mused.

“Why would I be jealous of you, Hartington? You have nothing that I want.”

It was Hartington’s turn to cross his arms. “Then why the big show?”

“Because I am territorial. I know what I have. I fought hard for it, and I intend to keep it.”

Hartington smirked. “Am I a threat then?”

“I am the threat,” Burke replied. “Touch Tom again, speak a soft word in his ear, so much as look at him in a way I find overly familiar…and I will rip out your goddamn throat.”

Hartington gave him a measured look. “You know I am a decorated naval captain, right? Scratch that…you know I am the son and brother of a duke…”

Burke wasn’t intimidated. “What you are is a bastard, Hart. Same as me. The rules are different for us. We’re not really part of their society. The only way we survive is by staking our claims and holding to them with everything we have. So, bastard to bastard, hear me when I tell you that Tom Renley is mine. And in a fight to keep him, I have absolutely nothing to lose.”

The men held each other’s gaze for a moment before Hartington’s mouth tipped into another grin. “Is it wrong for me to admit I hoped never to meet you?”

Burke blinked. “What?”

“I didn’t want to put a face to the name and hate you even more. Damn, but you’re handsome,” Hartington said with a dry laugh. “It’s unfair to the rest of us bastards.” He absently raised a hand, stroking the bottom edge of his scar. “Worse still would be to meet you and like you…which is exactly what has happened.”

“I’m not looking to make an enemy of you, Hart. Any friend of Tom’s can be a friend of mine. I trust his taste…usually.”

The captain laughed again. “Your message is received, Mr. Burke. It was received years ago.”

“Years ago?”

Hartington raised his scarred brow. “Do you know how often he talks of you? Do you know how hard it was to know another charming bastard claimed a piece of him?”

A warm feeling spread through Burke. Tom spoke of him with Hartington?

“I am no one’s second choice, Mr. Burke. I walked away from him long ago…when it was clear he would never walk away from you.”

Burke smiled, feeling those words sink down to his very bones.

Hartington cleared his throat. “Now, is that all you wanted?”

“Actually, no,” Burke replied. “I wanted to talk to you about Olivia.”