Rosalie slipped into the dining room on the heels of the Swindon sisters. She glanced quickly around to see Burke was already seated. He caught her eye and smiled. The seat next to him was open. She clenched her hands at her sides as she followed the Swindons to an empty chair at the opposite end of the table.
The group was lively as the ladies discussed the ball that was now only a week away, while the men discussed some case of political intrigue noted in the Sunday papers. Rosalie sat between Madeline and Mariah, who quickly swept her up into a loud conversation about ball gowns. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, feeling the eyes of Burke and James flickering down the table at her. They’d been whispering, both wearing frowns, and now they wouldn’t stop looking at her.
“Everything all right?” Madeline murmured.
“Perfectly fine,” Rosalie replied, taking a bite of her food and not tasting it.
Burke and James are panting after you.
The duke knew. She wanted to die of mortification to think of him playing matchmaker. Who else knew? Heavens, was the whole table aware of the way the men kept looking her way?
“I realized earlier that we’ve been remiss, Lady Madeline,” Burke called down the table.
Some of the chatter stalled as eyes glanced from Burke to Madeline.
“We promised you a sketching adventure and have yet to deliver. I’ve just been speaking with James, and we think tomorrow might be the perfect day—”
“Tomorrow the ladies go into Carrington for their final dress fittings,” said the duchess from her seat at the end of the table.
“Tuesday then,” Burke replied with a smile. “Any of the young ladies are welcome to join,” he added.
“What a capital idea,” said the duke. “Where did you have in mind?”
Now all the young ladies were interested, twittering out ideas.
“By the lake would be lovely,” called Blanche.
“Or the top of Finchley Hill,” said Mariah.
“It could be an expedition,” her sister added. “Painting and sketching for those so inclined, and perhaps a search for walnuts for us adventurers.”
“But I didn’t bring any of my watercolors,” Mariah cried.
“Oh, I’m sure we can find suitable supplies,” the duke replied. “I myself have been known to dabble in watercolors. In fact, I think I shall join the party.”
There was much exclaiming at this, and Rosalie smiled as she saw how it annoyed Burke and James to have the duke insert himself into their plans.
The young ladies went on discussing possible sites and Rosalie found she just couldn’t help herself. What were the duke’s words? If I were a better man…
“With so many wonderful options, I doubt we can go wrong,” she said, immediately drawing all the eyes at the table. She leveled her gaze at Burke and James and smiled. “Perhaps we can leave it to fate and simply draw from a hat.”
Both men went still as stone.
“Oh yes, what fun,” said Mariah, clapping her hands.
“Where shall we get a hat to draw?” Blanche asked, looking around as if she meant to do it right there at the table.
“I believe Lord James has one you can borrow,” Rosalie replied.
James’ eyes blazed with violence as he shot his brother a feral look. The duke raised a glass in mock salute before flashing Rosalie a playful wink.
It was all Rosalie could do to avoid the looks of the gentlemen as she waited for lunch to end. As soon as the duchess excused herself, Rosalie slipped out of her chair too, desperate to escape. She took off down the hallway. Her feet gravitated towards the safety and comfort of the library.
“Miss Harrow—”
She kept walking, the tail of her sprigged muslin dress trailing the carpet.
Burke kept pace just behind her. “Rosalie—”
“Please don’t,” she panted, pushing her way through the doors into the sunny library. Her eyes darted around the room, desperate to determine if they were alone. She longed for it, even as she prayed there might be someone lurking along the shelves.
He shut the door behind them. “Rosalie, talk to me. Let me explain—”
“You don’t need to explain, sir,” she said, turning on her heel only when she managed to get a sofa between them. “His Grace explained everything.”
Burke’s countenance was stormy. He leaned over, his hands gripping the back of the sofa as if it was the only thing keeping him from launching over it and snagging her in his arms. “What the hell did George say?”
Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips and she nearly whimpered at his reaction—his eyes narrowed as his hands gripped tighter to the sofa. “That you are to blame for why I shall not be receiving an offer of marriage from His Grace.”
His jaw tightened. “Tell me precisely. What did George say?”
She crossed her arms, eyes darting towards the door. “He told me about your decision to pick his new duchess by drawing names from a hat. My name was drawn first, and he resolved to marry me. That’s when you lost your nerve.”
“Fuck.” He pushed off from the sofa. “Rosalie, that is not what happened.”
Her eyes flashed with fire. “So, our names were not put into a hat with the indifference of choosing a raffle pie at a county fair?”
“Yes, but—”
“My name was not the first drawn from the hat?”
He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes with another pained groan. “It was, but—”
“And was it not the point of the horrid game that the first name drawn would be the new duchess?”
He swept around the sofa towards her. “Goddamn it, Rosalie. Listen—”
Her back stiffened at his approach. “So, it would appear your meddling just cost me a duchess’ coronet.”
He stopped right before her. His grey eyes were thunderous. “You would marry George Corbin?”
She tilted her chin up in defiance, holding his gaze. “You would let me?”
“Never,” he growled, leaning into her space, claiming her air. “I’d kill him first.”
His hands shot out, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her close. She moaned, her own hands snatching his lapels. His lips descended and he was just about to break his promise and kiss her when the door snapped open. Rosalie and Burke shot apart. She was trembling as she turned away, too embarrassed to see who caught them.
“What’s going on in here?”
Her stomach flipped. This was too much. Alone with Burke and James in the same room? Let someone enter and save her. She hadn’t the strength—
“Burke, what the hell is going on?” James’ deep voice sounded murderous.
Rosalie spun around, her anger still boiling. “I was just thanking Mr. Burke for his interference that led me to be denied your brother’s hand in marriage. Whose scheme was it?”
“I had nothing to do with this.” Burke pointed a finger at his friend. “This was all James.”
James went rigid, his eyes locking on Burke. “Shall I order the carriage brought round? Then perhaps you’ll be so good as to shove me in front of it.” He slammed Burke in the chest with both hands, sending him stumbling backward.
Burke recovered, shoulders squared as if he meant to take a swing at him.
“Enough,” Rosalie cried, stepping forward with her hands raised. Her heart raced as both sets of eyes locked on her. “Just tell me what happened.”
James looked away from Burke. “It was nothing. A harmless distraction for George. I was trying to keep him from running off. If he slips off the estate, I’ll not catch him again for months. Hell, he may even follow through with his threats and emigrate to Australia at last.”
“So…you never intended to pick a duchess by—”
“No,” James said. “It was a game taken too far. It can be difficult to rein my brother in. Burke did nothing to encourage him. This was all me.”
Rosalie let herself take a shallow breath. “So…you didn’t want me to accept him?”
Both men were carefully quiet, casting a glance at each other she couldn’t catch before Burke asked, “Would you have said yes?”
“No,” she whispered. “Whatever my fate may be, I know it will not involve wearing a duchess’ coronet. His Grace is quite safe from me.” She could feel the sigh of relief neither man would let escape him. She fought her tremble as she let her eyes dart from one to the other. “I think you should both know something…”
“Know what?” James pressed.
“You should know that the duchess has made me an offer. She wants me to stay here…beyond the end of the season. She wants me to move into the house and serve as her ward.”
Burke’s eyes flashed with hunger, while James’ belied a sentiment she could only describe as horror.
“Why would she do that?” James said with a glower.
“She um…well, it’s to do with His Grace really. She doesn’t believe he will secure a duchess interested in…being duchess. And Alcott must be managed.”
“So, she’s enlisting your help?” Burke glanced at his friend. “Imagine that, James. Your mother has found her own replacement and has seen fit to insert her right under your nose. What a happy little family we’ll be: His Graceless and his idiot duchess, the dowager, the beleaguered shadow duke, the shadow duchess, and the bachelor bastard.”
James shot him a look meant to quiet him.
Burke ignored him, his eyes back on Rosalie. “What conditions did she make?”
“She offered me room and board, an allowance for dresses—”
“Her conditions,” Burke repeated. “The duchess never does anything without claiming some measure of control. How does she seek to control you, Rosalie?”
She fell quiet, her heart thudding dully in her chest.
“Just say it.”
“I am to draw no attention to myself…of any kind,” she added softly.
It was James who spoke this time. “Meaning what?”
She cleared her throat. “Meaning that I made it clear to the duchess I had no intention of ever marrying. She approves of my decision. It is that condition on which her offer hinges.”
“Fucking hell.” Burke stepped away.
James stood perfectly still, that muscle twitching in his jaw.
Rosalie chanced a look at him, for she didn’t dare say the next words and look at Burke. “So, you see, Lord James, I must ask you not to include me in any more marriage schemes. If I am to stay here at Alcott, I cannot entertain them.”
That muscle ticked again.
“But more to the point,” she whispered. “I do not want such attention…from anyone.”
Without waiting for either man to make a response, she slipped between them and made for the door. Neither tried to stop her as she fled.
