Beautiful Things: Chapter 3

Of all the ways Burke thought a trip to town might end, riding double through the dark with a gorgeous woman pressed against his chest was nowhere in his imagination. Miss Harrow sat astride in front of him, her muddy skirts riding up to show off her ruined stockings.

The sound of crickets buzzed in the air as his horse trotted down the lane. True to his word, Burke gave Miss Harrow full command of the riding crop. Christ, he nearly got a cockstand when she made that demand, her dark eyes blazing with a fire set to consume him. He cooled when he realized her full meaning. Whatever happened today beyond that scum in the alley, she was feeling vulnerable. He fought his every instinct to hunt that drunk down and pummel him bloody.

Well…

.

This lady could clearly take care of herself. Even as part of him loved to think of a beautiful, confident woman fighting her own battles, it gave him serious pause. Who was she that she knew how to throw a punch? Why was that a skill she had to learn? And why the hell was she traveling alone with no money on direct invitation from the duchess?

Whoever she was, she didn’t know …which meant she couldn’t be a very close acquaintance of Harriet Wakefield Corbin, Dowager Duchess of Norland. Anyone close to the Corbin family knew everything about Burke—the details he was proud of and the details he wished they’d forget. And Burke had never heard of Rosalie Harrow. This meant she was either lying, which they would soon uncover…or the duchess really have a secret interest in the girl, which made her a mystery he was desperate to solve.

He cleared his throat, reining the horse to a walk. It felt strange to have the cage of his arms around her so intimately. “So…where are you from Miss Harrow?”

“Town,” she replied. “My aunt keeps a place in Cheapside.”

He liked the sound of her voice. It wasn’t high and nasally, or falsely sweet. It was just…

. She had the accent of a refined lady, but her clothes were a bit worn, and he couldn’t forget that left hook.

“And where is your family from?”

She shifted, catching his gaze with one eye. “Are you trying to place me, Mr. Burke? Running through your list of gentry families to see where and how you might measure a Harrow against yourself?”

He chuckled, the sound dying in his throat as he felt her shift again, her rounded arse rubbing against his cock. Christ, this was a mistake. “Once you get to know me better, you’ll find I am the last person to measure someone’s worth by their family name,” he replied, jaw tight.

She was quiet for a moment. “My family is from Richmond…or at least my mother’s family. I know nothing of the Harrows beyond that I had an uncle who emigrated to India nearly thirty years ago. My father never heard from him again.”

She was from Richmond? This was a useful clue. Burke was well-versed in Corbin family affairs. Before the duchess married the fifth duke, she was a gentleman’s daughter from Richmond.

“So…you know the Wakefields then?”

“Not personally, sir,” she replied. “I’m told my mother and the dowager were childhood friends. It is on her behalf that the dowager sent for me.”

“The duchess,” he corrected.

“Hmm?”

“She may be announced formally as the Dowager Duchess of Norland,” he explained, “But she prefers the title of duchess, especially since her son remains unmarried. And she thinks being called ‘dowager’ makes her sound old. I wouldn’t want you starting off on the wrong foot,” he added, his breath fanning over her ear. “And who are your mother’s people?”

“My mother was—

—” She fell silent as they made the last turn towards home.

The trees gave way to Burke’s favorite view of the house. He reined his horse to a halt, its hooves crunching on the pea gravel. Alcott Hall was a three-story structure of grey stone perched on a low hill. The lower floors were lit from within, their glow shining out over a vast expanse of gardens, which gave way to a lake glistening in the moonlight.

“Well? What do you think of the house?”

“It’s incomparable,” she whispered. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a place so perfectly situated.”

“Wait til you see her in the daylight,” he replied, prodding the horse back into a trot.

“Do you live here?”

He laughed. “Are we done asking questions about you then?”

“My life is an open book,” she replied. “I have no secrets, sir.”

He very much doubted that, but he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to know her better. Her beauty was arresting, even being covered in mud. If anything, the wildness of her countenance endeared her to him even more. Give him one woman like this over a drawing room full of high society twits who only ever talked about dresses and dancing.

He groaned, for that was exactly what awaited him at the house. Christ, but this was going to be a long month. He’d almost considered going away, for there was no world in which three weeks spent rubbing shoulders with a marchioness would be to his benefit.

She went stiff in his arms. “Mr. Burke? Are you unwell?”

Damn, she heard him groan. “Quite well, just ready to be out of the saddle.”

“Me too,” she admitted. “I’m not used to riding astride.” She wiggled a bit and he wanted to die.

They rode in silence, following the sweeping lane around the back of the house to the stable yard. Johnny, the tired groom, stumbled out at Burke’s call, pulling a wool cap down over his ears. His eyes went wide as he took in Miss Harrow sitting astride in front of Burke.

Burke swung his leg back and dropped down to the cobblestones. Then he reached up with both hands, holding her at the waist, as she slid down. He caught her, pulling her close against him. She felt so small in his arms. He felt a sudden urge to protect her, to pick her up and carry her inside. He wanted to wash away the mud and wrap her in silk.

“Mr. Burke,” she whispered, suddenly stiff.

Her eyes were open wide, her lips parted as she tried to control her breathing. He tensed with realization: she felt it too, whatever this was between them. Christ, she was beautiful. That fair skin and those dark eyes. He wanted to brush his fingers over her mouth. He wanted—

“Please let me go.”

He blinked twice, the soft plea of her words making him drop his hands away as if she’d burned him. She might want him, but she didn’t trust him. Hell, she didn’t even him. And he didn’t know her. What was happening to him?

He cleared his throat and took a step back. “Let’s get you inside.”

He untied her travel case from the back of his saddle and gave Johnny a nod. The lad led the mount away. Taking a deep breath, Burke turned and offered his arm. Miss Harrow hesitated before she looped her arm in his and let herself be led towards the great house.

As they walked in silence, he could almost feel her building strong walls with brick and mortar, determined to keep him out. He smiled. If that feisty woman in the alley was the prize waiting within, there was quite possibly nothing he’d like better than planning a prolonged siege.

“Where will you take me?” she murmured.

“To see the man in charge.”