His Grace, The Duke: Second Sons Book Two

Rosalie made the rounds of each room, taking in the general splendor. All the while, she glanced over her shoulder, expecting Marianne to descend. What the woman hoped to gain by antagonizing her, Rosalie didn’t know. Tom was lost to her forever. Rosalie meant to see to it.

As if thoughts of the man could conjure him, he appeared across the room in his handsome naval uniform. His curls were as unruly as ever. She wanted to run her fingers through them. His eyes were narrowed as he scanned the room. Once he found her, the tension in his shoulders eased and he was crossing to her side.

“Good evening, Lieutenant,” she said at his approach, dipping slightly into a curtsy.

His steps faltered, as did his smile, but he quickly recovered. She understood his annoyance, but they were in public. Eyes eagerly watched their every move…and not all of them were friendly.

“Miss Harrow,” he murmured. “You look devastating tonight. Yellow suits you.” His eye trailed down her form and back up, sending heat to her already warm cheeks.

“You were out very late last night, sir.”

“All night, in fact,” he replied. “Dinner ran long, and many drinks were imbibed. My captain’s wife demanded we stay.” He leaned in, turning his body slightly to step in behind her. “Why…did you miss me?”

“Parts of you,” she teased with a smile.

“Tell me which parts, and I shall be sure you do not miss them again tonight.”

Before she could reply, Burke joined them, two glasses of punch in hand. He handed her one, slipping along the wall on her other side.

“Where’s mine?” Tom muttered.

“I only had two hands,” Burke replied. “And you have two strong legs. Walk over and get it yourself.”

“Not a chance,” Tom said with a laugh. “You only want me to leave so you can monopolize her.” Reaching out, he snatched Burke’s glass and drained it.

“Hey,” Burke growled.

Rosalie smiled, loving the feel of them to either side of her. So at ease, so friendly.

“Good god…that’s Charlie Broadwood,” Tom said, his eyes alighting on a tall sailor who had just passed the open doorway. “Excuse me a moment.”

“Bring back more punch!” Burke called.

Tom strolled away with a wave of his hand, leaving Rosalie in the corner with Burke.

“Have you seen James?” she murmured.

“He was still greeting guests with the duchess last I checked.” Slipping her glass from her hand, he took a sip and grimaced. “Gah, why does it even taste pink?”

She giggled. “Would you prefer a tall glass of beer?”

“Anything would be better than this.” He placed the glass back in her hand, his fingers stroking along hers. “Will I be expected to dance tonight?”

“Only if you wish to,” she replied. “There will be some dancing later. Only a few songs to close out the evening.”

Before he could reply, James appeared at his shoulder.

Rosalie felt her heart squeeze tight. She didn’t want him to feel guilty about what happened between them last night. She didn’t want there to be any regrets. But now he was here, so close she could touch him. She remembered every kiss from his lips, every exquisite touch, his breath warm against her skin, his fingers buried deep.

Heavens, get ahold of yourself.

These men were murder for her self-control.

“Burke, I need you,” he said without ceremony, without even a nod in her direction. That helped calm her fires. It all but put them out completely.

“What for?” Burke replied with a frown.

“Quentin is here. He has some papers that need signing and I need a witness.”

“What…now? This is a party, James.” He gestured around at the festive atmosphere. “Surely it can wait until morning.”

James’ eye darted to Rosalie and then back to Burke. “No…it can’t. Come now.”

Burke set his glass down behind Rosalie on the sideboard. It was an excuse to lean in and run his hand along her back. “This won’t take long,” he murmured, moving away to follow James.

Rosalie watched them leave, their faces pressed close as they spoke quietly.

“Well, you certainly work fast don’t you,” said a haughty voice, dripping with disdain.

Rosalie stiffened. She didn’t need to turn around to know who she would find standing behind her. The ghoul in the lavender dress had her cornered.