His Grace, The Duke: Second Sons Book Two

Rosalie took a deep breath through parted lips, letting her eyes trace over Burke. He stepped fully into the room, his stormy gaze sweeping once around, taking in the teetering piles of dress boxes and loose tissue paper. His magnetic pull charged the air between them as he gave her a look torn between wanting to strangle her or kiss her breathless. Was it possible the others could miss this heat between them?

Mrs. Robbins shuffled in behind him, huffing in indignation. “Really, Mr. Burke, this is most inappropriate. Come away this instant.”

Burke’s eyes locked on Rosalie. “I need to talk to you,” he said, his deep voice raising gooseflesh down her arms.

The modiste glanced from Rosalie to Burke. “Well…ze plot thickens,” she murmured just loud enough for Rosalie to hear. “Bonjour, Monsieur Burke.”

Burke’s eye flicked to her. “Paulette,” he said with a tight nod.

Paulette gave him one of her knowing smiles and jealousy churned in Rosalie’s stomach. Why was Burke on first name terms with a London modiste?

Rosalie put a false smile on her face. “You have not heard, Paulette. Monsieur Burke is newly engaged.”

Mrs. Robbins and the maids all squealed with excitement.

“I am pleased for you,” said Paulette, still glancing curiously between them. “Who is the lucky woman?”

“Lady Olivia Rutledge, daughter of the Marquess of Deal,” Rosalie replied. She knew she was being childish, but her heart was too battered to act sensibly.

Burke said nothing, but a muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Oh, my heavens,” Mrs. Robbins gasped. “A marquess’ daughter for our dear Burke? And His Grace settled too! A happy Christmas has come early to Corbin House.”

The maids fell into fits of girlish giggles.

“We need to talk,” Burke repeated. “Now.”

Mrs. Robbins bobbed on the balls of her feet, clearly at a loss for how to handle the situation. The maids watched in confusion, smiles falling.

“We’re nearly finished here,” Rosalie said, brushing her hands down the fabric of the new dress. “Mrs. Robbins, perhaps you could show Mr. Burke to the library. I’ll be along as soon as—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Burke growled, taking a step closer. “I’ll do this with an audience if that’s really what you want. Either make them go or let them stay and hear every word I have to say.”

Rosalie’s heart thrummed in her chest as she glanced from the modiste to the housekeeper.

“Really Mr. Burke, I’ll not tolerate rudeness,” said Mrs. Robbins, bringing herself to her full height. She still hardly reached the middle of his chest.

Burke turned on her with a glower. “Mrs. Robbins, I have not begun to be rude—”

“Enough,” Rosalie called. She squared her shoulders at Burke, even as she spoke to the housekeeper. “Mrs. Robbins, please forgive Mr. Burke. He had a long journey, and he’s clearly overtired.” Burke opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off with a raised hand. “If he wishes to speak to me again in this lifetime, he will go wait in the library. Perhaps you could be so good as to bring him a cup of coffee,” she added. “It might help him recover his good humor.”

Burke simmered with rage. Rosalie was sure, if she dared to touch him, his skin would crackle like a log on the fire.

“I think I ‘ave everything I need,” came Paulette’s voice from her side. She gestured to Rosalie’s dress. “Keep zis one. It fits you perfectly. Please tell your viscount I will ‘ave ze rest altered and delivered tonight.”

It was impossible to miss the way Burke flinched at the words ‘your’ and ‘viscount.’ With a last growl, he turned and stalked out, shutting the door with a snap.

“Good gracious, whatever happened to put him in such a foul mood?” cried Mrs. Robbins. She turned to Rosalie. “Are you alright, dear?”

“I’m fine,” Rosalie said softly.

Mrs. Robbins gave a curt nod. “Well…what a day. Clara, come help me with the coffee then, before he has another fit.” She snapped her fingers at one of the maids and they both quickly left.

Rosalie blinked a few times, swallowing her tears. She glanced over her shoulder to see the other two maids were busy putting the clothes back in their boxes. “Was that really necessary?” she muttered at the modiste.

Paulette just smiled again. “You handled him well. I never thought I’d see ze day our Burke bowed to the will of a woman.”

“You know him.” The words were out before she could stop them. “Mr. Burke…you…you’re acquainted?”

“Oui, I ‘ave known him most of his life,” Paulette replied. “His maman is my close friend…and he is like a son to me,” she added, giving Rosalie’s arm a gentle pat.

Rosalie heaved a sigh of relief, tears stinging her eyes again. Heavens, what was wrong with her? She couldn’t remember the last time she cried so much in a single day.

Paulette cupped her cheek. “Whatever happened between you, he is here. And if he is here, he is yours.”

The modiste’s soft-spoken words were enough to crack Rosalie into pieces. She raised her hands, pressing her palms over her eyes as she took a few shuddering breaths. After a few moments, she calmed, lowering her hands from her face.

Paulette stroked her back. “Better?”

Rosalie nodded.

“Bon…now leave zis mess with me.” She gave Rosalie’s cheek another pat. “Go to him, before he drowns himself in his coffee for want of you.”