Rosalie and Burke returned to Corbin House with the setting sun.
“Welcome back, miss,” said a tall footman, taking the small traveling case she offered him.
“Have they already rung the gong?” Burke asked, handing over his great coat to the other footman.
“Yes, sir. Lord James and the Lieutenant are in the drawing room. Dinner is about to be served.”
The heels of Burke’s boots clicked sharply on the marble floor as he swept across the entry hall.
“Oh, Burke, we’re so late,” Rosalie cried, sticking close to his side as he led the way through the quiet house. She hadn’t meant for them to be out so late, but traffic from Cheapside to Mayfair had been terrible.
“We can have dinner delayed if you’d like to change,” the taller footman said, almost jogging at Burke’s side.
“Not necessary,” Burke replied. “We’ll go straight in.”
Rosalie’s heart fluttered with each step she took, knowing she was about to see James and Renley again. She didn’t feel prepared to survive a dinner with all three men together. There was no time to attempt an escape before Burke was shoving his way through the door.
“Mr. Burke and Miss Harrow,” called the footman. His powdered wig tipped askew as he lunged forward to catch the closing door before it hit Rosalie.
Inside the spacious drawing room, James and Renley scrambled to their feet. They sat at the far end of the room on a pair of sofas. Unlike Burke and Rosalie, they were both dressed for dinner—tailored black coats and trim pants with neutral waistcoats, starched collars, and crisp white cravats.
James had his auburn curls brushed and tucked behind his ears. His fierce green eyes locked on her in an instant. “Finally,” he called in welcome, setting down his glass of wine. His smile fell as he glanced from Rosalie to Burke…Burke who was barreling towards him.
“Oh shit,” Renley muttered, slapping his drink down and reaching out for Burke’s arm as he passed. “Burke—don’t—”
Burke shoved past him.
“Burke, no,” Rosalie cried, running after him.
“You know I’m sorry,” James offered, making no attempt to move away or even raise his hands.
In a fit of speed she didn’t know she possessed, Rosalie raced around the sofa and flung herself in front of James just in time. She stretched her arms wide, using her body as a human shield between the two men. “Burke, that is enough—”
“Get out of my way,” he growled, hands reaching out as if he meant to physically move her aside.
“James is not to blame for what happened,” she cried.
James put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay…step aside.”
“No!” She pressed into him, arms still wide.
Renley placed a hand on Burke’s shoulder. “Come on, it’s not worth it.”
“Rosalie, move,” Burke said again. “Someone is getting punished for this—”
“Then punish me!”
James’ hand went stiff on her shoulder. Across from her, Burke and Renley looked at her with wide eyes. A tense moment stretched between them all as her words hung in the air.
Burke’s eyes narrowed. “What did you just say?”
She lowered her hands but kept her chest puffed out and her chin raised in defiance. “You heard me. James is off limits,” she declared. “If you are so determined to seek justice for what we did, then punish me.”
Behind Burke, Renley groaned, keeping a firm hold on his friend’s shoulder.
“Consider me in your debt. You can choose—”
“Deal,” Burke said, even before she’d finished the offer.
She blinked. “Deal? But—”
“I accept,” he repeated, those stormy eyes luring her in.
She frowned. “Given your penchant for tricks, I can only imagine what awaits. Will you make me perform a duet again before the entire house party? Make me recite poetry? No embarrassment should be off limits—”
Burke let out a vicious laugh.
“Burke,” James warned.
Burke ignored him, inching closer. “You say ‘punish me’ in that siren’s tone, and you truly expect me to make your punishment public?” He stepped into her, lowering his mouth to her ear. “There is no world in which I would waste this chance on another piano duet.”
A shiver coursed through her.
“Burke, that’s enough,” James muttered, his grip on her loosening slightly. In that moment she realized she was still pressed against him. She tried to shift away, but he held her still.
“She started it,” Burke replied.
“I don’t need her fighting my battles,” James countered. “If you need to thrash me to get a little of your own back, then do it.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Rosalie huffed. “We have much more important matters to discuss tonight. For starters—”
“I am not engaged!” Renley barked.
Rosalie blinked, swallowing the rest of her sentence.
They all turned to look at Renley.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I know this wasn’t about me yet, but I was dying holding it in and, well, it’s not true.”
“What?” James said at the same time Burke muttered, “Oh, thank Christ.”
Rosalie took a breath. “But…Marianne said—”
“She lied,” Renley pressed. “She was confused about how we left things last week. And I think perhaps she was jealous when she saw us dancing together—”
“Of course, she was jealous,” Burke said with a scowl. “She meant to put Rosalie in her place. I hope you shredded her to ribbons. Is that what took you so long today?”
“Wait, what the hell did I miss now?” James growled, looking between the three of them.
Rosalie felt dizzy. Renley had yet to look away. Those depthless blue eyes were locked on her, his expression open and pleading. He wasn’t engaged. Marianne lied.
“Are we finished now?” Burke pressed, angling himself towards Renley. “Can we finally put Marianne behind us for good?”
Renley nodded. “It’s finished. I told her in no uncertain terms that we’re done.”
Beside her, Rosalie felt James stiffen. “But she told Rosalie you were engaged last night? She actually spun such a lie?”
Renley nodded, his gaze back on Rosalie. “And I’m so sorry. God, you have no idea—if I’d known last night—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she murmured. This was all too much to handle. She needed food. She needed sleep. She needed one blessed moment to collect her thoughts without one of these men trying to tip her world off its axis with new proclamations.
“It does matter,” Renley said, taking her hand in both of his. “Rosalie, I—”
“Excuse me, my lord.”
Rosalie stiffened, as did all three men. They turned as one to see a footman standing in front of the open drawing room doors. If she wasn’t blushing before, she certainly was now.
“What is it?” barked James.
“Dinner is ready.”
Before she quite realized how it happened, Rosalie was sitting at one end of the impressively long table in the Corbin House dining room. It was decked in full splendor—silver candlesticks and servers, crystal glasses, artfully designed floral arrangements. Everything sparkled.
Across from her sat Burke and Renley, awkwardly glancing up every few moments, trying to catch her eye. James sat at the head of the table. Behind each of their chairs stood a footman, ready to serve each course. The meal was orchestrated by the ancient butler, who guarded the corner of the room like a gargoyle.
They all sipped their first course of pumpkin soup. It was delicious, but Rosalie couldn’t get over the discomfort of feeling the presence of the footmen looming around the table.
“Well…this is awkward,” Renley muttered, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
Burke and James both paused with their spoons half-raised.
“I know why I was feeling anxious,” Renley went on. “But what do the two of you have to be so uptight about?”
Burke scowled as James set his spoon down with a clink, reaching for his wine.
“Did something else happen that I don’t know about?” Renley glanced across the table at Rosalie, determined to get answers.
She shifted uncomfortably on her chair. She was a terrible liar at the best of times. If he looked at her now, surely what he’d see was her mortification. Not that she regretted anything that happened, but she did hate feeling like she was keeping something from him—from any of them—even unintentionally.
And what Renley didn’t know about last night could easily fill a novel. Starting with the fact that James had kissed her in the library. Passionately. Aggressively. Like a man starving for much more than pumpkin soup. And that was before she’d argued with Burke in the music room, an argument that ended with him on his knees, pressing her against the piano, his mouth between her legs.
Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as she remembered the aching fullness, of riding his cock on the sofa…the floor. She glanced up and met Burke’s gaze. The fire blazing in his eyes told her he was thinking about the same thing. She looked pointedly away and he chuckled. She set her spoon aside, reaching for her wine.
Renley missed nothing of the exchange. “Oh hell…something did happen. What did I miss?”
Burke cleared his throat, adjusting his napkin in his lap. “We have company.”
“Rosalie is not company,” Renley replied.
“He means the staff, Renley,” James clarified in that annoyed tone.
Around the table, the footmen tried not to shift, as if they weren’t listening intently to every word uttered.
“Wilson,” James called.
The butler stepped forward. “Yes, my lord?”
“Have the footmen serve the courses and leave. We shall dine en famille tonight, and every night until my brother and mother join us.”
The butler stiffened. “My lord, the presentation of each dish is—”
“We don’t care about presentation,” he countered. “A mince tart is a mince tart whether it is served on a silver tray or a napkin.”
“Of course, my lord.”
In minutes, the table’s end was laden with an odd assortment of trays and plates stacked with each course. There was a tray of cod fillets drizzled with cream sauce, fresh salad, roasted chicken and potatoes, lamb chops with a mash of asparagus and peas, a selection of wedged cheeses, dried fruit, and a two-tiered tray of assorted petits fours. The footmen did their best to fit it all within arms’ reach.
“And the wine, my lord?” said Wilson.
“Leave the bottles on the table,” James replied. “We’ll serve ourselves.”
“Very good, sir.”
Rosalie watched the footmen file out of the dining room through a side door. The butler was the last to leave, giving everything a final appraising look before he closed the door with a soft snap. That sound let out all the stifling tension in the room. Burke loosened the tie of his cravat. James’ shoulders fell as he sank back into his chair, glass of wine in hand.
Renley was the only one to help himself to more food. He speared the chicken with his fork, piling a few shaved slices onto his plate. “So…what happened last night?”
James’ face was a mask of cool, calm. Rosalie was completely unprepared when he held her gaze and said, “Well, for starters, Burke and Rosalie fucked on the piano.”
