Page 50 of His Grace, the Duke
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she murmured. “The events of that night were not... I regret causing any humiliation or frustration.”
He got to his feet, and she did the same. He eyed her curiously. “You don’t have to stand when I stand, you know.”
“It feels odd to stay seated in your presence, sir,” she admitted. She didn’t like being told she was deficient in manners twice in one morning. Swallowing her frustration, she added, “If I do wrong, please continue to instruct me. I’ll learn the rules eventually.”
He lowered his brows, his mouth tipping up on one side. “Yes... but will you ever actually follow them? For those are two different talents, Cabbage.”
She met his gaze, seeing the playfulness there. Why was he being so cordial to her? The last time they spoke in private, he demanded to know his mother’s secrets. She didn’t like worrying about having to unravel his motives. Surely there could be none, for she was nothing to him. He must be teasing because she was an easy target.
“Well, I must carry on,” he said, breaking his gaze away from her. “Lots to do when you’re a duke, eh? Never enough time in the day.”
She dropped into a curtsy. “Your Grace.”
He snorted a little laugh as he turned away. “Lesson numbertwo: You don’t need to curtsy to me when we’re alone,” he called over his shoulder. “Oh—” He paused at the doorway and turned, that rakish smile back on his face. “I suppose I should have said this from the first, but my dear Mama is asking for you.”
24
Tom
“You’ve been quietthis morning,” Tom muttered, following along at Burke’s side as they wove through the busy street.
They were on their way back to Corbin House from the auction lots. Burke always had an excellent eye for horses. He handled all the Corbin family’s hunt, stud, and racing portfolios, earning a percentage of the profits. He seemed pleased with this morning’s find.
Meanwhile, Tom was in turmoil. The events of last night troubled him. Well... one event. A line crossed. A liberty taken. He was terrified to speak his fears aloud and have them realized. But not to speak them was impossible. It’s the reason he tagged along, hoping to get a moment with Burke alone.
“Can I assume you mean to suffocate me with this heavy silence?”
“There is nothing to say,” Burke muttered.
They were moving down a narrow street of shops in the ironworks district. The clang of blacksmiths’ hammers rent the crisp morning air. A stray dog darted in their path, chased after by a street urchin.
“I think there is,” Tom countered. “And I think I know what it is, and if I’m right—”
“Christ, Tom. We’re not talking about this now.” To prove his point, Burke stretched out his long legs, weaving faster through the morning shoppers.
Desperation clawed at Tom as he elongated his stride to keep up. “Burke,please—”
Burke suddenly stopped and spun on his heel. Snatching Tom by the front of his open great coat, he dragged him into the narrow alley between a typesetter’s shop and a key repair store.
Tom grunted as Burke shoved him up against the grimy brick wall, stained black with years of smoke. Burke kept a hand on his shoulder. The brim of his hat was pulled low, casting a shadow over his stormy grey eyes. “You want to do this here? Right here, Tom?”
“I’m sorry,” Tom murmured. There were no other words to be said. He knew this had to be about their kiss last night. In the moment, Burke had accepted it. Hell, in the moment he’d kissed Tom back with enough passion to rip Tom’s soul apart.
But Horatio Burke did not kiss men.
Ever.
Tom knew this. He just hoped that perhaps, with Rosalie between them, it might be different. Perhaps Burke could let himself share his passion. Clearly, Tom was wrong. “I’m sorry,” he muttered again.
“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Burke snapped. “Why the hell are you sorry?”
“I...” Tom swallowed. “I know we touched at Alcott... but that was different. That was about her pleasure, not ours. And there was nothing wrong in it.” He was stumbling allover his words. God, he could barely think straight. “But last night... the kiss. Burke, it doesn’t have to happen again—”
“Stop talking,” Burke growled. He lowered his face until his mouth was inches away, until they were sharing breath.
A slow ache pulsed in Tom’s cock. He couldn’t help it. What the hell was Burke doing? He closed his eyes and leaned away.
Burke cupped his jaw and jerked his chin up. “Look at me, Tom. Look me right in the goddamn eye. If we’re having this conversation, let’s bloody well have it.”
