Beautiful Things: Second Sons Book One
Beautiful Things: Chapter 14

Rosalie fought to contain her gasp. She didn’t know what she was expecting Mr. Burke to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“I shock you.”

“No,” she quickly replied. “Well…yes. Perhaps a little,” she added.

“Are you disgusted, Miss Harrow?”

“Not in the least,” she replied, meaning every word. “I am the last person to judge someone for the sins of their father. But I have questions…if you don’t mind me asking…”

She’d hardly been able to look away from him since the moment he entered the room. This was dangerous. Her feelings for this man felt too volatile. She’d never felt such an instant attraction to someone before. Why did it have to be this man—a man the duchess expressly wished her to avoid?

“Ask your questions, Miss Harrow. I have nothing to hide.”

She swallowed. “When you say…”

“I mean that my mother is quite literally a whore…or at least she was. She exchanged sex for payment, Miss Harrow. My father kept her as a mistress for a time, and that’s when she had me.”

Rosalie nodded. It all made sense—the odd behavior of the other guests, their subtly snide and dismissive comments. Mr. Burke was illegitimate. It wasn’t the worst kind of scandal, not for a man anyway. If Mr. Burke were a daughter, it would be ruinous. But if he were born into the Corbin family, he’d weather it easily. No, it was the combination of being both illegitimate and of lower rank that meant he must exist in a state of limbo…neither gentleman nor common, claimed nor unclaimed.

“But you were raised here at Alcott…”

“No, when I was born my mother handed me over to my father and his wife. She thought my best chance at respectability would be if she disappeared from my life. She prayed for the mercy of my father’s wife to care for me and raise me as her own.”

“And did she?”

His scowl deepened and she watched a flicker of violence spark in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. Your business is your own.” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

He took another sip of his port. “My father’s wife didn’t even care for her own son, let alone her husband’s bastard. She hated me and wanted me neither seen nor heard. That’s why I spent most of my time with James. Don’t pity me, Miss Harrow,” he added. “There are few who can boast living as comfortably as I do.”

“I don’t pity you, sir,” she replied honestly. “I can only imagine you have committed sins in your life that may require atonement, but being born is not one of them. We none of us can choose who brings us into this world.”

For the briefest of moments, the armor he so carefully wore seemed to slip. She caught a glimpse of the Mr. Burke behind the mask—kind and gentle, longing to belong. He soaked in her praise and gave her a weak smile. “Thank you, Miss Harrow. Am I right in guessing that perhaps you speak from experience?”

Before she could reply, the door snapped open. Not the door that adjoined the drawing room, but the one that led to the hall. Rosalie nearly jumped out of her skin as Lieutenant Renley popped his head into the room. He took in the scene of them sitting alone together and frowned.

“The duchess sent me to track you down,” he said at Mr. Burke. “Get in there and play a round before she sets loose the hounds.” Without another word, he shut the door.

Rosalie took a shaky breath. Of all the people to catch her and Mr. Burke together, it was perhaps best it was the lieutenant. But still, she had to ask. “Will he…he won’t…”

“What, say anything?” Mr. Burke laughed. “Not a chance. But I don’t think we should push our luck,” he added, draining his glass and setting it aside. He stood, glancing towards the door.

She stood too. She didn’t trust herself to stay close to him. “I’m too tired for cards. I think I’ll retire now,” she murmured. “Goodnight, Mr. Burke.”

“Goodnight, Miss Harrow.”

She slipped past him and left without looking back.

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