Beautiful Things: Chapter 5

As soon as James left with the young lady, Burke breathed a deep sigh and sank into one of the leather smoking chairs. Tom stepped forward and extended his glass of brandy. “Here, I think you need this more than me.”

Burke took the glass and drained it, setting it down with a clatter.

Tom sank into the opposite chair, loosening his cravat with a sharp tug.

“When did you arrive?” Burke asked.

“Just this afternoon,” he replied. “I didn’t know I’d be interrupting a house party. I feel I should take my leave, but James said I could stay…”

“Yes, well you can’t possibly expect a restful time at your brother’s house. How many hellions does he have now, four?”

“Six,” Tom replied.

“Hell on earth,” Burke said with a groan, stretching out his long legs. “I’m sure I speak for His Graceless when I say you can stay here as long as you like.”

Both men were quiet for a moment as Tom watched Burke with a growing grin. “So…are we going to talk about it?”

Burke glanced up. “Talk about what?”

“The ,” Tom said with a laugh. “What the hell happened with that girl?”

“She already told you,” Burke said evasively. “A drunk was pawing at her in the pub and I stepped in. Then she was outside, and he came at her again. She socked him right in the nose, dropped him like a stone before I could lift a finger.”

Tom leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I meant between and her.”

“Nothing happened,” he said quickly.

Tom grinned. “Right…so the sexual tension you could cut with a knife was…”

Burke smirked, not looking up.

“Oh, you are in much trouble,” Tom laughed, slapping his knee as he flopped back in the chair. He knew his friend well. Granted, they hadn’t seen each other in nigh on two years, but Burke’s taste in women could hardly have shifted so greatly in their time apart. “James is going to have kittens over it, you know.”

“James can mind his own bloody business,” Burke said with a scowl. “Nothing happened.”

“Right…and now that she’s here, I imagine you’re hatching no plans…making no designs on her,” he teased.

Burke dragged a hand through his hair. “She’s a guest of the duchess, Tom.”

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

“I’m a work in progress,” Burke muttered.

“She’s gorgeous…feisty too.”

“Don’t,” he groaned.

Tom laughed, loving how easy it was to goad him.

Burke got to his feet, snatching the empty glass off the table. He went over to the corner and filled it, bringing a fresh one over for Tom. Before Tom could take a sip, the door snapped open, and James swept in like an angry storm front. Burke handed out his glass. James snatched it, taking a deep sip. Burke went and made himself a fresh one, while James sank into one of the other empty chairs.

“Well? Is Miss Harrow settled?” asked Tom.

James nodded, leaning back with a tired sigh. “I don’t know what the hell my mother was thinking bringing her here. The other ladies are going to eat her alive.”

Burke returned to his chair. “You can’t possibly think she means to throw her at George, do you?”

Tom sensed the hint of anxiety in his tone, the simmering note of possession.

James glowered, setting his glass down with a clink. “Burke, I don’t know what happened—”

“Don’t start,” Burke replied. “I can see a pretty girl and not touch her. Your gentility lessons have not been in vain.”

Tom decided it was safest to change the subject. “So…what’s the deal with this house party?”

Both men groaned.

“My mother is determined to see George settled,” James explained. “She’s invited a horde of high society ladies and their chaperones to fill the house for the next month. I guess she imagines if George can’t escape them, he’ll eventually break down and propose to one.”

“That seems…foolproof?” Tom offered with a shrug.

“It’s idiotic,” James snapped.

“It’s a goddamn nightmare,” echoed Burke. “We’ve already got a viscountess and her mousey daughter, the Swindon sisters, even Sir Andrew and Lady Oswald are here chasing Blanche around with a butterfly net.”

Tom couldn’t help but laugh. Blanche Oswald grew up with them. She was one of the silliest women breathing. “That’s the duchess’ idea of a good match for George?”

“I think it’s less about her manners, and more about the fact that Sir Andrew now owns half of Carrington. We’re told her dowry is pushing thirty thousand,” James said.

“Surely you don’t need to be fortune hunting,” Tom said with a raised brow. “Is the estate in crisis?”

“Not currently,” Burke replied. “All thanks to James, here.”

“But capital is capital,” James added. “No lord can afford to settle for a penniless bride. George is too eccentric to get brains, beauty, and a dowry. At this point, mother is putting all her chips on a dowry. She means to have him announcing his engagement by the Michaelmas ball.”

Tom was well familiar with the Corbin’s annual ball. They’d been hosting a Michaelmas soiree every year for nigh on four generations. Navy life meant Tom had missed quite a few, but it was always a smashing good time. The Corbin punch was legendary.

“How long are you on leave this time?” Burke asked.

James snorted into his drink and Tom shot him an annoyed look. “I have a somewhat open order,” he told Burke. “It may last until Christmas…”

Burke raised a dark brow in question and Tom groaned.

“He’s in the same situation as my dear brother,” James explained.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck with a weathered hand, wishing he could sink through the floor. God, it was so infuriating. But naval politics meant that sometimes an officer had to make sacrifices in the name of his career. In Tom’s case that meant—

“Wait,” Burke said on a gasp. “You never…oh, Tom, are you only home to bag a wife?” At Tom’s look of solemn resignation, Burke let out a laugh. “What a romantic you are. Like Poseidon in search of Amphitrite, you come in from the sea.”

“I’m First Lieutenant now,” Tom argued. “A captaincy is next, so long as I can rank up. And my captain believes the surest way I rank within the year is to take a wife who can help me pay for it.”

Burke leaned forward. “So, young Poseidon, the plot thickens. The duchess plans to parade eligible ladies in front of George for the next month, and you figured you’ll what? Pick one off the end with a title and a reticule full of diamonds and hope George doesn’t notice? Do you really think you can fall in love in a fortnight?”

Tom scowled. “It’s not like that. You both know I have no interest in marriage. Not after…” He fell silent and, for once, Burke tactfully made no comment. “This isn’t about love. I’m through with all that. This is a career move, plain and simple.”

Burke set his glass aside. “Well, Lieutenant, you have your mission, and now we have ours. The duchess has kindly arranged for a bouquet of eligible ladies to stay in the house for the next three weeks. That’s plenty of time for us to find you a suitable wife with a thick pair of lips to kiss and deep pockets to caress.”

“You’re both going to stay out of this,” Tom growled.

“Nonsense,” said James. “Between the three of us, we’ll find you a lady so perfect you’ll forget all about…” He cleared his throat and drained his glass. “Just leave it to us. We’ll have you walking down the aisle by Christmas.”

The prospect made Tom positively miserable.

Burke raised his glass in mocking salute. “Glad to have you home, Tom.”