A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin

by Sophie Jordan

  As much as she liked?

  That was a dangerous thought indeed because right now she didn’t think she would ever stop liking this.

  She rotated her hips, grinding against him. His breath hitched. She grinned down at him and echoed his early query, “Is that your spot?”

  His smile widened. “Saucy, aren’t you?” He fisted her hair, wrapping it around his hand and wrist and tugging her mouth back down toward him. He feasted on her lips, licking, nipping, growling. “Do whatever you like. Take what you want.”

  What he was inviting her to do thrilled her. He wanted her to take command? Feminine power swelled inside her. She continued to grind over him, rotating her hips on top of him. Quite accidentally, she moved in a way that shot sensation from her core straight to every nerve in her body.

  “Oh!” she cried out, pressing harder on that spot.

  “Find your sweet spot, did you?” he murmured approvingly, his fingers flexing on her hips.

  She whimpered, everything in her tightening as she worked herself over him.

  “Rosalie,” he gasped. “You’re going to make me . . . I need to be inside you.”

  Nodding, she lifted herself and reached between them, closing her hand around his hardness. She guided him inside her, gasping as she lowered herself down on his shaft. He pushed into her, hot and pulsing,

  She watched him, that feeling of empowerment swelling higher in her chest. And something else. Emotion too big, too intense to define.

  He arched his throat, throwing back his head as she eased down, almost seating herself fully. His breath came in hard spurts.

  She was sore from before, her stretching muscles burning in a good way, the friction making goose bumps break out over her flesh.

  He groaned her name. His hands tightened and he pulled her the rest of the way, impaling her on him.

  “Oh!” She arched her spine, certain she had never felt him so deep before.

  He propped up on his elbows, taking her breast in his mouth. “Move,” he growled wetly around her nipple. “Move or I’m flipping you over.”

  She moved, finding a rocking rhythm that brought her the most pleasure. She angled her hips so that every time she came down, she put pressure on that delicious, magical little spot that made her fly out of her skin.

  “That’s it.” His fingers tightened in her buttocks and she moved harder, faster, driving toward that place he took her before. He watched her, the sight of her working above him, a slick sheen starting to glisten on her small, berry-­tipped breasts, bringing him closer to release. Her fingers tightened around the nape of his neck and he bit down on one of her nipples.

  Her entire body tightened, contracted, and she felt her channel clench around his cock.

  Her mouth parted and he kissed her, swallowing her scream as she came apart, shaking and shivering over him. She collapsed on top of him and he flipped her over without severing the contact of their bodies. He moved then, pounding over her, racing toward his climax, his fingers digging into the swells of her bottom.

  His release came, blinding hot. He dropped over her, burying his head in her neck. She relished the rapid rising and falling of his chest.

  “Oh,” she breathed on something that was part sigh, part laugh. “Is it . . . always like this?” She sighed in contentment, closing her eyes, thoroughly satiated. Soon she was asleep.

  He lifted his head to gaze solemnly down into her flushed face. He smoothed sweaty strands of hair back from where they clung to her face and neck and removed himself from her body with some reluctance. Positioning himself against her side, he stared down at her, admiring the line and hollows of her face, the sweet curve of her chin, that delicious upper lip with its pronounced dip in the middle.

  “No. Not every time.” But a whisper meandered through him, settling with surety in his gut. But with her it would be. It would be this way every time.

  He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. He knew because he had never even thought such a thing remotely possible before.

  Chapter 21

  Dec didn’t know how long he watched her sleep. Propped on one elbow beside her, his hand would occasionally stray to touch her face, her hair, the curve of her shoulder. He was tempted to have her again. Only concern for her comfort stayed his hand from slipping under the bedding and finding her warm softness waiting for him between her thighs. He’d used her untried body well. She’d be sore. He’d let her recover before he took her again. For take her he would.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind he had thought maybe once he had a taste of her, it would be enough. He’d be satisfied. He knew instantly he had been wrong. He’d wanted her again. She made him feel. Hot sensation burned through him, shattered the usual numbness he felt. Nothing about joining his body with hers had been the usual. Everything had been more. Felt more.

  And he wanted more.

  Almost as soon as he finished. He did not think this desire for her would fade any time soon, and that left him with a bit of a dilemma.

  She slept on blissfully unaware of his perusal, his touch, his thoughts. He would marry her now. There was no alternative. And he’d known that when he’d come to her room tonight. He knew and decided that he simply didn’t care. Having her would be worth it.

  And it had been. He wouldn’t regret that even if he did feel uneasy over the prospect of marriage. Not unusual. He had vowed to never wed. To let the title pass to Will and his line.

  But now everything had changed. He had changed. He didn’t allow himself to examine that too closely. His thoughts shied from considering what it was about Rosalie, about them together, that made him decide he would have her, this, forever.

  He only knew that he couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t endure her marrying another man. He wouldn’t stand by as another man took her to his bed. He wouldn’t watch as her belly swelled with the children of another man.

  That would be him. Those would be his children. Something fluttered in his chest at the idea of a daughter with Rosalie’s carroty-­red hair. He wanted Rosalie. He wanted her children to be his children, too.

  If she’ll have you.

  The whisper floated through him, revealing an insecurity he had not even realized he harbored. She had given herself to him tonight not once but twice. Why would she not take him for her husband?

  He rose from the bed with silent movements, gathering up his clothes in the murky predawn air. He didn’t want to embarrass her. And somehow he knew she would be embarrassed if her maid found him in her bed in the morning. At the door, he paused and glanced back at her one final time before slipping from the room.

  Waking alone had been a disappointment. Until her maid strolled into the chamber. Then she realized that Dec had spared her the embarrassment of facing a servant while wrapped up in him. The maid arched an eyebrow as she reached for her night rail at the foot of the bed and slid it over her head.

  “Good morning, Sally. It was rather warm last night,” Rosalie murmured, tucking her unruly hair behind her ears.

  “Of course, miss.” Nodding, Sally moved to the armoire and selected a day dress. “Is this acceptable?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She quickly dressed, noticing how different, how sensitive, her body felt beneath the brush of her fingers and weight of her garments. She frowned when she noticed the maid pulling out her luggage. “Sally?” she inquired, waving to the valise and trunk.

  “His Grace said you’re leaving today.”

  Her stomach bottomed out. “Leaving? For where?”

  Sally averted her gaze, looking uncomfortable. “He did not share the particulars with me, miss. He merely instructed for me to pack all your things.”

  She nodded numbly. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. Was he rid of her now? Would he send her back to her mother? It seemed unlikely that he would do such a thing, especially after everything that had h
appened. She didn’t understand. She knew last night would change things, but was he truly throwing her out?

  She sat still as stone, stomach churning as Sally brushed and arranged her hair. Once the maid was finished, she hurried from her chamber, determined to get to the bottom of this. Aunt Peregrine and Aurelia were in the dining room, but not Dec. She managed to rattle off some excuse to them about not eating before hastening away.

  She located Dec in his office with his man of affairs. His expression was unreadable, his eyes deep and intent as he looked up from his desk, and she flushed. Bent over with one hand pressed flat on the desktop, his hair falling low on his forehead, he looked rakish and handsome and made her belly churn for entirely different reasons than why she had sought him.

  “Excuse me, Your Grace, but could I have a word with you?” Thankfully, her voice sounded even and calm, reflecting none of her inner turmoil.

  He nodded at his man of affairs, dismissing him. The gentleman gathered up his ledgers and left the room with a circumspect nod for Rosalie.

  Dec rounded his massive desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “You wanted a word?”

  She nodded and approached, wondering how she could feel so awkward with a man she had just shared everything with only a few hours ago. At this point he knew her body better than she did.

  His green eyes darkened to a stormy jade, and she suspected he was remembering, too. And yet he was sending her away. Her chest tightened and she looked down at her hands, hoping he didn’t read her hurt and bewilderment.

  She stopped before him, careful not to touch him where he stood, leaning so negligently against his desk. Inhaling, she looked up. “You’re sending me away?”

  “Under the circumstances, I think it’s for the best—­”

  “You think putting me out of sight will erase last night?” She blurted the question before she could stop herself. Her emotions rode too high to the surface. She could not stop her temper from flowing free. “Sending me will not undo it—­”

  “Rosalie—­”

  “Perhaps it’s easy enough for you to forget, but it wasn’t me who came into my bedchamber. That was all you.”

  “Oh? It was all me? Did this not begin at Sodom?” He cocked his head, his eyes sparking in challenge.

  “It happened. You and me . . . Melisande’s daughter. You never wanted me here, and now you—­”

  “Rosalie—­”

  “—­regret it. Well, I won’t!” She beat a hand against his chest, too overcome. “I won’t regret it, damn you!”

  He grabbed her flailing fist and hauled her into his arms, smothering her rant with a kiss that she melted into instantly. His arms locked around her, holding her tightly. She made a mewling sound in the back of her throat as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “That’s how I knew,” he said, his deep voice making her skin shiver with goose bumps.

  “Knew?” She blinked groggily, her lips brushing his as she spoke.

  “That little sound you make. You made it at Sodom and it drove me mad. You made it in the library. You make it anytime I’m doing something you like.”

  She smiled idiotically. “Then I must make that sound constantly.”

  “It lets me know I’m doing something right.” He nibbled on her bottom lip, his tongue flicking out to tease the swollen flesh.

  When it came to her body, he was always doing it right. Suddenly, she recalled her anger, and that as delicious and distracting as his mouth felt on hers, he was sending her away!

  “Why are you kissing me? You’re kicking me out—­”

  “To my aunt’s. I’m sending you and Aunt Peregrine and Aurelia to Will’s. It’s not seemly for you to stay here—­”

  “Why not?” Her fingers played against his jacket, beating a light patter against the hardness underneath the fabric. “No one knows about last night. No one need know of it. I’ve been staying here. You never thought it unseemly before.”

  “That was before we announced our engagement.”

  She stared. Her mouth perhaps parted on a gasp, but she couldn’t be certain. She could only fixate on his face. On the utter seriousness of his expression. The deep green of his eyes.

  “Our engagement?” she echoed.

  “Yes. With all haste, I should think.”

  “You want to marry me?” Her heart swelled in her chest at the very idea, the notion she had not permitted herself to entertain. Marriage to Dec played out before her. Nights like last night all the time. Being with him when he wasn’t looking at her like she was some unwanted visitor. It was too much to believe.

  He smiled at her like she was some daft creature. “I should think after last night that was obvious.” At her silence, his smile slipped. “Was that not obvious, then? Did you not think I would make an honorable offer? After taking your innocence? Did you think I would ruin you like that?” He looked almost offended.

  She nodded weakly. “I’m not entirely experienced in matters such as these.”

  His expression softened. “Of course. Indeed you are not.”

  “Are you offering, then?” she asked pertly. “Because I’ve yet to be offered anything as far as I can recollect.”

  For a moment she thought he would simply shrug off the comment. After all, she had not exactly behaved in the manner of a proper debutante. Proper debutantes did not sneak out to houses of ill repute for illicit liaisons. Nor did they let men not their husbands into their beds. But then he stepped back. She watched in bewilderment as he bent on one knee at her feet.

  “Rosalie Hughes . . . will you honor me . . .”

  Understanding dawned. She felt her eyes widen in her face. Her hands flew to her mouth. Shaking her head, she reached for his hands in an attempt to urge to his feet. “You don’t have to—­”

  “ . . . by becoming my wife?”

  She nodded mutely, unable to find her voice. She was in the process of tugging on his hands, urging him back to his feet, when the doors suddenly opened.

  “Declan, have you seen—­ Ah!”

  Aunt Peregrine looked on the verge of collapsing in the threshold as she took in the scene of Dec on bended knee before Rosalie.

  Dec rose and stood beside Rosalie, his hand at her back as they faced his aunt and now his cousin.

  Aurelia glowed. “I knew it!” She punched a fist in the air and gave a little bounce.

  Dec chuckled. “Well, that takes care of that. I was worried it might be awkward announcing our impending marriage.”

  Aunt Peregrine sputtered even as Aurelia rushed Rosalie and kissed both her cheeks exuberantly. “I’m just so thrilled we never have to let you go! Now you don’t need to marry some old goat!”

  Rosalie laughed lightly, feeling dizzy from everything that had happened in the last few minutes. Was she really to be married? To Dec?

  “Aunt, I’m certain you understand the need for Rosalie to relocate to your home until we’ve married?”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh! Of course! We must pack!” She moved in a little circle before heading for the door at a speed Rosalie would not have thought her capable. She was almost out the door before she stopped with a jerk. She looked back at them both with wide, panicked eyes, waving one finger aloft in the air. “Oh, but the wedding! We must discuss! We’ve much to plan!”

  “It’s well in hand, Aunt Peregrine. We will discuss all the details later.”

  She bobbed her head and then plunged back out the door.

  Aurelia remained, smiling at them both with a knowing, smug little grin. She nodded, her brown eyes bright. “You two.” She pointed a finger at each of them. “I knew it. I knew you were mad for each other.”

  Rosalie shifted uneasily. She was mad for Dec . . .

  “Indeed, cousin?” Dec’s lips curled in amusement, his fingers moving in a small rhythmic stroke at the sma
ll of her back that made her think of the way he had touched her last night. The way those fingers had explored her body again and again.

  Aurelia arched a fine dark eyebrow. “Indeed. Who would ever have guessed that when you called on us to help chaperone Rosalie, you would fall desperately in love with her?”

  Instantly, his hand stopped moving on her back. He stilled so very completely beside her. Everything inside her seized tight, including her lungs. She couldn’t breathe.

  She was afraid to even look at him, afraid to see the denial of Aurelia’s words in his expression. But she didn’t need to see his face to know. She felt the denial in the way his hand slipped away and dropped from her back.

  He didn’t desperately love her. Of course not. She wasn’t so fanciful and simple-­minded to think she had stolen his heart.

  He’d bedded her and now he would wed her because he was honorable. Somehow he had overcome his bias against her because she was Melisande’s daughter, but he would not love her. She didn’t even know if he could.

  Aurelia was reading too much into it. She would not make that mistake. She would not believe in what wasn’t there. What didn’t exist.

  He would marry her but he would never love her. She understood that even if her heart didn’t . . . even if that stupid lump beneath her breastbone ached for more.

  Chapter 22

  The week passed in a blur. Rosalie moved into the Earl of Merlton’s residence. From there she was ushered into a flurry of activities in preparation for their wedding. Dressmakers. Long hours with Cook poring over the menu. Aunt Peregrine labored over the guest list until shadows rimmed her eyes. All names of ­people Rosalie didn’t even know, so she had little to contribute in that arena. Then there were the rounds of parties, balls, routs. All carefully selected by Aunt Peregrine. Dec attended with her, dutifully at her side. The perfect fiancé. Blast him. Not so much as a stolen kiss. Not even the brush of his hand against her.

  At first she told herself she was imagining things. He was not distant and quiet, but merely overwhelmed with the flurry of activity. But when she had tried to entice him out onto the balcony with her at a dinner party thrown in their honor by a friend of Aunt Peregrine and he politely refused, she knew. He didn’t want to be alone with her.