Rosilee’s eyes widened as her maid and friend, Evangeline Green, joined them. “Evangeline?” Wait. “You and Leopold?
Evangeline nodded, her cheeks flushing.
Leopold grinned, a boyish expression that made him look far younger than he had moments ago. “She tried to sneak in and rescue me.”
Rosilee could scarcely believe what she was hearing! “Why would you do something so dangerous?”
“I wanted to help you,” Evangeline said softly.
“She was quite determined, too,” Leopold said. “Snuck into the house with a hairpin and a great deal of attitude. Unfortunately, she was caught right after she entered the chamber I was being kept in.”
Rosilee stared at him, dumbfounded, and a shiver raced down her spine when a hand sneakily settled on her lower back. “And what happened next?”
“Well,” Leopold murmured, smiling at Rosilee’s erstwhile maid, “she stayed. We were imprisoned together.”
Well, I’ll be!
“This is a rather interesting, yet delightful development,” Rosilee said with a smile. “I am happy for you both. I want to hear everything from start to finish.”
“So do we,” Leopold said, his gaze returning to Blake. “It seems Baston accidentally did something right, after all.”
“Do not even utter such words,” Rosilee exclaimed. That man would forever be a villain in her heart! But he had brought her to Blake. And now, they would all be a family while he rotted somewhere unknown.
Somewhere only Mrs. Dove-Lyon knew.
Suddenly six men strode from around the house—each one larger than the last, their faces marred with all manner of scars, cuts, and bruises. They walked in a formation, shoulders broad, eyes sweeping the area with a predatory intensity before landing on her, then flicking to Blake.
They all looked alike, yet not alike at all.
“Ah, yes,” Leopold said stiffly. “We have guests.”
Rosilee turned to Blake. “Are they . . .”
Blake’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the advancing men. “My brothers.”
Leopold shot him a sideways glance. “Well, now it all makes sense. Care to elaborate?”
Blake’s smile was grim. “Let’s just say... the late duke was a man of many indiscretions.”
It seemed there would be more additions to their family. And Rosilee, for one, certainly didn’t mind.
She stared at her future brothers-in-law and said the only thing that came to mind. “Welcome.”
Not welcome.
They looked like a mismatched pack of feral dogs. Not that he could really criticize them. He might not carry any outward scars, but that didn’t mean the ones hidden weren’t just as jagged.
Damnation.
Bloody hell.
Christ.
They also shared similar features.
Neither man nor God could deny the resemblance, as much as he wished he could. Blake bit down on his teeth, fingers flexing at his sides to keep from tugging at his cravat. He didn’t want to have anything in common with them. They reminded him of the one man he wanted to bloody bury so deep down that no influence, no thought, no nightmare could reach him.
But—and perhaps it was a “but” worth acknowledging—they were not monsters.
