Chapter Twelve

Rosamunde smiled into the fur lining the new cloak she wore as they waited outside the opera house for the rest of the party to join them. She shouldn’t feel such a way, but for the first—okay, second—time in her life she believed she was beautiful.

Keely stood beside her chatting easily with her mother as the men neared them. Rosamunde skimmed her gaze over the approaching males. Lord Heartstone walked beside his father, the Duke of Stokley, who didn’t look too well but that didn’t stop him from being out. Behind them a tiny bit walked Falcon and Bryn.

It was safer for her to keep her eyes on Falcon. His nearness didn’t make her lose her breath or forget how to speak simple words.

Behind those two friends, she observed a man who could only be Falcon’s father. The similarities were obvious, even in the flickering lights from around them. If Falcon took after his father as he aged, Keely was going to be a lucky woman. Attached at his elbow walked a woman who embodied a regal poise Rosamunde was immediately jealous of.

Keely and her mother—she couldn’t call her Ciara no matter how much she insisted—paused in their conversation and hurried to the couple. Rosamunde dug her fingers into the wrap she wore as they hugged one another.

Fraud.

Her brain launched the word at her with unrelenting precision.

You don’t belong here. Certainly not with them.

All her old insecurities rose swiftly. Perhaps not so old after all. Clutching her fingers more tightly inside the cloak, she took one shuffle step backward only to pause when Falcon’s eyes lit up at the sight of her.

Or at least that’s how she took it. He lengthened his stride and got to her then brushed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“You are a vision, Miss Fletcher. Have you been to the opera before? Did you like it? Personally,” he said, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm and steering her to the front of those gathered, “I get bored and tend to make up voices and try to figure out which of the audience is actually doing something untoward.”

A chuckle slid past her lips as she shook her head. “Good evening, Falcon.”

“That’s Mr. Morgan to you.” Bryn’s harsh tone broke in on their conversation.

Falcon laughed even as he shook his head. “No. She’s likable, I’m likable and we’re friends. She can call me Falcon. Now go away, you’re moody and I’m going to introduce her to my parents.”

Trace Morgan and his stunning wife Leona were as kind as everyone else she’d met in the close St. Martin circle. She knew they weren’t actually related but they viewed one another as family. Sooner rather than later they were all inside and Rosamunde was in awe, staring around at the gilded walls, stunning chandeliers and the dresses. The women were wearing things she assumed would be donned if they were going to see the king.

Pearls, sapphires, rubies and more draped from the ears and necks of the women in attendance.

She walked with Keely as they followed the parents to a box. Once they entered, an usher reached out to help her with her cloak. Allowing it, she was pleasantly surprised she wasn’t cold without it.

“You’re stunning, Miss Fletcher.”

A shaky smile turned up her lips at Falcon’s words. She smoothed a hand down the side of her emerald-green dress.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t help it, she cut her eyes toward Bryn even as she responded to Falcon. She had to know, what did he think of her dress?

Bryn stared at her, hunger overflowing his gaze, but then everything faded other than blankness. He gave her a nod and went to claim a seat completely across the box from her.

Heart shattering, she refused to lose the smile and glanced back to Falcon.

“Don’t mind him, he’s fighting his attraction,” he whispered the words in her ear as he escorted her to a seat.

“To you?” The second the words slipped, she wished she could recall them. Falcon made her so comfortable, she had gotten lost in the dream of being able to joke with him.

Falcon laughed aloud, drawing Bryn’s attention once more.

“You’re good for him, Rosamunde. No, not for me. For you.”

She turned her back on Bryn, refusing to let him ruin this night for her. She gave Falcon another smile. “Thank you for your kindness, but that’s not true. He can barely stand to be around me.” A single shrug. “Unless he’s trying to push my embarrassment further. He likes seeing how much he can make me blush.”

“While I hate you think it, you’ve never been so wrong. That man is so confused when it comes to you he isn’t sure of anything anymore. Not beyond wanting you. You and I are going to be amazing friends and you can always call on me if you need anything.”

Is it true? Could he want me? Should I ask him to actually help me get out of the situation I’m in? Maybe he could take me somewhere. Instead of worrying about losing my virginity, maybe he could help me get out of London to somewhere safe. She allowed him to help her into the chair and didn’t look away from him as he bent over her hand. His gaze cooled as he glanced beside her. “Keely.” Then he was gone.

“I like this opera,” her friend said, leaning close. “Last time I went, I was with a group of friends and not my parents.”

A laugh threatened to escape. “I’ve never been, so thank you for bringing me.”

“We’re friends, and don’t take this wrong but I don’t like your family, so I thought you deserved to get away from them for a while.”

“I don’t like them either.”

They shared a smile before turning their focus to the start of the night’s spectacle.

* * * *

At the intermission, she walked with Keely and got a small glass of punch. While they strolled through the building, she spied Bryn in a darkened corner with another woman. Her heart shrank a bit more as she watched him, arm over the woman’s head, nearly caging her in between the wall and his hard body.

As she neared, he lifted his head and held her gaze. Rosamunde smiled at him and gave a small nod before carrying on like he wasn’t dancing on her heart. They had made no promises to each other and he owed her nothing. The man was an earl and had plenty of prospects. Beautiful ones. Her hope from the modiste faded, but she had to get over this foolish notion he would be her knight in shining armor. They had an agreement for a short time.

While the opera was incredible, the joy within her cooled after seeing Bryn. He again sat across the room from her, keeping many others between them. However, she would have sworn his gaze was on her once the lights went down and the focus went back to the stage.

They rode back to the townhouse in separate carriages. Exhausted, Rosamunde didn’t think much of anything other than sleep as the maid helped undress her and she slid between the sheets of a soft bed in a warm room.

* * * *

The next morning, it was a whirlwind of activity as trunks were packed and carriages loaded. She and Keely got a carriage to themselves.

It lingered on the tip of her tongue to inquire as to where Bryn and Falcon were but she kept the words contained. Somehow.

“How long have you assisted at the home, Keely?”

“A few years now. My mother said I needed to do something that helped me feel better about myself. That is one of the things I do. I also work at a home that caters to women who have fallen on hard times and are trying not to have to work the streets simply to make a coin.”

“And do you still love to travel? I remember overhearing your brother and Falcon talking about your love of travel.”

A smile that made Keely go from beautiful to absolutely stunning filled her features.

“Yes. I go when I can. London isn’t really a place I enjoy. I’m not a fan of the evil that thrives in such a place.”

They’d barely made it beyond the inn when Keely faced her in the carriage, propping a leg up on the seat as she angled her back against the wall.

“I’ve waited long enough and now I’m going to ask.”

Rosamunde watched her, unsure of what was to come.

“What the hell is going on between you and my brother?”

Never in her life had she been grateful for growing up in the household she had…until now. Able to keep her facial expressions blank when experiencing shock was a blessing.

“We have a deal. That’s all.” Rosamunde canted her head to the right. “Why do you ask?”

Keely held her gaze without blinking for a long while. Rosamunde, desperate to shift beneath the scrutiny, found a way to hold her ground.

“Interesting.” Keely crossed her arms. “I love my family. Make no mistake, I like you a lot, Rosamunde, but I will bury you if you cross them.”

On one hand, hurt speared through her at the threat but on the other, she appreciated the woman being so blunt and straightforward with her.

A trillion words hovered at her lips to explain what was going on between her and Bryn, but she didn’t utter a single one.

How could she when she wasn’t positive herself?

* * * *

Bryn sat easily in the saddle as he rode Triton, the gelding he’d gotten from his mother’s stables. His current horse, Storm, that he’d had since he was a boy, was already out at Heartstone, recovering from an injury.

His mind whirled so fast he couldn’t keep up. Number one priority was how the hell he was going to manage to keep his hands off his lioness. Then again, did he truly want to?

Hell no, but none of that changed his plans. He was leaving and he wasn’t about to put her in such a situation where he’d damaged her reputation. He was helping get some adventure and have fun before she was married off. That was it.

She’s asking for it. She is asking me to find her a man to teach her about pleasure. I would be doing her a favor.

Yeah, if he listened to his cock he’d be in a world of trouble. This wasn’t about him, but her. And he’d do well to remember that. He knew exactly which carriage she rode in and continually kept it in sight.

“Your protectiveness over her is unrivaled.”

Of course his friend would have picked up on that. Bryn grunted.

Falcon moved up beside him, riding with nearly equal ease. He jutted his chin in silent question, a gesture Bryn knew from practically growing up with this man.

“I’m fine. She’s fine.”

“Who are you going to point her to, or are you listening to your insane sister and setting her up with a madam to learn her own pleasure?”

He couldn’t stop the groan from slipping by his lips any more than he could halt the breeze. It wasn’t fair.

“Fuck you.”

Falcon laughed. “Riding getting uncomfortable?”

Bryn hated his best friend knew him so well. “Yeah, because I have such experience riding with an erection.” He gave him a pointed glare. “I’m not you.”

“Of course not. I’m far too handsome for you to pass as me. Plus, women and children love me, they don’t run hiding.” He touched his tricorn and Bryn rolled his eyes.

* * * *

Something settled in his chest when they rode up the drive. So many years had passed since his first trip up the mixture of crushed shells and rock.

“You all right there, Bryn?”

Smile strained, he gave his friend a slight nod. “Just thinking about my first time riding up to this house.”

Falcon shot him a sympathetic glance. “When you first came over from America.”

“Yes.” Casting his gaze to the carriage that held his parents, Bryn gave a soft smile. They’d endured so much to find their happily ever after. And while he didn’t think it was in the cards for him, a tiny part of his soul couldn’t help but retain hold onto that romanticism.

Bryn sat high in the saddle as they unloaded from the carriages before the sprawling home. Only once he spied the curvaceous body of Rosamunde being assisted out of the coach did he turn and touch his heels to the sleek sides of his horse to head to the stable.

Only once he was certain—or hoped to hell he was right—she would be upstairs in one of the guest rooms, did he make the trek to the house. Nodding in greeting at the staff, he took the stairs two at a time to his room.

Releasing a contented sigh once he was securely behind the heavy oak door, he removed his boots and padded to the large chair by the window and sank to it, grateful to be off the horse and just, well, home.

Within the hour, he’d changed after a bath and found his room full of childhood friends. Four of them were from the island and were his Uncle Phillip’s children. They talked and laughed until a footman knocked and informed them the evening meal was ready.

The joy continued as they moved down to the ground floor, footsteps thundering, joking and bantering. It made him smile and realize he’d needed this far more than he’d believed.

“Bryn!”

He was moving as his gaze landed on Falcon’s mother—not by birth, but by all that mattered to their family. Leona, much like his own mother, only got more elegant and stunning as the years passed.

“Aunt Leona.” He moved across the room and without hesitation enveloped her in his embrace. “I have missed you.” Yes, she’d been at the opera but, as was true with most of his family, they held in affection a lot if they were in public.

Her arms tight around him brought him the familiar scent he’d always associate with her. “Come to the coast then, and visit.”

He kissed her cheek, mindful as always of the watchful gaze of her husband, Falcon’s father, Trace. “On my way to America, I will make sure to stop by.”

She patted his cheek and stepped from his arms, leaving him to welcome his Uncle Trace. Again, they weren’t blood, but to him this entire room was full of family. His family.

As they hugged and greeted one another, they also claimed seats around the long table. Holding the chair for Isabella, whose father—again, not by blood—was his Uncle Phillip, he gave her hair a gentle tug even as a tingle danced up his spine, announcing without any words on who had just walked into the room.

Rosamunde.

He gulped as their gazes locked. God damn it! She wore a gown of pale purple muslin that hugged those endless curves he had fantasies about both awake and asleep.

Perhaps I know now why her family insists on dressing her in those shapeless sacks. She would devastate the male population showcasing her curves as she is doing.

Keely looped her arm in Rosamunde’s as she introduced her around. In his seat, Bryn watched her from below lowered lids. Noticing every damn nuance that slipped across her full features.

And he also watched every person she was introduced to, making sure no one said anything disrespectful to her. He shouldn’t have worried, this was his family and they were a loud and crazy bunch but they wouldn’t be impolite to a guest.

Isabella rested a hand on his forearm. “You’re growling,” she whispered as she leaned closer to him. “Are you okay?”

He looked at his younger cousin. How he had viewed her forever. She looked so much like her Aunt Fyre. Who was her now mother as they had been taken in by Phillip and Fyre after their parents had been murdered.

“I will be.”

Bryn tuned into the conversations flowing around the table, paying the most attention to the one across the table to his left where Rosamunde sat chatting easily with Keely and Delicia, Fyre’s biological daughter.

For once there was no strain in her expression and he took heart, loving how his family had welcomed her.

“You like her.”

He swallowed before shooting Isabella a glare. All she did was laugh, tucking a thick black curl behind her ear. Baring his teeth at her, he snapped them only to lift his gaze and find Rosamunde glancing across the table at him, her green eyes taking in how little space there was between him and Isabella.

Her slight grin lacked the warmth her smiles had earlier and he missed it. Fuck, he had it bad. Lifting his glass, he toasted her, loving the pink that scampered up her cheeks seconds prior to her glancing away and engaging back in her conversation.

While he approved of her being comfortable enough with those gathered, there was a part—a large part—of him that was jealous. That it wasn’t him getting her focus, her laughter, her gaze.

Dinner over, the group moved into the sitting room where drinks were poured and games were set up. This was far better than any house party he’d ever attended. Mostly because he loved all the people here and there was no need for any pretense he gave a fuck about them or their lives. Like he would have to if it were any other house party.

Meeting shamrock-green eyes across the room, he winked and grinned as Rosamunde rolled hers at him in return and turned to speak with Elonne. Bryn ignored the flash of jealousy that slammed him at her dismissal.

I have to get used to her speaking to others. She’s engaged to someone else, and I’m trying to set her up with another man.

Fuck!