Chapter Ten

Today is the day that I take control of my own future and happiness.

Rosamunde gave herself a cheery smile as she passed by her mirror, not even minding the cracks on the left side. While she didn’t feel optimistic or remotely encouraged, she had come to the decision after last night that happiness wasn’t going to come to her, she would have to claim it. She made her way to the balustrade along the stairs.

No one else would be looking out for her. It wasn’t like she could disappoint her father and stepmother any more than she did simply by breathing.

Hopefully Bryn wasn’t upset too much with her for having gone back to the house, but she’d had to do this to feel decent about herself. And she did get to meet his friends.

If those were two of the men he was thinking about setting her up with, she wasn’t all opposed to it. They’d both been delightfully charming and easy on the eyes.

Maybe they wouldn’t feel horrible about taking her virginity.

Even if I think about Bryn whenever I close my eyes.

To hear it, her virginity was the one thing she should be worried about, holding onto it as if it was the greatest gift she could give her husband. Something Rosamunde hadn’t ever understood was why men were praised for being rakes and sleeping with whomever they desired but a woman was immediately shamed for doing the same thing. Even if it was only one man. If it wasn’t her husband, she was a tart.

“Not that I plan on doing such things, but still.”

“That’s a good thing.”

She screeched and whipped around to find her brother leaning against the railing, arms and ankles crossed.

“You scared me, Lovell. What are you doing here?”

He sported a few bruises on his face but didn’t seem all that put out by them. In fact, her brother looked different. Physically he was the same, but he held himself in a way she’d not seen from him before.

It looks good on him.

More self-assured. Less asshole.

She wasn’t fooled, he was still their father’s son and asshole was bred into his pores.

“I’m escorting you to the academy today. We don’t want to be late. Come on.” He rolled his shoulders and pushed away from his resting spot.

“I’m not going.”

She couldn’t handle seeing Bryn. Not after his fury with her behavior yesterday with being back by the docks.

A shrug that reminded her far more of Bryn than their useless father came from her brother.

“He sent a missive this morning. Said he expected you there. Had something to tell you about the side project?”

Her entire body flared to life. He wasn’t reneging on their deal.

Lovell canted his head to the right as he began down the stairs. “What are you doing with him? What is this side project you have going on?”

“He’s teaching me how to protect myself. I was grabbed one night and he saved me.” The words tumbled from her mouth without much thought. It wasn’t like the statement was a lie, it simply wasn’t the full truth.

Fury darkened Lovell’s eyes and he stopped and pivoted to face her completely. “Who was it?”

“It’s been handled.”

“I should have been there.” A firm head shake. “I’ve been a shit brother and I’m sorry, Rosamunde.”

Her mistrust of her family raged full force, and while part of her had waited years to be protected by her brother, even if he was younger, she still couldn’t believe he wasn’t after something. All she could do was give him a shaky smile.

Sadness replaced the fury and shared space with personal disgust. “I know I deserve your distrust but I don’t like it.” He spun forward. “Let’s go, he doesn’t like it when I’m late.”

Honestly, she’d not planned on seeing Bryce so soon. She’d been in the process of making an excuse as to why she couldn’t go to the academy but now, she had no choice.

Swinging on her cloak, she waited by the door as her brother got into his own coat and gloves. When he propped his hat on his head, she ducked her chin to hide the smile that teased up her lips. He’d taken to wearing it like Bryn, not straight but at a jaunty angle.

As they walked outside, she fought back a shiver. It’s going to be a long walk. However, when she glanced at the bottom of the walk to their townhouse, she found her father’s carriage waiting.

Bitterness seeped into her. Of course his son couldn’t walk in the cold but his daughter could.

I hadn’t asked. But there was no point, her father wouldn’t ever spend on her like he did his son.

They climbed in and Lovell pounded the head of his walking cane against the roof. The carriage set off and she curled her toes in her shoes and told herself she would be warm once she was in the building. That was one thing she could say, it was pleasant in there. She’d learned to tune out the sounds of flesh on flesh as the men fought, spending the time writing in her diary. Unless Bryn was one of the men. She couldn’t help herself then, staring at him from beneath lowered lids.

Fluid. Masculine. Dangerous. Beautiful in a rough way.

Tightening her thighs together, she shifted on the seat before looking out the small window as they rolled through London’s cold streets. Black smoke chugged up from all the stacks, darkening the already gray sky.

I want out of here. A place where the sky is blue and there’s grass for endless distance as far as I can see.

“What do you think, Rosamunde?”

She jolted at her brother’s voice. “About what?”

Where before he would have yelled at her for ignoring him, he merely gave her an indulgent smile.

“I was asking if you were excited to meet your husband-to-be? Father says he should be here within the month.”

Panic swarmed through her, nearly choking her. Swallowing a few times, she managed to shrug her shoulders. “He didn’t say anything to me about it so I’m not sure how I feel.”

He nodded, but thankfully whatever he was about to say next didn’t happen as the carriage rocked to a halt. Lovell hopped out with ease and she watched him take two steps away before he turned back and returned to the carriage.

Rosamunde didn’t move, thinking he was coming back in and they would be heading elsewhere. When he held out his hand, she furrowed her brow.

Lovell shook his hand and huffed.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you down,” he grumbled. “If you’d hurry. I don’t want to be late.”

Sliding over the seat, she took her brother’s hand and allowed him to assist her down. He released her immediately and struck out for the door, leaving her behind. She didn’t blink twice about it when he vanished inside the academy as she continued to remain outside in the cold.

With a glance to the driver, she gave him a nod of thanks and made her way over the cleared path. For a moment she debated knocking but when the next gust of icy wind shot through her clothing, she decided against it and pushed her way inside.

Instantly surrounded by heat, she allowed a small moan of relief to escape before she ensured the door had latched behind her.

“Miss Fletcher.”

Turning in the direction of the voice, an honest smile lifted her lips as she watched Falcon striding toward her. The man was beyond handsome. He moved with a grace missing from a lot of the men she saw, not that there were that many, but still. She sensed a bit of wildness within him, much like Bryn, that he kept hidden, but she didn’t doubt it was there.

“Mr. Morgan, what a pleasure to see you again.”

He reached her and took her hand, bending over it and brushing a kiss along the back of her glove.

“Falcon, my dear. Ignore what my grump of a friend says. We’re friends so you get to call me Falcon. If he has a problem, he can try to beat me in a fight.”

She couldn’t help but laugh.

Across the room, she watched as Bryn scowled at the two of them before he knocked down his opponent with two swift jabs to the chin. Then he stomped off.

Falcon merely winked at her before tucking her hand in the curve of his arm, leading her to the spot which had become hers. One of the men had drawn a large, cushioned chair for her over by the fire and there was a small table as well.

Not leaving her side until she was settled, Falcon gave her another small bow before he walked away. Rosamunde was quite content here by the fire, in her comfortable chair.

* * * *

“You’re in a fucking shit mood. And have been all day, even before we left the academy.”

Bryn looked up at his friend, who walked in the study and sank into a chair across from him. Anger stirred again with the mental recollection of Falcon walking with Rosamunde to the space the men of the academy had created for her.

“I’m fine.”

Falcon shrugged and propped his feet up on the table between them. “If you like her, tell her.”

“Not talking about it.”

“Of course not.” He got up and poured a drink for each of them. “But if we were,” he continued as he passed Bryn one, “she feels the same way about you.”

“She’s promised to another.” The words were ripped from his throat.

“Right, the letch.” Falcon reclined back and hooked his boot on the opposite knee. “Are you going to let that happen?”

“What choice do I have? I’m not staying here.”

“Ballocks. It’s better and a far more legit choice to make a play for her hand than this other asinine idea you have of helping her find a man to take her innocence.”

Bryn squeezed the tumbler, took a deep breath and glared at his friend. “It wasn’t my idea. She wanted help.”

Falcon drained the amber liquid and leaned forward, boot heel hitting the floor with a thump.

“Stop being obtuse. You know fucking well what I’m talking about. I don’t give two fucks about you trying to help her find a cock, but I know you and you’re going to kill any man who touches her.”

Bryn forced his jaw to unclench. “I’m helping her.”

“Have Remington do it. You know he loves ladies.”

The growl grew.

Falcon pressed. “If it means nothing to you, why not Piers Weaver? He’s known for his charm with the ladies. They both know how to be discreet, so it won’t get back to her parents that they touched her, fucked—”

Crash! Bryn swore as he looked across the room to where his shattered glass had fallen to the floor, the remaining liquid running down the wall.

“Right,” Falcon said in a droll tone, leaning back in his chair, plucking at a non-existent speck on his clothing. “Doesn’t mean a fucking thing to you.”

“I don’t see you offering.”

Falcon leaned back. “One, I’m not that much of an ass and two, don’t pretend you have no clue where my heart is.”

Bryn did and he felt for his friend. Keely either was playing with him, or she truly had no idea how much his best friend was in love with her. Had been since they were children.

“This isn’t about me, Falcon. It’s about Rosamunde. She asked me to help her and if you’d seen her face when she did, you would understand how difficult it was for the question to even pass her lips. I can’t let her down.”

“You’re halfway in love with her already.”

Instead of answering, Bryn pushed up from the chair and got another drink for himself and carried the decanter over to top off Falcon’s. His friend was silent as he returned to his seat.

They drank without conversation until he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Who do you think would be good for her? Other than Remington or Weaver?”

“Hell no.” Falcon raised his hands. “I’m not fucking saying anything about this because you’re going to take it out on me the next time we fight. You are on your own there. I will, however, say this. There are discreet places that men go to for pleasure. There are also women who go to places like that for the same thing. Why not there? No personal connection to you and you won’t have to spend the rest of your life imagining her with one of your friends.”

“Disgusting how you sit here and speak about my friend like this,” Keely said, surprising them both.

“Damn it, Keely! Why didn’t you tell us you were here?” Bryn whipped around to glare at his sister.

She walked into view from where she’d been, apparently hiding, in the corner. “I don’t answer to you, brother. I was in here first. You should be more aware of your surroundings.” Clucking, she rounded on Falcon. “You didn’t jump on taking my brother up on his offer and I respect that. I hope you get the one you want.”

He held her gaze. “I will. Make no mistake, Keely. She’s already mine, she simply isn’t aware of that.” A pause. “Yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Typical men. I know you may not want to hear this, especially from me, but have you thought of taking her to a courtesan?”

“She doesn’t need a woman, Keely. She wants a man to show her pleasure.”

His sister walked to the door only to pause and turn back. “Right, but if she doesn’t know what is pleasurable for herself, how will she know if a man is doing it right for her? Rosamunde is lacking confidence. The one thing they have in abundance is confidence. Help her learn to be proud of her curves, be proud of who she is as a woman.” Keely faced the door again. “Just a thought.”

Neither man spoke as Bryn’s sister exited the room and tugged the door closed behind her.

They shared a glance but continued to remain silent. Bryn hated to think it but his sister may have had a point. Sliding his gaze back to Falcon, he waited as his friend worked through what they’d heard.

“You don’t think she’s going there, do you?” Rage and something else lined the low timbre of Falcon’s question.

“It’s my sister, who knows.”

“Come on, we need to go out. White’s for us.”

Falcon rose, even though Bryn could see the reluctance in him. Hell, he felt it himself but sitting here wasn’t good for either of them.

“I’m in the mood to hurt someone.” Bryn rocked back on his heels before heading to the door.

White’s wasn’t the place for them after all. Not today.

* * * *

It neared midnight when Bryn dragged his aching body back into the townhouse. Moving quietly so as not to wake the household, he went to the kitchen and got some water to clean his injuries.

He’d just put the cloth to the first cut on his face when his father filled the doorway. He studied him before striding over and taking the cloth from his son’s hand only to settle it against the cut himself.

“You and Falcon?”

“Us against the world, Papa. Like always.”

He grunted and wiped away at the blood. “Anything I need to be worried about?”

“No. Nothing will come of this.”

A small chuckle burst from his father. “Your Mama will know, trust me, son. Something will come of it.”

“She can’t protect me forever, she has to realize that at some point.”

His father moved the cloth, rinsed it off and resumed cleaning Bryn’s face. “I wouldn’t suggest telling her that or you will have other injuries that need tending.”

“I know.” And it was true, his mother protected him with the same passion and fierceness she did when he’d been a boy.

“This have anything to do with your lovely Miss Fletcher?”

Bryn had a brief moment where he thought to deny what his father said but decided against it. “Everything.”

“Usually does have to do with a woman who ties us up in knots.” The marquess pulled up a chair and sat before cleaning off the other side of Bryn’s face.

Bryn did his best to stay still but the removal of the dried blood hurt more in some places than in others.

“Want to talk about it?” His father angled his face up and continued cleaning.

“Not particularly.”

“It’s not like my romance with your mother was conventional, Bryn.” He paused and set the rag in the bowl but made no move to pick it up again.

Bryn touched his busted lip. “Or Uncle Phillip’s with Fyre. Uncle Trace’s with Auntie Lea either.”

“Exactly. So my point is, I won’t judge. I won’t say you need to do one thing or another. I’ll listen. Something my father didn’t do.”

“Grandpa tries.” It was hard to point it out but he had seen the change in his grandfather and wanted to make sure it wasn’t forgotten.

“Now.” His father’s voice was a low rumble, showing the formidable man he had the capability of being. “He wasn’t when I was growing up. Or even until after my princess returned to my life.” He swiped the rag, wrung it out and pushed it back on Bryn’s face.

Biting back his cry of pain when his father pressed too hard on an open cut, Bryn remained still.

“He tried to pay her off to take you and go away.”

Bryn hadn’t heard about that. “When was that?”

“When you were first here. Trust me when I say I fucked up more times than she should have been willing to forgive me for. I only hope it doesn’t take you the same number of mistakes.”

“Why is that?”

“Because your mother is one of a kind and I don’t believe there’s another woman out there willing to put up with the fuck-ups like she did.”

With that, his father exited the room, leaving him alone with cooling water, a bloodied rag and the belief his father had pretty much told him to stop fucking around and get his woman.