Beautiful Things: Chapter 63

George was a fucking dead man. Announcing Burke’s engagement to the whole county was in the plan. James watched Rosalie’s face as George prattled on, each careless word striking her like a physical blow. She fell apart when the crowded ballroom shouted their cheers to the future Baron and Baroness Margate.

One thing was certain: she loved Burke. Whatever else she said about marriage, she loved him. James felt an inexplicable ache. Of course, he understood the appeal, for he loved the idiot too…if not quite in the same way.

But James was also jealous. He was jealous of Rosalie that she could so easily earn another’s love and devotion, especially a devotion as hard won as Burke’s. But he was jealous of Burke too. Burke who wasn’t afraid to let himself want her.

James’ own passing infatuation wasn’t going away. All his usual tricks were failing him. He tried minimizing her charms, focusing on her flaws. He tried avoidance. Christ, he’d even been a total arse, lost his temper, and said all those callous things in the library…right before he kissed her.

He was always so in control, so careful. But with one look from her, he fell apart. He hated feeling so unraveled.

As soon as this dance was over, Burke would be tracking her down. James could already see the tension spilling off his friend’s shoulders as he led Olivia into the set to begin the dance.

“Hey, what the hell is happening?”

James turned sharply to see Renley striding over. He dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s a goddamn disaster.”

“What’s going on? Is this real or just for show?”

“It’s real enough,” James muttered. “But we’re going to get him out of it.” Renley raised a curious brow, but James said, “Not here and not now. I’ll fill you in later.”

Renley frowned. His eye was also roving around the ballroom.

“Is that Marianne I saw you with earlier? I thought she would still be in mourning.”

“Not here, not now,” Renley echoed. “Have you seen Rosalie? She took off.”

“I know, and we need to find her.” James skirted around the edge of the ballroom, Renley following just behind.

“She seemed pretty upset…”

“That’s an understatement,” James growled. “Look, let’s split up and find her. When you do, bring her to the music room. As soon as the dance is over, Burke’s going to be on the hunt too. Don’t get in his way. He’s out for blood.”

“Christ, because of Rosalie? What—”

“No, not her,” James clarified. “The blood Burke craves is decidedly Corbin flavored.”

As soon as they were in the grand gallery, Renley raised his voice to a normal volume. “Where would she go?”

“I’m not sure—you there!” James waved at a footman. “Billings, right?”

The footman nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

“Have you seen Miss Harrow?”

“No, my lord.”

James shouted down the length of the gallery to the other footmen lining the way. “Have any of you seen Miss Harrow?”

No one replied in the affirmative.

“Keep both eyes open,” he called. “Any sign of her is reported directly to me.” He turned to Renley. “I’ll get her maid to search her room. You cover the ground floor here. Check the large and small library. Get a footman to open my mother’s study if you have to.”

“And if she’s run off?” Renley called after his already retreating form.

James slid to a stop. “It’s one in the morning. Where the hell would she go?”

Renley shrugged. “She’s a wild thing, James. She may not have wings, but I wouldn’t put it past her to fly off.”

“Just…find her,” he said with a sigh. “Or Burke’s going to have a first course of Renley before he feasts on us Corbins.”

Rosalie wasn’t anywhere to be found and not one of the dozens of servants seemed to have seen her. James checked the whole of the new wing, finally resorting to calling her name in an increasingly angry and desperate tone.

A sudden thought occurred to him, fragile as mist. Something Renley said…something about flying…

“Goddamn it.” James turned on his heel and swept down the deserted hallway. Music from the ballroom filtered down to this far end of the house. The dance was still going strong. It must be a massive set, or a long reel…or both. Good, because James needed more time.

He shoved his way out the back door, trotting down the dark stairs and across the garden towards the stables. Renley said she might fly off. Well, the little bird didn’t have wings, but she could ride well enough. If James felt his world crashing down, if everything was being ripped from his arms, he’d be fighting the urge to flee too.

Hell…he fighting that urge.

Alcott was doubling its pork production because of James’ investments. The south barley fields were yielding better crops. The mine was producing again. Leases were up, taxes were being collected with consistency. But all his hard work was for naught. He was nothing but the second son. He lived at the whims of his ridiculous brother and scheming mother.

He stomped his way over to the stable. The yard was busy, as all the coachmen and footmen busied about, laughing and gaming and smoking pipes.

“Wallace,” he called to the groom. “Has Miss Harrow passed through here?”

The young lad looked love-struck, which was answer enough. Did she ever turn a man’s head? Fucking hell.

“She’s inside, m’lord,” young Wallace chirped.

James swept into the stable. It was dark, the only real light coming from the torches in the courtyard. He knew without asking where she’d be. He moved down the row of stalls, stopping at the one on the end for little Magellan.

Rosalie stood there in the straw in her ballgown and pearls, back turned, brush in hand, currying the pony. She was singing softly to it; a tune James didn’t recognize. Little Magellan perked up his ears.

“Planning to run away?”

She gasped, dropping the brush to the straw, and spun around, dark eyes wide. Her hair looked so different all done up in those curls. It showed off the arc of her neck, but he preferred it down, all wild and tumbling about. And his mother’s pearls were the first thing he noticed when she came floating down the stairs. He recognized the necklace as a gift from his father. He liked seeing her in Corbin family jewels—

“How did you find me?” she whispered.

“I was told you would fly away given half a chance,” he replied. “I thought you might seek help from a surefooted accomplice.”

“Did he send you?”

He frowned. “I should ask you to be more specific…but in either case the answer is no. I sent myself. Look, about what happened earlier—”

“Don’t.” She held back a sob as she spun around. “Please, I can’t discuss it now. Not now…not with you.”

James fell silent. He’d lost her trust with his outburst in the library. First with that horrid verbal assault…then that bloody kiss. He ought to apologize for both, but it would probably only make her cry, and that he couldn’t bear, not when he already felt so frayed. She didn’t want comfort from him, and it pained him deeper than he’d have thought possible.

If James wanted to fix what was broken between them, he’d have to make the first attempt. “What do you need?”

She stilled, holding the brush. “What?”

He leaned over the top of the stall door. “I’m asking what you need. Tell me, and I’ll make it happen if I can.”

She took a few shaky breaths before turning slowly around again. “I want to go home. I want to go to London to see my aunt. I want—I need to be with my family. I need to think and…can you do that?”

A buzzing feeling vibrated inside him. “Right now? You want to go to London at one o’clock in the morning?”

“Well…if we leave now, we could be there by breakfast,” she said with a shrug.

This was quite possibly the worst idea James had ever indulged. But this little bird wanted to fly free, and James found himself wanting the same thing. “I’ll see it done.”

Her lips parted in surprised. “Wait—really? Right now?”

“Why would we wait?”

“I…have no things. My trunk…my bonnet and dresses,” she gestured at her ballgown.

“They sell clothes in London, do they not?”

“Of course, but—”

“I’ll buy you a replacement wardrobe. Here—” He shrugged out of his evening coat and handed it over the stall door. “Put this on for now. I’ll go see the carriage prepared.”

Their fingers brushed as she took the coat. The sleeves were too long, and it hung off her at the shoulders, but James couldn’t deny she looked edible all the same. Seeing her in his coat, the Corbin jewels, those wide eyes…it made his cock twitch.

This was a terrible idea. He smiled anyway.

“Will we…tell anyone?” she whispered.

He met her excited gaze. “You tell me. This is your plan. I’m just setting it in motion.”

She considered for a minute before she shook her head. “No…tell no one.”

James took a breath. This was madness. As much as he wanted to abide by her wishes to ask no questions and offer no excuses, he couldn’t stay silent. “Burke’s engagement was not his idea. They are both under duress. He’s in love with you. The second he realizes where we’ve gone, he will come after us.”

She took a shaky breath, eyes welling with tears. “What do you mean duress?”

“My mother found out about Olivia and George,” he explained. “She’s blackmailing the Marquess to buy Burke a respectable wife and a title, threatening to ruin Olivia if she doesn’t agree.”

Rosalie raised a hand to her mouth. “How despicable.”

“It’s her love language,” James replied with a shrug.

She scowled. “Ruination and misery as a language of love?”

He nodded. “But they will be rich and titled…which will make it all worth it in her eyes.”

Heat burned across Rosalie’s face. “No, it won’t. And we’re going to stop it. We’re going to London, and we’ll make a plan, and then you and I are going to get Burke and Olivia free of this mess.”

He raised a brow. “You still want to go?”

She gave a curt nod.

“Why?”

She put her hands on her hips, her eyes dancing with hidden fire. “Because your mother seeks to add me to her collection too, and I will not be used by her or anyone. Leaving sends a message she needs to hear: Rosalie Harrow cannot be bought.”