All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue (The Debutante Files Book 2) (7 page)

“The man has deep pockets. Deep enough to gain him entry to any ballroom.”

“So that makes him unsuitable? He’s rich?” She flicked him a glance of disdain before looking back out at the dance floor as if vastly interested in the view. If he was rich, then all the better. He might be able to help save her family from its impending ruin. So what if he was as big as an ox? She would not let that intimidate her.

Fortunately, at that moment she recognized a familiar face. Young Buckston was heading her way, the gangly youth’s Adam’s apple bobbing almost in rhythm with the music. He was one of the rare few to always beg a dance of her over the years. Even without encouragement, she knew she could rely on him. She smiled, confidant she was about to be rescued from Max’s company.

“I’m certain a conversation with your brother will save you from any future association with Mackenzie,” he said, the threat unmistakable. “He would not approve after I tell him what I know of the man.”

She whipped her gaze back to him and pasted a smile on her face. “Do not meddle in my affairs, Camden.”

“If I see you engaging in reckless behavior, it’s my duty to intervene.”

She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. He would not thwart her. Not when she had finally come up with a plan for her future.

Buckston was closing in, ready to claim his dance. She breathed her relief and shifted position to greet him, feeling quite smug as she turned her back on Camden. The vexing man could be left staring after her in the middle of a dance floor for all she cared. She refused to allow him to stick his nose into her life. She already had a brother and cousin to look out for her. She didn’t need him, too.

Buckston gestured to the dance floor in invitation, that ridiculously large Adam’s apple of his bobbing as he opened his mouth to request his turn with her.

She inclined her head with a smile and extended her hand, ready to place it in his waiting palm, reminding herself to be amenable. Buckston was no longer a kindly dance partner, he was a prospect she must consider.

Suddenly, she was whirled around and pulled into Max’s arms. He swept her past a scowling Buckston and whisked her out onto the dance floor.

Aghast, she stared up at his smug face in astonishment. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Waltzing with you.”

“You don’t dance. With anyone. Ever.”

He frowned momentarily, as though realizing the truth of this reminder. Then he shrugged. “Clearly, I do.”

Furious heat crept over her face, and she tried to pull away.

He tightened his grip on her hand and pressed her closer to his chest. “Stop pulling away from me. People are staring.”

“Because of you,” she hissed. “
You
are dancing.” She cast a look about the room, her gaze stopping on Rosalie and Violet. They both wore curious expressions as they watched her and Max. Even they knew that Max did not dance.

“You’re Will’s sister. He’s my best friend. No one will think anything of it as long as you stop wiggling to get away. And rid yourself of that sucking-lemon expression while you’re at it.”

“Oh!” She forced herself to relax in his arms. Smiling was a harder feat to accomplish.

He pulled her even closer. “Much better,” he praised.

Her breasts brushed his chest. Her face flamed hot as she remembered the night in the corridor, an encounter that she had been trying so very hard to forget. “You’re a cad. I promised this dance to Buckston.”

“Buckston’s a peacock.”

“He’s a gentleman.”

“Don’t waste your time on him,” he advised.

The man drove her mad. “Mackenzie is unseemly. Buckston a peacock. Is there anyone on this earth good enough for me?”

He didn’t reply, and she risked a look up at him to find him staring down at her. His stormy eyes gazed at her in an unfathomable way that made her chest tighten to the point of discomfort.

She looked away, glad that he did not answer that question . . . but also wondering why he did not.

Chapter 7

H
er eyes gleamed like topaz. Max cursed the fanciful thought as her question echoed through his head.
Is there anyone on this earth good enough for me?

His internal response was immediate:
No.

And then he wondered what he was thinking. He should pity the man that took her to wife.

He told himself it was because he had grown up with this girl. He had known her since she was a child. Since they were both children. No matter what had happened between them, no matter how deep the rift, no one would ever be good enough for Aurelia. He was certain that her brother and cousin would agree with him. Why did it feel so very troubling then for him to have a similar reaction?

Her question hovered between them. Answering it truthfully was out of the question, so he simply danced with her. Neither spoke for some moments. He couldn’t help thinking they fit well in each other’s arms. She was graceful, trusting in his ability to lead. He glanced down at her the precise moment she risked another glance up at him. The warm gold of her gown brought out the fire in her eyes, and he was hard pressed not to lose himself in that gaze.

“Very well,” she said with a relenting sigh, breaking their silence. “Why is Mr. Mackenzie so very unsuitable?”

“I’ve heard many unsavory a tale of the man. He is far beneath you.”

She turned wide eyes on him, clucking her tongue. The act brought his attention to her mouth. Had she applied some manner of gloss there? They seemed plumper, a shade deeper . . . like she had been sipping from a glass of claret.

“You’re not the type to give credit to rumors, Camden.”

With difficulty, he brought his gaze back to her eyes. “It’s a fact. He owns a string of gaming hells from here to Edinburgh.”

“That hardly makes him disreputable. Don’t tell me you’re one of those stodgy noblemen who actually looks down his nose at anyone who has to work for a living.”

He frowned. “It’s not that.” He himself worked, in a manner, spending a goodly amount of his time managing investments and researching new prospects. Gone were the days where any man could rest on his laurels and expect everything in life to be handed to him. He’d seen what such thinking had done to Will’s father. It had stripped him of nearly everything and left Will scrambling for ways to support his family. No, he respected any man who worked. Only Mackenzie was dangerous. He wasn’t certain everything he did could qualify as law-abiding.

“He’s trying to buy a bride and everyone knows it,” he said, confident that would put the nail in Mackenzie’s coffin as far as Aurelia was concerned. One thing he knew for certain was that she was a prideful creature. Her principles wouldn’t allow her to condone a man so mercenary in his pursuit of a bride.

To his shock, she shrugged. “How is that different from any other gentleman in the market for a bride? At least he’s not hunting for heiresses.”

He stared hard at her for a moment. “You like him,” he accused.

She shrugged. “I don’t know him. Yet.”

“Yet?”

She looked at him in exasperation. “He’s one of the few gentlemen not dissuaded by my lack of dowry. He’s handsome, and as you pointed out to me recently, I don’t exactly have a legion of eligible men beating a path to my door. Why wouldn’t I consider him?”

He bit back a curse, feeling like an utter ass. He had said something to that effect to her. “I thought you had no wish to marry,” he reminded her.

“Have I ever said that to you or was that simply the assumption?” She angled her head, considering. “Hm. Whatever the case, I have had a change of heart. I will be engaged before the Season is out.”

Stunned, he stared down at her. The dance ended and he escorted her to the edge of the ballroom floor. He looked down at her enticing display of cleavage. “Is this why you’re dressed as . . . as—”

“As what?” she demanded, a sharp edge to her voice. “A woman?” An angry flush stained her face. “I simply took charge of my wardrobe from Mama.”

About bloody time
. And then he retracted that thought. Perhaps if she were still wearing one of her pastel, frilly concoctions she would never have caught the notice of a man like Mackenzie.

“And what brought about this sudden urgency to wed?” he asked numbly.

“Mama is leaving at the end of the Season. She’s going to live with my Aunt Daphne in Scotland. Permanently.”

“Permanently?” His mind raced, concluding that Aurelia would likely be compelled to go with her. That is what unwed daughters did. They remained with their mothers. Only in this case, he had not imagined Lady Peregrine ever leaving the comforts of Town.

“Well, there will be the occasional visits, I’m sure.” Her voice thinned into something small. Even she did not sound too convinced. “Well. Not too often. Thurso is a great distance.”

The very ends of the earth.
“It’s the most northerly town in the mainland, is it not? And you intend to live there?” He stared at her, troubled at the idea of her isolated in faraway Scotland. “The weather can be quite inclement that far north.” Was he actually using the climate as a reason for her not to go?

“
If
I should go, I can withstand a bit of cold. However, it’s a few months until the Season ends. A very great deal could change before then.”

He studied the resolute set of her jaw, the firm press of her lips, as she stared out at the ballroom, gradually coming to understand her sudden interest in gaining suitors. He followed her gaze, scowling when he found it resting on Mackenzie.

“He’s not for you,” he heard himself saying in a hard voice.

She snapped her gaze back to him, color spotting her apple cheeks. Her chest lifted on a deep breath. “Stay out of my affairs, Camden.” A thread of emotion shook in her voice, and that was entirely different from her usual blithe repartee.

It sank in for him then. She was utterly serious about this suitor business. She was on a mission to find a husband. Aurelia not only wanted to marry, she was hell-bent on it.

Chapter 8

T
he ladies’ retiring room offered much needed solace following her dance with Max. Aurelia chose a couch angled in the corner, where she could sit with her back to the row of dressing tables. At the moment a pair of middle-aged ladies powdered their noses and discussed their fractious daughter-in-laws. Thankfully, she was of no interest to them. She pressed a hand to her heated cheeks.

What on earth was wrong with Max, daring to insert himself into the matter of whom she chose as a suitor? She shook her head and dropped her hands from her face. He was a distraction she didn’t need. The gall of him interrupting her dance with Buckston. Indignation crawled over her skin like a swarm of angry ants.

Sighing, she smoothed a hand down her bodice and froze when she heard the crinkle of paper. Goodness! She’d almost forgotten the drawing of Lord Eddington that she had rolled up and slid inside her corset. Blast Max for throwing her off-task. Not only from her quest to find a husband but also from keeping her from her work tonight. He was muddying her head.

She slipped a tip of finger inside her bodice, feeling the sharp edge of the parchment she had rolled into a tight scroll.

She had intended to leave it at the ball this evening when the opportunity presented itself. She glanced over her shoulder at the women sitting at the dressing tables. One of them caught her eye in the mirror and Aurelia forced a bright smile, slipping her hand from the edge of her bodice. Obviously now was not that opportunity.

“Aurelia?”

She looked up as Rosalie entered the room. Her sister-in-law sank down on the couch beside her and covered her hand with her own. “Are you well? You left the dance floor rather suddenly.”

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

“You were dancing with Camden.” Rosalie searched her face, apparently waiting for her to contribute something on that topic.

Aurelia winced. “Yes, well, he asked me—” She stopped with a deep, bracing breath. He hadn’t precisely asked her. He simply snatched her up and hauled her onto the dance floor—and that was only so that she couldn’t dance with Buckston. She winced at that reminder. The man lived to thwart her. There could be no other reason for his behavior.

“You parted his company rather hurriedly. Did he say something to offend you?” Rosalie’s reddish brows furrowed tightly. “Did you two have another quarrel?”

She shook her head, although she supposed they had quarreled. When did they not? “He took exception with Mr. Mackenzie.” Familiar anger nipped at her as she replayed his words in her mind. “He thinks he’s unsuitable.”

Rosalie leaned back and lifted both eyebrows. “Indeed?” A beat of silence followed as she studied Aurelia’s face. “Interesting . . .”

“How is that interesting?” She knotted her hands in her lap.

“Well, that he should care is interesting. Is it not?”

She snorted. “I’m certain it’s pure contrariness. Or some misguided sense of brotherly obligation.”

Rosalie tossed her head back and laughed loudly.

Aurelia frowned at her and sent a self-conscious glance to the other two ladies, who were now openly staring.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Forgive me, Aurelia.” Rosalie forced down her laughter, dabbing at her eyes. Inhaling a sobering breath, she leveled a steady gaze on Aurelia. “That man is
not
like a brother to you.”

A flash of him closing in and pressing against her made her flush and shift her weight on the couch. There had been nothing brotherly about him in that moment, true. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and then shrugged.

“Not in the least.” Rosalie nodded decisively.

“My brother is far kinder,” she agreed. “As is Dec.” There was by far too much hostility between Max and her. Although sabotaging her attempts to make a match seemed malicious even for him. Why should he care what she did with her life?

Rosalie reached up and smoothed the tension lines in Aurelia’s forehead with gentle fingertips. “Come now. Don’t scowl so. You look ravishing this evening. I’m sure all the lads are missing you. Let’s go back out there, so that you can dance with them.”

Rolling her eyes, she permitted Rosalie to lead her from the room, not bothering to contradict her. They wove through the crowded ballroom once again. Aurelia kept an eye out for Buckston, fully intending to honor her promise to dance with him.

“Ah, look. Speak of the devil. It’s Camden.”

Even as a part of her willed herself not to look, she felt herself turning. Felt her gaze tracking across the crowded room until she spotted him.

He moved with purposeful strides across the ballroom, weaving between dancing couples. She and Rosalie weren’t the only ones watching him. He cut a fine figure. People stared after him. Women and men alike. He was that handsome, that tall and virile in his dark evening attire. The consummate rake, he was a rare sight in ballrooms of the
ton.

At that thought, she angled her head. Why was he here? Polite Society functions were not his forte. Aside from her family’s gatherings, he eschewed the balls and routs that occupied so many of her nights. Places such as these, events such as this, they were not for him. Sodom was for him.

Curiosity piqued, she continued to watch him. He slipped from view for a moment and she stepped to the side, craning her neck and gaining sight of him once again as he stopped before a woman pressed against the far wall. The girl shrank into the wallpaper as though she were part of the pattern.

He bowed before the lady. Aurelia assessed her—the pale brown hair pinned demurely atop her head, the length of her nondescript gown. The woman was no older than herself and vaguely familiar. Aurelia felt fairly certain they had shared the same wall before on at least one other occasion.

“Oh, he’s asking Miss Bell to dance.” Rosalie clapped her hands lightly, pleasure writ all over her face. “How kind of him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Miss Bell take to the dance floor before.”

Miss Bell.
She searched her memory, finally recalling her. Yes. Miss Samantha Bell. She was the late Duke of Faircloth’s stepdaughter. Miss Bell’s half sister, Lady Mariah, was the toast of the Season. Miss Bell was her constant companion and shadow.

Gazing across the ballroom at her, Aurelia noted the girl’s stunned expression as she gazed up at Camden. She was clearly not the one accustomed to handsome swains begging a dance. Unfair, she supposed. Miss Bell was not unattractive, but existing aside of her younger, prettier half sister? Who happened to be the daughter of a duke, whilst she was merely a gentleman’s daughter? It must not lend many opportunities for dance partners. Nor suitors, for that matter. Aurelia could relate to such a situation.

She angled her head, watching as he led the still startled-looking Miss Bell onto the dance floor. They watched in rapt fascination—as did many others. Camden seemed unaware of the stares his action was eliciting. Either that or he was indifferent. He looked straight ahead, unaffected as he led Miss Bell to the center of the ballroom floor.

“Isn’t that kind of him?” Rosalie nodded approvingly.

“Yes. Indeed.” It was
kind
of him. Which was not a word she had ever applied to him before, and yet here he was doing something generous and wholly unexpected.

Riveted, she continued watching as he swept Miss Bell in a graceful circle. Camden didn’t dance. Ever. Well, with her, yes, but that had only been to torment her. Dancing with Miss Bell was not driven out of his need to torment. Something had motivated him to walk across a crowded room and beg a dance from a girl who clung to the shadows. Could it simply be compassion? Had he seen her between the potted ferns and decided to take pity? He said something then that cracked Miss Bell’s timid shell and made her smile, and Aurelia suspected it was just that. He was being charitable.

“Good for Miss Bell,” Rosalie said. “I imagine this raises her in the estimation of most gentlemen in this room.” She plucked a glass from a passing tray and took a sip. “A sad state of affairs, but no less true.”

“There you are, wife.” Dec slid close beside Rosalie. “I’ve been looking for you.”

A besotted grin instantly curved her lips. A grin that turned downright dazed as Dec leaned in and whispered something in her ear. She pressed fingertips to her lips but that did little to stifle her giggle.

“Cousin.” Dec winked at her. “Would you mind if I stole my wife away for a dance?”

“Of course not. I might even let you have her for two dances.”

“So kind,” he murmured, lifting Rosalie’s drink from her hand and passing it to Aurelia. With a lingering kiss to his wife’s palm, he swept her onto the dance floor.

Aurelia found a place to deposit the glass and then meandered along the edge of the room, glancing around to confirm that no one seemed particularly attentive to her movements. With a final glance around, she slipped from the ballroom. Lifting her skirts, she hurried down the main corridor, smiling as she passed a pair of ladies.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she turned down a narrow hall. The sounds from the ballroom were distant and muffled now. She opened one door and peered within. A salon. The room did not feel very used. Her drawing might not even be detected for some time in here. She needed a room that met more traffic.

Shutting the door, she continued down the corridor, opening several others until she came to a set of double doors that led to the library. The vast space smelled of rich wood and leather. Several sconces lit the room and a fire crackled in the hearth. The room appeared to be well lived in. A book sat open on the couch where the reader had left it. There also appeared to be a chess game still in play at a table. A plump tabby cat that might outweigh Mama’s fat cat by a good half stone lifted its head from where it rested on the sofa and let out a plaintive meow.

With a final glance over her shoulder to make certain she was still alone, she slipped the scroll from her bodice. She moved to the chessboard, already envisioning placing it there for later discovery. Stopping before the board, her hand hovered over the center.

“What’s this?” A deep voice sounded in her ear. An arm stretched over her shoulder, reaching for the drawing. Her heart jumped to her throat. She whirled around with a yelp just as her palm shot out and smacked Max in the face.

“Ow!” He covered his cheek with one hand. “What was that for?”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people. You startled me!”

He lifted both eyebrows and then lowered them, drawing them tightly over his blue-gray eyes. “What do you have there, Aurelia?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

He smiled, but it was deceptive. There was no humor in the curve of those well-shaped lips. “Let’s see it.” He reached for the rolled up drawing in her hand.

Gasping, she tucked it behind her back and shuffled away, stopping when her thighs bumped the chess table.

His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer. “I can’t believe you. You’re doing it again, you bloody fool.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Don’t
be
that!” His gaze devoured her, eyeing her overheated face. “Give it to me.”

“No.”

He shook his head. “Have you any notion what would happen if it wasn’t me standing here right now? If someone else caught you? This little hobby of yours is as reckless as your trip to Sodom. With you it’s one stupid decision after another.”

“Oh, you arrogant, overbearing—” She swallowed back the rest of her words and inhaled a burning breath. “My actions are none of your business.”

“I can assure you your quest for a husband would be at an end. No one would have you then.”

“I’m sure you care so very much about that,” she scoffed.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Indeed I don’t. But I care about Will and Dec and their wives. I care about your mother. So stop being a selfish brat and end this.”

Anger and hurt welled up in her chest. She suddenly felt tired. Tired of his insults. Tired of his interference. Tired that he made her feel guilty for doing the one thing that gave her fulfillment. She would not be caught, but even if she were, the consequences would be on her. Not her family. They’d weather it. The risk was on her, and it was worth it.

She blinked stinging eyes. “I despise you.”

He smiled then, clearly indifferent, and she despised him all the more for that. She loathed that he could be so cold and unaffected in the face of her animosity. She especially despised that despite her best arguments with herself, he could make her feel ashamed.

“Give me the drawing.”

Her chin went up. “No.”

“Fine,” he bit out. Tension feathered along his square jaw and something knotted low in her belly. “Then I’ll take it from you.”

Max felt as feral as a predator as he watched her shake her head and send the dark coil of hair bouncing over her shoulder. Angling his head, he followed the trail of it. The tip curled enticingly between her breasts. He inhaled at the view. He wanted to wrap his fist around that hair and haul her closer. Lick and kiss that saucy mouth of hers into submission.

She arched away and forced her arm deeper behind her back. The action only caused her breasts to rise even higher within her bodice.