Aurelia felt dazed as she uttered the proper congratulations and well-wishes. Even as she followed everyone into the drawing room for a celebratory toast. Amid all the chatter, amid Henrietta playing at the pianoforte, she felt as though her world had dramatically shifted.
“You do not look pleased,” a deep voice said near her ear.
She blinked at Max standing so very close.
“Whatever do you mean?” Heat rushed over her face at his nearness. “Of course I am thrilled.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, looking unconvinced.
She fidgeted under this blue-eyed scrutiny. “You think you can read me so well?”
He stared at her for a long moment before announcing quietly, “You perceive me an idiot, do you?” He chuckled lightly but the sound held no mirth. Indeed, it made her shift uneasily on her feet. “Well, I know you,” he quickly added. “Spoiled, selfish . . .”
She bristled, hating that his words stung. He did not have the power to hurt her. Not anymore.
“Perhaps,” he continued, his voice silky now, “you are jealous.”
“Jealous?” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “Of my brother and Violet having a baby?”
He nodded. “It happens among females. Your brother finding happiness, moving on, starting a family. Leaving you behind.”
She sucked in a breath at the cruel jab of his words and blinked fiercely. He was wrong. She did not resent her brother’s happiness. Even if she did wish for a slice of similar happiness for herself, she did not begrudge him his own.
“And what of you?” she demanded, leaning closer and pasting a smile on her face lest anyone glance their way and see her scowling. “The lone wolf standing? Are you not jealous? Do you not miss your companions? Who do you carouse with these days?”
He smiled that insufferable grin again. “I’m never alone for long. I’ve no difficulty finding companions.”
She rolled her eyes and looked away, still fuming over his accusation.
Kendrick, the butler, entered the room then. He glanced around, appearing quite harried, his commonly splotchy expression even more flushed than usual. Spotting Max, he quickly made his way across the floor to where they stood together.
With a polite nod at Aurelia, he cleared his throat before leaning in to whisper for Max’s ears alone. She edged closer, trying to decipher whatever he was imparting.
A frown marred Max’s features for a heartbeat—then he was smiling again as though nothing was untoward. Rising, he murmured to Aurelia, “If you’ll excuse me. I need a bit of fresh air.”
With a meaningful nod at Kendrick, he exited the drawing room through the balcony doors.
Something was afoot. She was certain of it.
Aurelia tracked Kendrick’s movements as he made his way across the room to her brother’s side. In much the same surreptitious manner that he had whispered to Camden, he whispered into Will’s ear. Curious indeed.
She was debating whether to approach her brother and demand an explanation or to follow Camden outside when the door to the drawing room, left slightly ajar, was flung open. It struck the wall with an unceremonious crack. A gentleman strode in, glancing wildly around.
Everyone stopped talking at his bold entrance. His cravat hung askew, as though he had been in the process of removing it not very long ago and then forgot he had set about the task.
She had to applaud her brother. He failed to look the least shocked as he turned to face the intruder. “Lord Arlington. This is an unexpected surprise.”
Ah. Arlington. Aurelia vaguely recognized the gentleman now.
“Merlton.” The man nodded once at Will, his gaze hardly touching on him. He was too busy scanning the room, his gaze skipping over each person, clearly searching for someone.
Obviously dissatisfied with his findings, he grunted and swung his gaze back to her brother. “Where is he?”
“He? Who?” Will blinked innocently.
Arlington expelled a great breath, as if mustering patience. “I just left his town house where I was told he was dining here this evening.”
“My apologies, Lord Arlington, I haven’t the foggiest notion who you’re talking about. As you can see, our entire party is assembled here.” Will gestured about the room, the lie tripping easily off his tongue.
Arlington returned his gaze and surveyed the room again, as if he had somehow been mistaken in his first inspection.
Declan moved to stand beside her brother. “Who is it you seek, Arlington?”
“You bloody well—” He stopped himself abruptly, his cheeks reddening as he assessed the ladies present. He nodded at each of them in a semblance of apology. Leveling his voice, he addressed Declan again. “You know of whom I speak. You three have been thick as thieves all your lives,” he accused. Again he looked as though he wished to add more but the presence of the women in the drawing room cut him short.
“Do you mean Camden?” Will exchanged a searching look with Dec. “I’ve not seen him since . . . er, Wednesday. No Tuesday, I believe.”
Her brother should have been on stage. Who knew he could lie so well?
She crossed her arms. Why were they protecting him? Max was a big boy. He’d obviously offended Lord Arlington in some way. Let him answer for his transgressions. And yet she held her tongue.
“Yes, it’s been a few days,” Will said. “He is not here.”
Aurelia narrowed her gaze on the flushed-face gentleman, quickly appraising him. From the way his hands clenched at his sides, he wanted to see Max. Badly. And it wasn’t to chat about the weather. No. He was here for a pound of flesh.
“You speak of Camden?” Freddie called out across the room.
She cringed, already knowing what was coming. Dear Freddie was not the sharpest lad.
“Of course he’s here, Will. You must have forgotten.” Grinning, Freddie nodded as though glad to be of service. “I just saw him step out into the gardens for some fresh air.”
Will and Dec both glared at dear Freddie, and his smile faltered in confusion.
With a fulminating look at Will and Declan, Arlington stormed past her and charged out the balcony doors.
“Really, Freddie?” Will snapped.
Freddie glanced around the room. Even Mama looked aggrieved. Feeling sorry for him, Aurelia moved to Freddie’s side and patted his shoulder, trying to assure him he had not done something wrong. “It’s not his fault,” she defended. He was not to blame for Max having men hunting him down. Perhaps Camden should act in a manner that did not send angry men after him.
Without a reply, her brother was out the door, fast on the heels of Arlington. Dec followed.
The room was silent in their sudden absence. Aurelia lifted her gaze to find everyone staring at each other, the question avid in all their gazes. Unable to stand the silent stares a moment longer, and overcome with curiosity as to what was occurring in the garden, she quickly turned to follow the men outside.
“Aurelia, where are you—”
She looked over her shoulder. “I’ll be back in a moment, Mama.”
“Aurelia,” Violet called after her. “Are you certain you should go out—”
“I’ll only be a moment.”
Once outside, she followed the voices to the balcony that wrapped around the house.
“Damn you to hell, Camden!”
She gawked as Arlington charged across the balcony with a roar and barreled into Max, knocking them both over the balustrade and into the garden.
She gasped and hurried to the railing, hoping Max wasn’t seriously hurt. Heart pounding, she peered over the side. The pair had landed in the bushes in a tangle of thrashing legs and swinging fists. Her brother and cousin raced down the steps. She flinched at the sound of fist meeting flesh.
Thankfully, the spectacle did not last long. Will and Dec peeled Max a
nd his attacker apart. Her heart raced as she eyed Max’s mussed appearance. His too long hair was in disarray, his face flushed. A trickle of blood marred the corner of his lip. He looked savage and her heart gave a treacherous little flip.
Will held Arlington tightly around the chest. The man struggled to break free, shouting, “You bloody bastard, Camden! Stay away from my wife!”
Aurelia crossed her arms. He was dallying with another man’s wife. Not such a surprise, that, and yet a small thread of disappointment ribboned through her. Apparently Max had spoken the truth. He had not yet bedded the Widow Knotgrass. Or he was dallying with both the widow and Arlington’s wife simultaneously.
“Come now, Arlington!” Will interjected. “This is poorly done of you, man.”
Suddenly Aurelia wasn’t the only one on the balcony. Unable to stay away, her mother and the rest of the guests crowded around her, gasping at the tableau below.
“Poorly done of me, is it?” Arlington demanded.
“Yes, you cannot barge unannounced into my home—invade a dinner party, no less, with my family and friends in attendance—”
“How can you call that man a friend and bring him around your family?” Lord Arlington jabbed a finger in Max’s direction and attempted another lunge for him.
Will pulled harder at the furious man, briefly lifting him up off his feet.
“Arlington,” Dec tried to reason, but the man was hearing none of it.
“You dare address me as though I am in error when it is your friend there having a go at my wife like she’s some street tart? Is that not poorly done of him?”
“Arlington,” Dec said sharply. “I’ll remind you there are ladies present.” Her cousin flicked a glance to where she stood with everyone else on the balcony.
Will followed his gaze and scowled. “Everyone . . . please make haste inside,” he pleaded.
“Come now, I believe we have some of Cook’s iced biscuits,” Violet said, ushering everyone back inside.
Aurelia remained.
“Ari,” Will called. “Go inside.”
“And miss this spectacle? Not a chance. I’ve not seen so riveting a performance at Covent Garden.”
With a scornful shake of his head, and an ominous look that told her she would hear more of this later, Will returned his attention to the irate Lord Arlington, who was now on his feet and facing her brother.
Aurelia recalled everything she could remember of Arlington and his wife. Lady Ophelia was much like the Widow Knotgrass—another darling of the ton in her day. A little porcelain doll with enormous blue eyes, a pink bow mouth, and golden hair Aphrodite herself would envy. Of course, Max would be drawn to her. And she to him. She was beautiful, and vain enough to be lulled by his handsome visage.
Arlington was once again shouting at Max. “I should call you out right here—”
“But you shan’t, so get the fool idea out of your head,” Will calmly interjected, hauling the nobleman from the garden and up the balcony steps. “For one, it’s a crime. For two, it would bring shame on your wife . . . on you. Now you’re going to go home and tend to yourself and your wife. Rest assured Camden will not trouble her again.”
“Me? Trouble her?” Max laughed, wiping at his lip and smearing the blood at the corner of his mouth. He looked like a pirate. Or a Viking. Tall and muscular and unaffected at the violence directed at him. “I did nothing she did not ask me to do.”
Aurelia gasped. Heat washed through her.
Lord Arlington broke free of Will and started running down the steps again, his intent to attack Camden abundantly clear. Will caught up with him and hauled him back. This time the man collapsed, the fight gone from him. Her brother wrapped an arm around his waist and practically carried him from the garden.
The garden was silent for a long moment then, save for the thud of Max’s boots. Aurelia narrowed her eyes on him as he made his way back up to the balcony. He laughed lightly, looking bemused as he straightened his rumpled jacket, coming abreast of her.
“You laugh? You’re repellent,” she whispered.
His blue-gray eyes settled on her, and the frost there chilled her. “Ah, high praise from you,” Max mocked. “Am I not worse? Perhaps rat droppings?”
She squared her shoulders. “Oh, I just assumed that comparison tacit.”
“Ari,” Declan chided, obviously hearing their exchange as he joined them.
“Don’t ‘Ari’ me.” She looked swiftly to her cousin before looking back at Max. “You have your pick of women and yet you choose to dally with a married lady.”
“Haven’t you something else to do besides stick your nose in my life?”
“Perhaps you should stop dragging your life into the middle of my drawing room,” she bit back.
“Enough,” Dec snapped. “I grow tired of you two bickering. Is it not enough that we had to break up a brawl at a dinner party where Will and Violet just announced their happy news? That shall be a memory for them to cherish, won’t it?”
Max looked suitably reprimanded. His lips flattened into a hard line.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Aurelia murmured. It was not her intention to add to the evening’s unpleasantness by quarreling with Max.
She avoided the drawing room where everyone was assembled and exited the balcony through the salon, slipping unnoticed upstairs without making her farewells. She knew the breach in etiquette would be addressed later. Mama would not let such a thing pass, but at the moment she did not care. She simply craved the solitude of her room.
Cecily soon joined her and helped her unpin her hair for the night. Reading her mood, her friend did not ask too many questions.
Aurelia stared pensively at her reflection in the mirror as her hair fell in dark waves around her shoulders.
Will and Violet were having a baby. She would be an aunt.
A brief smiled crossed her face in the reflection of the mirror until the memory of her own bent-back, doddering spinster Aunt Daphne flashed across her mind. Daphne collected pillows and cited scripture about the evils of man whenever one was in her presence.
No. She wouldn’t be an aunt like that. She was still young. She had years ahead of her. Years to live and experience life. To taste a kiss other than the one Archibald Lewis had forced on her behind the vicarage when she was sixteen. She would know a kiss that didn’t taste of fish and soured milk.
Her mother chose that moment to enter her bedchamber.
Aurelia bit back a groan and pushed to her feet, knowing very well what was to come. “Mama,” she began. “I know you’re here to lecture me, but you needn’t. I know I should have made my farewells to everyone. My apology for that . . .” She ducked her head, permitting Cecily to pull her gown over her head. “I’m sorry, Mama. It was badly done of me.”
Mama waved a hand. “No. I’m not here about that.” Cecily’s eyes met hers in silent question. Mama did not mean to reprimand her? Something must have happened to distract her from Aurelia’s social gaffe of the night. Something grave indeed.
Her mother sank down at Aurelia’s dressing table bench. She stared at her hands in her lap for several moments before speaking. “Have you given thought to your future, Aurelia?”
Aurelia started, blinking several times, questioning whether her ears had deceived her. Mama often spoke on the subject of her future, but she never inquired as to what she wanted . . . or thought . . . or planned. No, she only ever talked at her. Telling her what she expected her to do. Who she expected her to wed. For marriage to a suitable gentleman was the only option Mama ever presented.
Mama lifted her gaze. She considered Aurelia for a long moment before looking away, glancing at Cecily. “Leave us for a moment, dear, would you?”
Cecily nodded. Gathering up Aurelia’s discarded garments, she left the room after shooting a meaningful look at Aurelia. Her friend would exp
ect a full report later. Aurelia gave her a slight nod of affirmation and then turned to her mother as the door clicked shut behind Cecily. She looked at her expectantly, waiting for what she was certain would be a momentous conversation. It had begun in such an uncharacteristic manner, after all.
“This is splendid news, is it not?” Mama said. “Will and Violet are to have a child.” She paused, a soft smile lifting her lips as she stared at something beyond Aurelia’s shoulder. “It’s a boy, you know. I feel it. I’m always right about these things.”
Aurelia smiled, nodding indulgently. “Every time?”
“I was right about Will and you and Dec. About Agatha’s children. All my friends. You can outfit the nursery based upon my predictions.” Her expression grew faraway. “It seems so long ago that I was expecting my first child.” Her smile grew wistful. “Your father was so very proud. Oh, I know he had his faults, but he loved me. And each of you.”
“Mama.” Aurelia sank down on the bench beside her mother, not about to argue the point. She had never felt as though her father cared for her one way or another. “Are you . . . sad? You’re worrying me.” Her mother was usually so cheerful. Aurelia could never recall a time where she had waxed nostalgic like this.
Mama took her hand in both of hers. “Those were good years. Your father . . . Will and you. Declan. He was like another son to me. His mother would have been happy to know he became a part of our family when his father denounced him. She can be at peace, knowing he’s happy after how abysmally that man treated him.”
Aurelia nodded.
“That’s important for a mother. To see her children content . . . happy and settled.”
For some reason these words made Aurelia uneasy. She was not discontent. She had her drawings. Not that she felt free to explain that to Mama, but they gave her purpose. And yet she could still not truthfully profess to be happily settled. There was something missing. She had become more aware of that since her brother’s and Dec’s marriages. Love was missing. The kind they shared with their wives.
“Even that scamp, Maxim. He’s been like another son.”
All the Ways to Ruin a Rogue Page 5