Page 124 of His Grace, the Duke
She turned, her hands dropping from her hair. She spit the pins into her hand. “We?”
“Well... everyone is going out. The Marchioness of Marlborough has invited us all to the opera tonight. With so many in attendance, we’ll need to use the duke’s box as well.” There was a glint in his eye that told her she ought to be wearing her pearls already... so she could clutch them.
“Burke... what are you hiding in that mind of yours?”
He inched closer, dropping to one knee next to her stool. His hand wrapped around her waist as he leaned in, resting his forehead at the curve of her neck. She took a deep breath, filling her senses with his scent, his warmth, his presence that stirred her to life, even as it calmed her.
He lifted his head with a hazy smile, pecking her lips with a quick kiss. “I have something for you.” He lifted his other hand and set a black velvet pouch on her knees.
She knew without any investigation it was a jewelry case. “Burke,” she whispered, her fingers ghosting over the clasp.
“To be fair, it’s not from me,” he admitted. “James asked me to see that you get it for tonight.”
She glanced up, meeting his stormy grey eyes. “Why—”
“Because unfortunately he cannot join us. He’s already beholden to a night of dinner and political talk at Lord Talbot’s. I weaseled my way out of it, thank God.” He tucked a curl behind her ear, getting to his feet. “He’ll join after, I’m sure. We’re all invited to take a late supper at Marlborough House.”
She looked back at the pouch on her lap. “And this is...”
“Consider it armor,” he replied with a grin. “The Theatre Royal is little more than a social gladiatorial ring that masquerades as a place where operas are performed. Your fan shall be your sword. Let that be your shield.” He gestured at the pouch. With a wink, he left, ringing her bell for her before he closed her door with a soft snap.
Taking a breath, she undid the clasp and flipped open the velvet pouch. She gasped, covering her hand with her mouth. Resting on the black velvet was a diamond choker that dripped with brilliance. The stones cascaded like water droplets, some as large as her thumbnail. A small paper sat folded beneath it. She slipped it out and read the note in James’s slanted scrawl.
I know you will never accept a tiara from me, or anything that comes with it. So this will have to do. And before you give me a thorough tongue lashing, know this is fake. The stones are polished glass. You can wear it tonight without any awkwardness or feelings of obligation.
Yours, J.C.
She couldn’t breathe. First the duchess’ casual remark in the morning room. Now this. James Corbin wanted to marry her. He wanted to see her in a tiara, marked before all as his viscountess.
But he still believed she would never marryhim. She’d said as much... more than once... to his face. In her heart, even a day ago, she’d believed it. But being with Burke and Tom changed everything. Seeing their love for each other, sensing their longing for James... it shifted her priorities. They were both doing everything to bend to meet her needs, giving her exactly what she wanted. If she loved them all, was she willing to do the same?
58
Burke
As Rosalie camefloating down the stairs, it was all Burke could do not to drop to his knees and cry out for her to marry him on the spot. That, or he would throw her over his shoulder and drag her back up those stairs to his bed, never to leave. Tom and James could relieve him when he found himself in need of water or a nap.
She looked like a goddess. A queen. An enchanted fairy princess. Her dark curls were piled artfully high on her head, with one tendril draped over her shoulder. Her dress was a thing of shimmering white beads that sparkled in the candlelight. Each movement of her legs as she descended the stairs made it blink like so many stars.
And that necklace. Eros, have pity on a poor mortal soul.
Next to him, Tom stilled. “Oh... shit,” he muttered, his hands suddenly forgetting how to put on gloves.
Burke could easily sympathize. How he was going to survive this night with this aching cockstand, he had no idea. He cleared his throat, and Tom tugged his glove on.
“You still think this is a good idea?” Tom said under his breath.
Burke still had his eyes locked on Rosalie, who was now accepting a wrap from the waiting hands of her maid. “It’s the best idea we’ve ever had.”
***
The ride to the Theatre Royal didn’t take long. Burke was wedged in a carriage with Tom and the Swindons. Tom did an admirable job of distracting the ladies, making them twitter and laugh. It seemed, now that all thought of marriage to any of them was firmly off the table, Tom could be himself again and flirt without appearing constipated or possessed.
As soon as they arrived, Burke took the arm of the countess and led the way into the receiving hall. It was crowded with guests. All the ladies glittered in their jewels, towers of feathers in their hair. Groups stood together, laughing and talking loudly, waving hands and clinking glasses.
The countess quickly slipped off his arm, called away by a friendly face.
“How do we do this?” Tom muttered, coming to stand at his back.
