Page 80 of His Grace, the Duke
37
Tom
“So... todaywas a bit of a disaster,” Tom muttered.
He stretched out his legs towards the fire, leaning back in his chair. They were in Rosalie’s room. She sat with her legs curled under her at one end of the small sofa, while Burke brooded like a gargoyle in a chair opposite. Both men had a glass of whiskey balanced on their knee.
“She’s going to make this as hard as possible,” Burke growled.
Tom and Rosalie had returned to the drawing room with Hart to find Burke and Olivia snarling like cats on opposite ends of the sofa. By the time lunch was called and Olivia took her place between Lord Darnley and Lord Seymour, she chose to be as pleasant as a famine. After an hour in her company, they couldn’t flee the table fast enough.
Hart at least seemed to find it riotously funny. “I’d say she won that round,” he said, as they all exited the dining room. He stayed through dinner but left before he could be dragged by the ladies into a drunken game of charades.
Tom, Rosalie, and Burke each found an excuse to retireearly and were now blessedly alone. The fire in her room was warm and inviting. He’d shed himself of his coat and cravat, unbuttoned his waistcoat, and kicked off his shoes.
Rosalie watched Burke with a worried expression on her face. “Won’t you tell us what happened?”
“She’s a gorgon,” Burke muttered. “She doesn’t want to be happy, and she’s going to try to drag us all down with her.”
“You told her you wouldn’t marry her?”
“Aye, and she accused me of trying to jilt her. Then, when I said I could help her find someone better to jiltme, she threatenedyou.”
Tom let out a low curse. “Olivia threatened Rose?”
She sat up, swinging her feet off the sofa. “Why would she threaten me?”
Burke grimaced. “It is a threat on both of us... all of us, really. She means to paint you as the jezebel in the House of Corbin. She claims she can jilt me by calling this a den of iniquity.”
“She didn’t,” Tom growled.
“She did,” Burke replied, eyes on his glass of whiskey.
“This is my fault,” Rosalie whispered. “This is... I haven’t been discreet enough. I... Burke, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t,” Burke snapped. Setting his glass aside, he dropped off the chair to his knees. He cupped her face with both hands. “Look at me.”
Rosalie met his gaze.
“This is not your fault,” Burke said. “Do you hear me? I will protect you from scandal. She will not spew any venom about you or this house.”
“How can you be sure?” she whispered.
“Because she would be tainted by association,” Tom replied,leaning forward in his chair. “To claim this house as some kind of den of sin would be to implicate herself. Everyone would easily refute her claims, including Burke and myself, James. Hell, even George. She would be painted as the scheming one who said ‘yes’ to an engagement, and then fabricated a lie to get herself out of it when it no longer suited.”
Rosalie glanced from Burke to Tom. “But it is not a lie... not completely. The duke knows, he teases me about it. Olivia knows. And you heard Hartington today...”
Tom clenched his jaw, an uncomfortable feeling twisting in his gut. “Aye, I heard.”
Burke let go of Rosalie, joining her on the sofa. He looked from her to Tom. “What did Hartington say?”
“He claimed to know that Tom fancied me,” Rosalie replied.
Fanciedher?That’s not quite how Tom would describe it. He grimaced, feeling that same pang of discomfort he’d felt in the garden.
“What’s wrong?” Rosalie murmured.
He glanced up to see she was watching him, those dark eyes full of questions.
