Rosalie woke alone in her bed. She was disoriented for a moment, her hands reaching out to feel the sheets to either side of her. Cool, crisp…empty. She blinked her eyes open, her mind full of memories of the previous night. She’d fallen asleep in Burke’s arms, turning in the night to be held by Renley.
She sat up, the sheet sliding off her bare shoulder. Her nipples pebbled in the cold air. The curtains were still drawn over the windows. The fire was out too, accounting for the sharp chill. She could just make out the face of the mantle clock.
Half past eight.
She slipped off the bed and tugged open the closest curtain, looking around the room. All evidence of Burke and Renley was gone. She tugged on her chemise, rubbing her arms to warm the chilled fabric.
Had she dreamt it all?
No…they were definitely here. They must have slipped out with the dawn. It was for her benefit. An unmarried lady’s reputation was worth more than gold…and given Rosalie’s low social standing, it was quite literally her only currency.
She should appreciate the gesture…but she didn’t. For now she stood cold and alone, her old nemesis self-doubt creeping in. To have them slink away made what they did together feel wrong. She couldn’t bear the idea of waking every morning to find them disappeared like puffs of smoke.
She moved back over to the bed and paused, a small smile quirking her lips. Not all proof of their presence had been removed. Three pillows still lined the top of the bed. She pressed a cool pillow to her face, stifling a smile. Salt and sunshine on a summer day. Renley. She snatched up the other one and her lungs were filled with a spiced currant scent. Burke.
She set the pillow down, smile falling. They were here, but this is all she could expect. Stolen moments. Secret looks. Hidden kisses. Longing touches in the quiet of night. It was enough. It had to be enough. She was too afraid to dare want more.
Dressed in one of her new gowns—a pretty cream thing with a blue pinstripe—Rosalie went in search of breakfast. She paused in the doorway of the morning room, eyes wide. All three men were present. James and Renley sat side by side at the table near the window, with Burke standing between them. Soft morning sunlight filtered in around them as Burke leaned over, one hand splayed on the table’s top. They were discussing something, gesturing to the papers spread between them.
“Miss Harrow, my lord,” called the footman.
All three men snapped to attention.
“Good morning,” she murmured, feeling the rush of warmth flood her cheeks.
“Morning,” they each repeated.
Feeling their eyes on her was…heady. She needed something fortifying. She followed the intoxicating smell of fresh coffee over to the buffet table.
Burke left the others by the window, meeting her in the corner. He looked at ease, dressed casually in breeches and boots with a simple red waistcoat and brown morning coat. Perhaps he’d already been for a ride in the park.
“Good morning,” he said again, helping himself to more coffee. “How did you sleep?”
“Exceptionally well,” she murmured, adding a cube of sugar to her coffee. Heavens, why couldn’t she look at him? She was being ridiculous. Nonsensical. Childish. Three words Rosalie loathed to associate with herself.
He leaned in, brushing his shoulder against hers as he reached for the sugar too. “Everything alright?”
“Of course,” she replied, tasting the lie on her tongue.
He sighed, setting his cup down and placing a hand at her elbow. “Better to just come out with it, love. You’ve clearly got a bee in your bonnet.”
She sniffed, replacing the cream jug on the silver tray. “I am not wearing a bonnet, sir.”
“Rosalie…why can’t you look at me?”
She glanced up. Burke’s stormy grey eyes watched her intently. “It’s nothing,” she started to say. “It’s silly…I feel silly even thinking it.”
He just waited, raising one dark brow in question.
She let out a slow breath, giving her coffee a stir with a slender silver spoon. “It’s just that I woke and…you were gone. Which, of course, is fine. It’s…you obviously couldn’t stay…”
He was quiet for a moment, lips pursed. “I see…and now you question everything.”
He had the nerve to chuckle and she felt a shiver of annoyance shoot down her spine. “Do not laugh at me. I—”
Whatever she was about to say was silenced by his lips on hers. His hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her still as he kissed her once, twice, three times. Each kiss a little deeper, a little more inviting. She tasted the coffee on the tip of his tongue as he flicked it against her lips.
She gasped, shrugging away. “What are you doing?” She glanced wildly around the room, thankful to see the footman had stepped out.
“Tom, come here,” Burke called over his shoulder.
Her breath caught. “Burke, don’t—”
He cupped her face with his hand, silencing her with a stern look. “I will not hide from them,” he said. “Between the four of us, there are no secrets. You are mine, yes?”
Her heart fluttered. “Yes,” she whispered.
“And I am yours,” he replied, kissing her brow before turning back to his coffee.
Renley appeared behind them. He looked well-rested too, outfitted in fawn breeches and riding boots with a blue waistcoat and handsome, stone-grey coat. “You bellowed?” he said at Burke, giving Rosalie a warm smile. “Good morning, Rose.”
“She woke to find us gone,” Burke replied, testing the sweetness of his coffee. “She thinks we mean to pretend it never happened. That we now only exist in the dark of the night, like strange creatures of moonlight…or a pair of bats.”
Renley’s blue eyes narrowed as he directed all his attention at Rosalie. “Is that true?”
“No. I didn’t…it wasn’t like that,” she replied lamely.
It was exactly like that.
“We left early this morning to set ourselves to work on the task you assigned us,” Renley explained.
“Blame no one but yourself that your morning did not involve four eager hands and two starving mouths,” Burke added. As he spoke, he trailed his hand up her arm and over her shoulder until his fingertips brushed the bare skin of her collarbone.
Rosalie batted his hand away. “That is quite enough.”
Both men laughed.
“Tonight, if you’re very good, your moonlight men may appear bringing gifts to honor their goddess,” Burke murmured, brushing his lips along her temple.
“I said enough,” she replied, giving him a little shove.
Renley just laughed, leaning in to kiss her temple on the other side.
“If you’re all quite finished, I’d like to get this settled,” James called from across the room.
Rosalie gasped. How had she forgotten he was still in the room? These men made her lose her senses completely. The closer they got to her, the less control she had over herself. She felt hot and bothered, her cheeks burning. If they wanted her, they could have her. Anywhere. Everywhere. She ached for them.
It scared her. In her experience, men were not to be trusted. What made these men so different? She’d never felt such a desire to be protected and cherished. And she refused to feel ashamed about it in front of James. He knew what could be his if he but reached out his hand to her. She refused to beg. So he would watch her wear the clothes he bought for her and kiss his friends and if he didn’t like it that was too bad.
She followed the men over to the opposite side of the room with her cup of coffee in hand. “What were you all doing when I came in?” she said, taking the seat Renley offered her.
“Reconciling,” replied James, shuffling a few of the papers on the table.
Rosalie paused with her cup halfway to her lips, eyes darting from James to the other two.
“Not with each other,” Burke snorted. “We made out lists of eligible bachelors.” He reached around James for the piece of paper on the table. “We’ve agreed on twelve names,” he said, handing it over to her.
She set her coffee aside and accepted the list, letting her eye scan the page written in James’ narrow, slanted scrawl.
“Don’t get too excited,” said James, groaning as he stood and stretched. “I’d say the bottom three should be scratched, but Burke insists they stay.”
“Who are we to determine if they should make the cut?” Burke countered. “Just because you wouldn’t marry them, James, doesn’t mean the Gorgon won’t find them suitable. They’re more suitable than me,” he finished with a shrug.
“Everyone is more suitable than you,” sniped James, sinking down onto the closest sofa, one arm flung over his tired eyes. “And I wouldn’t marry any man on that list.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Burke mused. “You covet Lord Halliston’s barley holdings. Don’t tell me you couldn’t be lured down the aisle for a cut of those yields.”
“I doubt he’d accept my proposal,” James muttered. “Not many would accept you as a permanent house guest. Always under foot…you’re worse than a corgi.”
Renley snorted, joining James on the sofa.
“Please, can we dispense with calling Olivia a gorgon?” Rosalie interjected, eyes still on the list. She pursued her lips, hitting the end. “Renley…I’m seeing no military men here. Where is your list?”
“I don’t have a list,” he replied, stretching out next to James. “She’s made it quite clear what she thinks of men in uniform. I doubt any of my bachelor friends will fit the bill.”
“Hmm…you might have a point.” Rosalie knew all too well what he meant, having heard Olivia thoroughly trounce him at dinner on their first night at Alcott. “Tell me about these other names then. Are they all unmarried lords between twenty-five and forty?”
“I don’t have their exact ages, but I’d guess yes,” James replied.
“Some of these names are familiar to me,” she admitted. “Lord Henry Morrow…he’s a second son as well, yes? Isn’t his father an earl?”
“Aye, and so is Lord Tarley,” Burke replied. “He’s a bit of a prig. James wants his name off the list, but his father is the Earl of Southeby. He’s of age, he’s unmarried, so he stays on the list. Leave it to the Gorg—Olivia to decide if she wants him.”
She nodded. “We need to see who on this list is in town, and then do our best to get the others here as soon as possible.”
“Already on it,” Burke replied.
“We’ll make the rounds to the clubs this evening and see who we can find,” James explained, getting up off the sofa.
She nodded again. “When will the group arrive from Alcott, my lord?”
“Tomorrow,” he replied. “I just got word from George this morning. He’s ecstatic about his surprise party.” By his tone, one would think the word ‘party’ actually implied a particularly bad case of smallpox.
Tomorrow. Her heart thumped dully. That gave her only today to enjoy this time alone with them.
“What can I do to help with planning?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Christ, do it all,” James replied.
She nodded. “I’ll see to it at once, my lord. I’m sure when your mother arrives, she’ll take the rest of the arrangements in hand.”
His shoulders stiffened at mention of his mother. He turned away, moving towards the door. “I’m out the rest of the morning,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re all on your own for luncheon.” He left without looking back.
