His Grace, The Duke: Second Sons Book Two
His Grace, The Duke: Chapter 21

They arrived back at Corbin House just as the heavens opened again. Dismounting in the stable yard, they found Mrs. Robbins clucking like a furious mother hen. She roundly reproached Renley for threatening a young lady’s health, dragging Rosalie under the safety of her large umbrella with a strong arm. Renley acted appropriately contrite, standing in the rain to receive his admonishment.

With a final cluck, Mrs. Robbins took Rosalie under her wing and dragged her straight up the stairs, plopping her into a bath. Rosalie didn’t complain. The steaming hot water felt divine. She soaked for almost an hour while Fanny helped her wash her hair again, using the same French hair oil that smelled thickly of roses.

In no time, she was wrapped in a dry chemise and her soft blue dressing robe. Her dark hair was braided, with the long plait draped over her shoulder. Mrs. Robbins perched her on the sofa in her bedroom before a roaring fire, a cup of hot chocolate clutched in her hands. She curled her legs under herself, letting the warmth of the fire heat her cheeks.

A tray sat on the table beside her with the remnants of an evening meal—thin-sliced beef on bread with a wedge of delicious cheese, leek soup with dill and a dollop of cream, and the crumbs of a ginger biscuit that she dipped into her cocoa.

She was nodding off when she heard low voices in the hall. The door to Burke’s room opened and closed. She watched their shared door, imagining him on the other side with his valet. The soft voices continued until there was the sound of a closing door. A few minutes passed before she heard a soft knock.

“Enter,” she called.

Burke stepped into the room wearing a patterned red silk robe over his bare chest. The swirl of his dark chest hair was visible in the plunging “V.” He padded silently across the floor on bare feet. “You’re still awake,” he murmured, sinking onto the sofa and dropping his head into her lap.

She shifted slightly, setting her cup of cocoa aside. “And you are very late, sir.”

He just grunted, reaching for her hand. He brought it to his lips, kissing her palm.

She dropped her other hand to his inky black hair, stroking it back with her fingers. “How did it go?”

“Awful,” he muttered. “Morrow and Barbridge are off the list. We convinced Royce to come to the dinner on Friday.”

She paused her hand. “Two off the list?”

He nodded, kissing her palm again. “Morrow is engaged to some French heiress. They’re rushing a wedding by the end of this month. I think she might be in a family way already,” he added, shifting to get comfortable.

It was a shame to lose such an eligible bachelor from the list, but Rosalie was glad to know. They had no time to waste. “And Barbridge?”

Burke wasn’t listening. He turned her hand over with both of his as he kissed down her arm, pausing on the soft flesh of her inner wrist. He breathed against her skin before licking the pulse point. The feel of his warm tongue sent a jolt of fire through her body.

“Burke…” She tried to pull her hand away.

He held tighter, nipping the soft skin with his teeth until she hissed. She gripped his hair with her free hand and gave a little tug. He gentled, peppering soft kisses up her arm as he pulled her down over him. “Kiss me,” he whispered. “End my agony.”

She pursed her lips in a smile. “Are you in agony? You don’t look it, I must say.”

“I just survived five hours in a stuffy gentlemen’s club,” he whined. “I was forced to play hazard until James’ pockets were empty. And I had to listen to not one, not two, but seven lords recount in excruciating detail the bountiful success of their harvests. Shall I tell you all of Lord Farley’s new milling machine?”

“Please spare me,” she replied.

He wrapped his fist around her braid and pulled her down. “If I cannot be spared, neither can you. Now, kiss me like you mean it, or I shall recount every last syllable of his boring report.”

She gave him a steely look. “First tell me what happened with Callum Barbridge.”

He relaxed his hold on her. “His family wealth is utterly spent. The family must retrench. They’ve already vacated Glenrose Park. Poor Cal said if they can’t turn it around, they’ll likely lose the London house as well.”

Retrenchment was common, unfortunately. Lords often lived outside their means, ruining their families and their estates at the gaming tables, or betting on risky speculations and losing it all. She might feel sorrier for Lord Barbridge if she knew the man…she certainly felt for poor Lady Barbridge.

“Are those the only three you met?”

“Yes, but James put out an alert at White’s and Brooks’s to send him word if and when others appear,” he explained. “Between that and the invitations for the engagement party, we should wrangle several more eligible bachelors.”

“Good,” she murmured, giving his hair another stroke.

He glanced up at her, his grey eyes dancing with intensity in the firelight. “So…are you going to tell me about your evening ride with Tom through a perilous thunderstorm?”

She stilled. “Mrs. Robbins told you then.”

“Oh yes, she had much to say on the matter,” he replied, shifting off her lap to sit up. He turned to face her, one arm slung across the back of the sofa, which opened the “V” in his robe even wider.

“Eyes up here, love,” he said with a smirk, tipping her chin up with his finger.

She didn’t bother blushing. The energy he radiated was unmistakable. She knew exactly what he wanted. She also knew what she wanted, what she’d been aching for since she’d first gotten a taste.

He brushed his fingers along her neck. “Did you have a nice time with Tom?” He was fishing and they both knew it.

“Not as nice as it could have been,” she replied, closing her eyes as his fingers trailed down, stopping just above the tie of her chemise.

He tugged her robe open so he could place a kiss on her exposed collarbone. Then he flicked her braid over her shoulder, repeating the kiss on the other side. “What happened?”

She arched into him, turning her face away to expose more of her neck. “We were…interrupted.”

His hand worked the knot of her robe as he kissed her chest. “Interrupted?”

“Yes,” she breathed, raising both hands to rest on his shoulders. “A statue fell.”

He tugged the robe off her shoulders, sliding a hand inside her chemise to cup her breast. “Falling statues,” he murmured, kissing the swell of her breast. “Sounds dangerous.”

Heavens, but this man knew exactly how to stoke her fires. She ran both hands through his hair, holding him to her as he lowered his mouth, teasing her nipple through the thin fabric of her chemise. “She was pushed—ah—”

He looked up at her with those hooded, stormy eyes. “And if no statues were pushed? What might have happened then?” He used both hands to loosen the chemise, giving it a gentle tug until it slid down her arms, exposing her breasts to the chill of the room.

She loved the way he looked at her, feeling his eyes on her. To be the object of his desire was intoxicating. She glanced down, following his heated gaze. Her skin glowed in the firelight as he took a breast in each of his hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. She arched into him, relishing the exquisite jolt that traveled from the tips of her nipples straight to her core.

“You didn’t answer me, love,” he murmured. “If no statues were pushed?”

“Burke…”

He glanced up, his thumbs still rubbing circles against her soft skin. He raised one of his dark brows in silent question.

“I want him.”

The words settled between them. The fire crackled, casting golden light dancing across both their faces.

His jaw hardened slightly as his eyes narrowed. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I want him,” she repeated, trying to keep the trembling from her voice. “I’m aching with want of him. Burke, I need it. Need you both.”

He released a slow exhale, dropping his hands away. “There is no going back from this. If I leave this room…if we do this…”

“I know,” she whispered, brushing her fingers over his lips.

He leaned forward and claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss. Their tongues flicked together as they both moaned. She slipped her hands inside his robe to run her fingers over the bare skin of his chest and shoulders.

“Burke,” she whined. “Please, I need him here with us—”

Burke pulled back, turning away from her. “I’m so goddamn hard.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “I need a minute.” He balanced his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, taking a shaky breath.

She put a hand on his shoulder, and he tensed, sucking in another breath. He was barely holding himself together. She let her hand drop away. After a minute he stood, drawing her up with him.

Burke’s eyes flashed. “Do not break his heart,” he muttered, leaving his unspoken threat hanging in the air.

She held his gaze, chin lifted in defiance. “Do not break mine.”

With a nod, he turned and left through their joint doorway.

Sinking back to the sofa, one hand clutched over her chest, Rosalie could do nothing but wait.