Madeline could hardly see straight as she watched Mr. Bray take his leave. After Burke’s painful interrogation at dinner, Mr. Bray was in no mood to stay past dessert, even when Rosalie offered. He made his excuses, citing a need to check on his uncle, so the quartet saw him out. As the front doors opened, a gust of wintry wind blew inside, raising goosebumps down Madeline’s arms; a final frozen chill to end this disaster of an evening.
Rosalie stood between the duke and Burke, her lips set in a thin line, watching the vicar don his hat and step out into the cold. Madeline stood a little off to the side, waiting for the moment the door would shut. She wasn’t disappointed. As soon as the door clicked and the footmen stepped back, the duke and his duchess rounded on Burke.
“Oh, Burke, I cannot believe you,” Rosalie cried. “You scared him off!”
“If he scares that easily, Madeline’s well shot of him,” Burke replied with an indifferent shrug.
But Madeline could see the stiffness in the shoulders, the way he held his chin in the air. His defiance belied the truth. He wasn’t indifferent at all. Quite the opposite. What did he have against Mr. Bray? Should it give her pause in considering him as a suitor?
The duke crossed his arms. “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on? Why the hell was Bray even here tonight? Why is Madeline really here?”
But the others were too distracted by glowering at each other to notice.
“You just don’t like him,” Rosalie countered at Burke, hands perched on her hips, ignoring her husband’s queries. “You still suffer from the deluded notion that I flirted with him once, and now you carry that chip on your shoulder like a man carries his musket into battle!”
“You did flirt with him, you little minx,” Burke growled, lowering his face closer to hers. “I wish you would just admit it so we can all move on!”
“Whoa…what the hell is he talking about?” said James, turning Rosalie to face him.
“Oh, relax,” she soothed, placing her hand over his as she darted her gaze back over her shoulder at Burke. “I wasn’t even married then, and I wasn’t flirting—”
Burke barked an empty laugh. “Please, you don’t think I know flirting when I see it?”
The duke glanced at Madeline and his scowl deepened. “This is hardly the place—”
“Oh, don’t ‘hardly the place’ me,” said Burke. “This is my bloody house too, and Rosalie is—”
“Burke, will you shut up!” James barked. “We’re not going to fight in front of the staff. In front of company.”
As if the other two suddenly remembered her presence, Burke and Rosalie spun to face Madeline.
“Oh, Madeline. Oh, I’m so sorry,” Rosalie cried, stepping forward to wrap her arms around her. “We’ve made such a mess of things tonight. Here we are just trying to help, and instead we make everything worse.”
“If someone doesn’t tell me what the bloody hell is going on,” James growled, brows lowered over those fierce green eyes. “What’s wrong with Madeline? Why is she here, and why does she need our help?”
Rosalie pulled back, her hands on Madeline’s shoulders. She glanced at the duke and then back at Madeline. “I don’t keep secrets from my husband,” she said gently.
Madeline knew what was coming. She didn’t let herself feel the pang of discomfort when Rosalie asked, “Will you tell him your dilemma, or shall I?”
