James stood there, dumbfounded, watching as George claimed Rosalie as his ward. Never in his life before had he witnessed his brother take such a stand. He didn’t care about other people. He didn’t lift a finger to fight for anyone but himself. He certainly never stood up to their mother in any way beyond the occasional spewing of curses or empty threats. No, James weathered every battle alone.
So, what happened to make George step in at last?
James knew the answer without hesitation. Rosalie. It was all coming down to this beautiful, frustrating, intoxicating woman. In one short month, she’d managed to have even George Corbin bending to her magnetic pull. Christ, would any of them survive her?
“George, you can’t be serious,” their mother huffed.
“Oh, I am deadly serious,” George countered. “Miss Harrow is under my protection now, and she will serve the family at my pleasure, not yours.” He turned to Rosalie and waved his hand in gesture that looked curiously like the sign of the cross. “I hereby revoke any and all previous arrangements you made with my mother.”
“This is ridiculous—”
He spun to face their mother. “Are you still here? Be gone. We have no more need of your poison tonight. And since you are clearly so overtired, I’ll be sure Wilson brings a dinner tray to your room.”
“You would order me about in my own home?” she shrieked.
He puffed himself up to his full height, eyes blazing. “It is my house. I am the fucking Duke of Norland. Me!” To make his point, he waved his signet ring in her face. “You wear my jewels and sit at my table and eat my food, mama. Never forget it is my generosity that keeps you so comfortable in your luxurious dotage.”
George picked his needle well, for there was nothing their mother hated more than to be called old. Her face turned three shades of pink before she shrieked, ready to strike George, but he moved before James could step forward, grabbing their mother by both wrists. “Claws in, you cat!”
“You ungrateful boy,” she cried, tugging at him to free her. “You worthless creature!”
“Guards!” he squawked.
James blinked. Guards? Did George think he was at the Tower?
Harris the footman peeked his head around the open doorway. His eyes blew wide as saucers when he saw the duke in a scuffle with the dowager.
“Mother, that is enough,” James muttered, embarrassed for her.
With an angry sob, her eye fell on the footman and she stopped struggling.
Panting, George let her go, taking a step back and smoothing a hand through his tousled hair. “Harris, my dear mama is overtired,” he called. “Please see that she makes it safely to her room and have her maid tend to her there.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The footman stepped forward, ready to escort their mother out.
“This isn’t over,” she hissed at George.
“For tonight at least, it is.”
Snarling under her breath, she swept from the room, not looking back. Harris quickly followed, pulling the door shut with a soft click.
A moment of silence stretched between the three of them. James glanced from Rosalie to George, unsure of what to do next.
“HolyfuckingChrist, that was so stressful.” George sank onto the closest empty chair.
Rosalie stepped around James, dropping to her knees by George. She reached for him with one hand. “Are you alright, Your Grace?”
“James, I think my arse is sweating,” George cried, glancing at him with an anxious look.
James took the chair opposite his brother. “George, you didn’t need to do that…”
“I did,” he replied, fanning himself with his hand. “I should have done it years ago. God, it felt so good to see her squirm. Did you see her? I really think she thought I meant it when I said I’d throw her out.”
James raised a brow. “Did you not?”
“I can’t even dismiss a servant when I know they’re stealing from me. You think I could toss my own mother to the street?”
For a moment, James caught Rosalie’s eye. He had to quickly look away as he saw her lips curl into a smile. George was certainly an odd kind of champion for them both.
“Did you mean what you said?” he asked. “Do you really want me to stay?”
“Of course, I want you to stay,” George replied, sitting forward. “You’re my brother, James. You’re a Corbin. As things stand now, you’re my heir. Your place is here. Always.”
James couldn’t deny the small fluttering he felt in his chest when he heard his brother say the words. It was small…but it was there. He glanced at Rosalie fast enough to watch her head turn as she wiped a tear away from under her eye.
“And me, Your Grace?” she murmured. “Are you certain I’m not more trouble than I’m worth?”
George faced her. “Hmm…that remains to be seen. You certainly have caused quite the stir. But anyone who is willing to stand up to my fearful mama is a friend worth having, eh James?”
She laughed. It was a soft sound, low in her throat. She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes going wide as if the sound surprised even her.
“I’ve never actually had a ward before,” George went on. “I’m not sure of the protocol. What do I do with you? Dress you? Do you need a spending allowance? Feed you, of course. Dancing lessons or…you’re probably too old for a French tutor. Do you want to learn German?”
“I don’t need anything, Your Grace,” she said with another soft laugh. “I thank you for your generosity, and I’m willing to help you in any way I can. I mean to earn my keep.”
George’s eyes lit up as he glanced from James to Rosalie. “This is fantastic,” he cried. “You’ll be like my own little shadow. Oh Cabbage, there’s so much fun we can have together!”
“George, be serious,” James warned. “Just because she is your ward, that does not entitle you to treat her like a servant. What if you simply live and let her live—”
George held up a hand. “Quiet, James. This doesn’t concern you.”
Rosalie gave James a sympathetic look before turning her attention back to George. “I am in your debt, Your Grace—”
“Say nothing of that,” he replied with a wave of his hand.
Loud voices and laughter in the hall alerted them right before the door to the study was flung open.
“No, I don’t know where—oh—there you are, darling. Prue, I found them!” Piety Nash stumbled into James’ study. She hung on the door, glancing around the room at the three of them.
“Are you lost, sugar plum?” George called.
The forced sweetness between the pair was enough to make James want to gag.
Piety blinked, still holding onto the door. “You’ve been gone for ages, Your Grace. You said you’d play cards with us.” She narrowed her eyes on Rosalie, forcing a smile. “Ah…and Miss Harrow is here too. How nice. We hoped you might indulge our desire for miniature portraits before dinner.”
Rosalie got to her feet, smoothing down her skirts. “Of course, Miss Nash.” She bobbed a little curtsy to them both before making her escape.
“I’ll be along soon too, my candied apple,” George called after them.
Piety gave him a winning smile before she too disappeared. The door clicked shut once again, leaving the brothers alone.
“Heavens,” George muttered, breaking the awkward silence. “That was…she stood up to our mama.”
James let out a slow exhale. “I know.”
“She just…she didn’t flinch or anything. She held her ground. She fought like a lioness.” The incredulity was written across his face…and the awe.
“I know,” James repeated.
“Damn…I think my cock got a little hard.”
James growled. “George, I swear to Christ—”
George laughed. “Easy, little brother. I enjoy my fingers right where they are, thank you very much. That rabid little cabbage would bite them clean off if I dared to approach. She’s all yours.”
Those three words settled inside James like a punch to the gut. No, she wasn’t. Not even close. James feared there was no world in which he could ever change that fact. She didn’t want to belong to anyone. No cages. No marriage.
She doesn’t want you.
His mother’s words echoed in his mind. Rosalie was attracted to him, certainly. Their physical attraction was more than mutual. He could hardly be in the same room as her and still find breath. She would give him her body, but he wanted more. Needed more. The things he wanted most were the very things she refused to ever give.
George shifted off the sofa and James was sure he would leave. He glanced up to see his brother watching him with an odd look on his face. He frowned. “What now?”
“You were right…she doesn’t see you. But I do.”
James’ frown deepened as he sat back, holding his brother’s gaze. “You were listening.”
“Your voice carries,” George replied with a shrug.
James looked away, staring into the empty fireplace.
“I see you, James…and so does that sweet little cabbage.”
James stilled.
“I meant what I said,” George murmured. “She is my ward now. She’s under my protection.” He paused at the door, one hand on the knob. “And I know you care nothing for my advice, but I’m going to give it all the same.”
“Please don’t.”
“She’s knocking at your door, James. Let her in…or let her go.”
George left and James felt the hold on his walls crumble at last.
Let her in, or let her go.
For perhaps only the third time in his life, James had to admit that his brother was right about something. James had to learn to let Rosalie in, or he had to let her go. So why did he feel so completely incapable of doing either?
