Page 65 of His Grace, the Duke
“Burke... come sit,” Tom said, voice low. He was back on the sofa.
But Burke couldn’t possibly sit still.
Rosalie Harrow burst into his life, swinging her left fist at that drunkard like any back-alley brawler, and Burke had been lost. He should have dropped to his knees then and proclaimed himself hers. At this point, walking away from Rosalie was an impossibility. He wanted to be entangled in her in every way. Always. Not just her body—which was goddamn perfection—but her clever mind, her goodness, her resilient spirit. She was meant for him, and he for her.
He huffed. The Lord clearly had a sense of humor, for the woman who set Burke’s heart aflame was also an angsty, complicated, obstinate siren who was going to challenge him every day for the rest of his life.
“Did you hear that?” Tom muttered.
Burke spun to face the door. The sound of George’s muffled laughter had him on the move. If Tom and James were following him, he didn’t care. He burst through the drawing room door, leading the way to the entry hall. His heart clenched tight as he saw her, magnificent in her glittering evening gown. It reminded him of champagne, the way it caught the light like bubbles in a glass. George was removing his evening coat from around her shoulders. She glanced back at George as he said something too low for Burke to hear. Whatever he said made her laugh. The sound pierced Burke straight through the heart. He watched as George’s fingers brushed along her arms as he dragged the coat down.
Burke’s mind went blank as he launched himself across the entry hall. “Get your hands off her,” he growled.
George spun around. His eyes went from narrowed with a laugh to wide with surprise.
“Burke,” Rosalie cried. “Burke,no—”
His hands were within an inch of grabbing onto George’s waistcoat when a pair of thick arms wrapped around his shoulders, dragging him back.
“Easy, Burke. Leave him,” Tom panted.
In moments, James was on him too, hooking an arm around his middle. Together, the men held him back from George. The insufferable arse just laughed. He even took a half-step closer to Rosalie, who stood still as a statue, eyes wide with shock.
“Burke, what are you doing?” she cried.
“Didn’t I tell you, Cabbage? Your men waited dutifully for your return,” George jeered. “They’re such good little guard dogs. Such loyal chaps.”
Next to him, Burke felt James stiffen.
“Where the hell have you been?” James barked.
“Shh,” George replied, raising a finger to his lips and pointing up the stairs. “Do you want to wake the whole house?”
“Why did you take her?” Burke pressed.
“Take her?” George gave an affronted look as he turned to Rosalie. “Cabbage, did I take you against your will like a Saracen knight and drag you away to some unspeakable fate?”
“No,” she replied softly.
Tom and James loosened their hold on Burke, and he shrugged himself free.
“Someone better start talking,” James demanded. “Do you have any idea the damage you’ve both caused tonight? Do you know how hard it will be to keep it contained?”
“So then don’t,” George said with a shrug. “I can see it now: ‘Duke of Norland leaves boring concert early to attend to his business affairs, personal assistant assisted.’”
“That will not be the headline and you know it,” James countered.
“Don’t we own one of the papers? We can make it say whatever we want—”
“That is not the point!”
“Why own a paper if we can’t control what it prints?”
“Rose...” Tom’s deep voice cut through the brothers’ bickering. “Are you alright? Please just tell us that much.”
She met Tom’s gaze, and several emotions flickered across her face at once. Burke tried desperately to read them. Longing, of course. She was mad for Tom, and he for her. Their chemistry was electric. But there was something more... resentment? Mistrust? She schooled her expression too fast for him to get a clear read.
“I’m fine,” she murmured.
