Renley’s eyes blew wide as he glanced from Rosalie to Burke. “You did what?”
“They were together last night in the music room. All over the music room, in fact,” James replied.
Rosalie shut her eyes tight, unable to meet Renley’s piercing gaze.
“That’s enough, James,” Burke growled.
“This happened last night? Where the hell was I?” said Renley.
Burke leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I think it’s only fair to start at the beginning. We wouldn’t want to leave anything out…like James accosting Rosalie in the library.”
“What?” Renley bellowed.
Perhaps, if she tried hard enough, Rosalie could self-combust in her chair. That would surely get her out of this situation…
“Is that what you told him?” James murmured.
“Of course, she told me,” Burke replied. “We have no secrets.”
Rosalie met James’ eyes and saw the pain there, the confusion.
He raised a brow in quiet indignation. “I accosted you?”
She let out a breath. “I never said that. I said you kissed me—I—we kissed.”
“So…you kissed?” Renley interjected, looking between them. “Is that all? Just a kiss?”
James was the first to look away, eyes back on his uneaten plate of food. “Just a kiss,” he muttered. “It didn’t mean anything. I was angry about George. She caught me at the wrong time.”
Rosalie’s heart sank. Just a kiss? She still felt the weight of his hips pressing her into the bookcase. She was clinging to it by the end, as he was clinging to her. Oh, yes, just a kiss. A kiss she’d kiss every night of her dreaming. Meanwhile, James wouldn’t look at her. He wanted it forgotten, for she was wholly unsuitable. A more imperfect match for the Right Honorable Viscount Finchley there could never be than Rosalie Harrow with her empty pockets, loose morals, and total lack of social standing.
James looked past an indignant Renley, eyes only for Burke. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, and it won’t happen again.”
“I won’t hold you to that,” Burke replied, making Rosalie’s breath catch in her throat. “I just need to know,” he added. He leaned towards James, grey eyes locked on his dearest friend. “Don’t hide things from me, James. And don’t run from me ever again…or the next time I catch you, I’ll cut off your goddamn legs. Just try and run then.”
The corner of James’ mouth quirked into a smile. “Fine.”
“How touching,” Renley replied with an eye roll, reaching past Burke for the tray of petits fours. “Can we go back to you and Rosalie in the music room?”
“No, we cannot!” Rosalie cried. “There is only one issue that matters right now, and that is Burke’s engagement to Oliva Rutledge. They cannot possibly be expected to go through with it. We need a plan.” At this, she looked to James, who was still pointedly avoiding her gaze.
“Can’t they just…not get married?” Renley said with a shrug. “George’s nuptials will overshadow all else, and Burke and Lady Gorgon can go their separate ways.”
The look of hope in Burke’s eyes made Rosalie grimace. “If only it could be that simple,” she murmured.
Renley frowned. “I don’t understand the problem—”
“The problem is that my mother has decreed that if Burke does not marry Olivia Rutledge, then she will disown him…and me if I help him,” James explained.
“Holy hell,” Renley muttered. “This happened last night?”
James nodded. “Not to mention the fact that if Lady Olivia tries to wriggle free, my mother is prepared to ruin her.”
“Our challenges, as I see them, are two,” Rosalie announced. “First, we must get the duchess to change her mind. She must be made to see that this marriage is not in the best interest of either party. She must agree to let them part.”
“Hell will freeze over before she changes her mind,” James muttered, reaching for a bottle of wine.
Rosalie wasn’t ready to reveal the ace up her sleeve: she knew a salacious secret about the duchess. If the duchess refused to see reason, Rosalie was not above threatening her. She was willing to do anything to protect Burke…and by extension James. But all peaceful means of reason and request must be exhausted first.
“What is the second challenge?” Burke pressed.
“Umm…well, we must convince Olivia not to marry you, obviously,” she replied.
Renley and Burke both snorted.
“Done,” said Burke.
“She hates him,” Renley added.
“Well, she hates everyone. I’m not special—”
“It’s not that simple,” said James, still slouched in his chair. He glanced to Rosalie and she nodded, sure he understood her.
“Why?”
She turned to Burke and Renley. “What I say now does not leave the four of us. It was confided in me by Olivia in a moment of sincere vulnerability. If you bring it up with her, she will know I’ve told you, and she will hate me for it.”
Burke nodded, followed quickly by Renley. “I think we should all agree that whatever is spoken between the four of us is sacred,” Renley replied. “No secrets, eh?”
Rosalie and Burke shared a look before they both nodded.
James sat like a statue, his tired eyes focused on the flickering candles.
Renley glanced his way. “James? Are you in this?”
James turned slowly to face him. “Do I have a choice?”
“We all have a choice,” Burke replied, his voice firm. “But think carefully. If you mean to agree out of obligation to me, or out of some misplaced idea of protecting us, then just go. You stay because you want to stay.”
James set his glass aside. “I’m staying.”
He didn’t look at Rosalie as he said the words, but she felt some small fluttering of relief. Whatever else he thought of her in terms of her unsuitability, he would help her help Burke. It was enough. It had to be enough.
She took a deep breath. “Olivia is not in the position to be turning down eligible suitors,” she explained. “She is almost twenty-seven, and this will be her third engagement. She’s tired, angry, and scared. So scared, in fact, that she threw herself at the duke during the house party, offering him sex in hopes he would propose…but she lost her nerve. The duke kicked her out. James and I found her in the hall…”
“God damn him,” Renley growled, clenching his fist around his wine glass. “So…what do we do?” He glanced around at each of them.
James rubbed his temple with a tired hand. Burke just sat there with a face like he’d swallowed a lemon.
“There is only one thing we can do,” Rosalie said. “We must get Olivia to jilt Burke.”
James let out a dry chuckle. “Christ…you think you’re going to find someone better for her, don’t you?”
She lifted her chin. “Exactly. The only way to break apart Burke and Olivia, with minimal reputational damage, is to secure for her a better match. If Burke jilts Olivia, she will be ruined. And that we cannot allow. But the only way a lady jilts a man and gets away with it is if she marries up…”
Burke dragged a hand through his dark hair.
“I’ve never played matchmaker,” Renley admitted. “It’s quite possible my involvement will make things worse, seeing as I can never manage to say the right thing when it counts…but you have my help all the same. What must we do?”
Rosalie smiled. “To begin, the three of you will write me a list of eligible bachelors. Then, we’ll contrive reasons to bring them in contact with Olivia. The whole Alcott house party will come to Town, yes?” she asked, looking to James.
James nodded. “I don’t see how they’ll avoid it. George will drum up enough enthusiasm. We’ll have a full house in a day or two.”
“Good. Until Burke is down that aisle, we still have time,” she replied.
James pushed back from the table and stood.
“Where are you going?” Rosalie said, eyes wide.
He snatched up his plate of half-eaten food. “Back to my study. There is much to do, and no time to do it. It appears I’ll be working through the night.”
She stood too. “Let me help you—”
“No.” The word was harsh, almost a bark.
Rosalie flinched. “You can share the load with us,” she replied. “Let me help with the engagement party, at least. It was my idea—”
“Tomorrow,” he replied. “Get some rest. I’m sure we’ll scheme better in the morning. And eat some of this. Don’t let it go to waste.”
He didn’t wait for the others to try and stop him. Holding his plate of food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, he shouldered his way out of the dining room.
