Chapter Twenty-Two

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“Wake up!”

Rosamunde sat up, squinting at the weak morning light, as her bedroom door burst open to admit her father and her brother on his heels.

Swallowing hard to give herself some time to keep the scream from escaping, she fisted the layers of bedding, willing her heart to slow. She lifted her chin and did her best to look intimidating.

Hard to do for sure when she felt like her eyes were gritty and raw from crying herself to sleep. Throat raw from the night as well. She was destroyed.

“Why are you both in here?” She didn’t bother trying to cover herself, as she wore layers to keep warm.

“Get dressed.”

She pinched her nose and took a deep breath. “Right here and now?”

“Don’t be impertinent. We have to go. The Duke of Stokley passed away and we need to show our respect to his family.”

Bryn !

She began to swing her legs over then paused. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You were friends with the duke’s granddaughter. We are going.”

Damn, she’d not even thought about Keely, only Bryn.

Swinging her gaze to her brother, she took in the bruising on his face, the cut above his eyes and his split lips. She had no sympathy for him, and she reverted her gaze back to the man who played a part in her being alive.

“Would you like me to get ready with you here or are you leaving the room so I can dress alone?”

They glared but stomped out. She exhaled slowly and swung her legs over. Still a bit sore from the last night with boxing and Bryn, she moved gingerly. After a brief and cold washing, she stood in front of her meager closet, staring at the clothing contained within.

Three dresses from Lady Heartstone hung off to the left and she touched them reverently. However, today wasn’t the place for brightly colored dresses. She turned to the other side of the closet, a space that used to overflow with dresses, to find one of plain black.

Sadness filled her as she donned the dress, smoothing her hands down the soft material once it sat draped over her curves. Ones Bryn had said he loved.

The first tear snuck free and she shook her head, stealing a look toward the dingy ceiling. Flicking it away with the back of her hand, she took care of her footwear and pulled out her one nice coat. It wouldn’t do to show anything less than being put together in front of the rest of the ton . And this event of the duke’s death would bring out everyone who wanted to be seen.

Disgusting. The need to cock and preen before other members of society while pretending to give a damn about the family who had just lost one of their own. She hated every single second of it.

Yet I’ll go merely for the chance to see him once more.

Telling him goodbye had gutted her, and she wished she had been strong enough to withstand the rejection he’d have doubtless given had she asked him to save her. Obviously, she hadn’t had the strength to ask so she left and now she had to face this man and his family with her family. And that fact embarrassed her.

It didn’t help she was to meet the lech she was being married off to the following day. Part of her wondered how he would react to her no longer being a virgin. A smile turned up her lips as she recalled her time with Bryn in the gaming hell. His tender yet over-the-top possessive touch. The way he’d had her calling out his name. How he’d murmured her name and her nickname in her neck as he’d reached his own completion. Then last night in his house.

A full-body shiver overtook her and she walked to the door. Memories. That’s what she would have for the rest of her life, and nothing more. But they would have to suffice.

Chin lifted, she made her way carefully down to the first floor and found the rest of the people whom she shared a name with getting ready. Bradford glanced at her before giving a nod, possibly of approval?

She didn’t know nor did she care. No words were spoken as they all climbed in the family carriage, the fit tight and her sisters making disparaging remarks about her and her weight. She tuned them out and thought about Bryn.

Again.

The ride took a while, one, because of all the other carriages heading in that direction and two, because the manor was in a wealthy section of town. Made her wonder what his country seat was like. Probably huge with immense space to wander and just be surrounded by nature.

The criticisms stopped as they rolled to a halt and the door opened. While her family was horrible, they knew how to behave in times like this. She gave a small nod of thanks to the man who helped her down, dressed in the duke’s colors and yet more black. Then again, she’d not met the Duke of Stokley other than the one time at the opera.

She trailed behind the rest of her family as they walked into the grand entrance of the manor and gave over their coats to the waiting servants. So many valets and ladies’ maids rushed around. Even though the doors were open, the interior remained warm, the fires at full blaze.

A solemn man met them and bowed low before saying something to the head of her household.

For now. Soon it will be another man as the head of mine.

Like the dutiful daughter she knew to act like, she trailed them down an immaculate hallway, their boots echoing on the marble floor. Two men dressed in the same manner as the others she’d seen so far opened the large double doors to allow them entrance into a massive ballroom.

Her parents headed directly for the new duke and his wife while she hung back, just for a moment, to skim the room and get her bearings. He was here, she knew it. The man created something inside her, alerting her to his presence. Even if she couldn’t see him at the moment.

Some people she knew, some had bullied her, none of them mattered. She continued looking around. A dip of her head in silent acknowledgment when she saw Remington and Piers striding across the floor, pulling more than one appreciative set of female stares. There was no arrogant smirk on either face this time. They were nothing but serious.

Falcon was the one she recognized next, and he stood with his family. He broke away from them and crossed the large floor to her side. Reaching for her hand, he bent over it when she gave it to him.

“Always lovely to see you, my dear.”

“And you, Mr. Morgan.” A slight frown. “Although I wish it could have been happier circumstances.”

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm before escorting her to where Bryn’s parents stood.

“Death is a part of life. He lived a long time.”

She cut her gaze to him. This was a man who had seen a lot for one so young. She nodded because, really, what could she say to that?

Falcon left her with another small bow and she found herself facing the new Duke and Duchess of Stokley. Dropping into a perfect curtsey, she closed her eyes for a second, needing just one more moment to gather herself.

“Your Graces, my sincerest condolences.”

Both returned the proper greeting then her jaw nearly dropped when Lady Stokely reached out and pulled her in close for a hug.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Fletcher. It’s so good to see you.” The kind words slammed home to her. This woman, suffering a familial loss, was offering her comfort, not the other way around.

“Please let me know if there is anything I can do.”

Lady Stokley drew back and cupped the side of her face. “You are a gem, my dear. Thank you.”

The moment she let her go, Rosamunde found herself in the arms of Bryn’s father. He held her gently despite the strength she felt in him.

“Thank you.”

When he set her back and gave her another nod, she tried to slow the thundering of her heart. Turning, she noticed her family watching her with a mix of anger and jealousy in their expressions, which was wiped away quickly as more began to look.

Spying Keely, she hurried to her friend’s side and hugged her without hesitation. Keely trembled in her hold but the tremble didn’t last long.

“I’m sorry.” It was such a blasé thing to say to someone who had just lost a loved one. Rosamunde didn’t know how to make it better. She’d had to turn inward when her grandmother passed.

“Walk with me?”

She nodded immediately. Whatever any of them needed her to do, she would without hesitation, as this family had made her feel more like she belonged than the one she’d been born into.

“It’s a wake and people are still trying to matchmake.” Keely’s words held more than a hint of disgust.

The words didn’t make sense.

Not then. However, they soon did.

Three steps into their walk, she found him. Bryn.

And the gaggle of women around him. Stabbing her own pain with a sword, she met his stare evenly and gave him a sad smile. He nodded in return, something unidentifiable in his gaze as he watched her with his sister.

Bryn wanted nothing more than to stride over the ballroom floor and draw Rosamunde into his embrace. To allow her touch and scent to calm the angry beast ripping him apart from the inside. To lean on her for support like his father did his mother.

He hadn’t been sure she would come. Not after she’d told him goodbye, leaving him alone to face the worst night of his life.

The tittering young ladies surrounding him held zero appeal for him and he couldn’t take it a second longer when Remington showed up to give him an out from the scene he hadn’t wanted to be in any longer. He left his friend and returned to his father’s side.

Right now he had a role to play. A duty to perform as the eldest of his father’s children. His family would be in full mourning for six weeks then for another six after that they would be in half-mourning. By the time he had finished the mourning period and could even consider doing anything with or for Rosamunde, she would be married to the bastard who didn’t deserve her.

Neither do you , his brain commented.

Probably true, but he didn’t give a damn. That woman was his. No other person in the world would be given the pleasure of hearing her moans, seeing her flush with passion—and they sure as fuck wouldn’t get the chance to be inside her hot, tight pussy.

Bryn stood beside his parents, greeting the guests and accepting their condolences, yet all the while his gaze trailed the chestnut-haired beauty who tempted him beyond anything.

His father nudged him with his shoulder until they were slightly away from everyone else and their conversation couldn’t be overheard. “If you’re not planning on making a declaration now, son, you need to stop staring at her like she’s yours.”

He closed his eyes and shrugged. “She is mine.”

All his father did was grunt.

“Apologies, Papa. I know this is neither the time nor place.”

They were relatively alone at the moment, others gathered in small groups as gossip filled the room. Food would be served soon in the drawing room, and musicians played some lightly somber music.

He noticed that Rosamunde had stepped up and began ushering some of the older women to the drawing room. Pride filled him. This woman had no idea of her impressiveness. How she fell into place like a perfect piece.

In his life. In this life.

She didn’t need to be away from him. Hell, simply being in the same room with her calmed him.

“You know societal rules didn’t agree with my marrying your mother. Despite her being a princess.”

“I’ve heard the story, Papa.”

A sad chuckle escaped. “I know, but that’s not what I was going to say.”

Bryn glanced from where Rosamunde escorted Lady Burton toward Lord Chatterly and walked them both to the door. “What were you going to say?”

“I didn’t give a damn about the rules then. I married her because I loved her and I wanted her. Many need to fit into the rules and follow them to have a happy life. That’s not been this family. Ever. If it were, Falcon wouldn’t be your best friend. Phillip wouldn’t be part of our life anymore and none of us would have the wives and families we do.”

His father took a deep breath and grasped his arm. “You’re now the Marquess of Heartstone, son. You do what you want because that’s all the reason we ever needed. In fact, there’s not a single reason better than that.”

With that, his father walked away, slipped up behind his wife and settled his hands on her waist. His mother didn’t cease her conversation but she did lean into the man behind her and pat his arm.

Yes. That’s what he wanted. More so now than ever.

It wasn’t until people had settled into the food, sitting in the scattered chairs in the drawing room, that he found a moment to step away. He’d noticed how his sister had introduced Rosamunde to plenty of eligible men who, if they had still been on the original plan, he may have as well, but now he didn’t want her around any of them. The only reason he remained calm was that for all intents and purposes Rosamunde was an engaged woman, so this was merely a formality of introducing her to other members of society she’d not met yet.

He stepped outside and rested his ungloved hands on the snowy balustrade. With deep breaths, he centered himself once more. A slight shift in the wind told him who was out there with him. Even the winter wind couldn’t cover the scent of wild mint and violets.

“Back to stab me again, lioness?”

She moved up beside him, close but definitely not close enough. With her, unless they were skin to skin, it wouldn’t ever be enough. He angled his head to look at her. No coat, and the wind blew her dress tightly against those mouth-watering curves.

A hitch in her breathing. “I came to offer up my condolences. I’ve spoken to everyone else in your family.”

He clenched the firmness of the banister, remembering sitting here as a boy in warm weather.

“Thanks. You should probably head inside now. I’m not fit company.”

Her mouth opened but she shut it with a nod and vanished as quietly as she’d arrived. And took another piece of his heart when she did.

He closed his eyes and opened them when a warm wool coat settled over his shoulders. Glancing down, not much, he found his brother standing there.

“How are you holding up, Henry?”

“I miss him. I knew it was going to happen as he was older, and to expect it, but I miss him.”

Shrugging into his coat, he gripped his brother’s shoulder and nodded. “I know. Me too.”

Keely walked out and without a word stepped between the two of them, wrapping an arm around them each. Many families didn’t hug, didn’t show affection. Not theirs. They had been raised with love and affection and it didn’t bother them to show it. Especially not with one another.

They separated not too long after and his siblings vanished back inside to where the warmth waited for them. Bryn lifted his head to the cold and took a deep breath.

“You may as well come out here. I know you’re there.”

Falcon rested a shoulder against the pillar and crossed his ankles as he stood there.

“Mama send you to get me?”

His best friend in the world shrugged and Bryn nodded. She had. He stepped away and walked inside with his friend pacing him, still silent. Taking off his coat, he handed it to a passing servant and paused before heading back to the drawing room.

“She’s not here.”

“What are you talking about?” The room did feel different. Emptier.

“Your lady. She’s headed out. They left.”

He frowned. “Already?” He’d thought he would have more time to see her today.

“Her fiancé is here and they went to meet him.”

Anger smashed him like waves against the hull of a ship during a storm.

“I see.” The words were forced.

Falcon grunted, and Bryn glared at his friend as the words he’d uttered sank in to his mind.

Rosamunde was gone.