The 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.
“Stay away from me.” Her voice shook a little, and he smiled down at her, enjoying that he was so obviously affecting her.
He closed in, wrapping his arms around her, bringing her flush against his chest. He fought to ignore the sensation of her pressed against his body as his hands slid down the length of her arms. Her eyes gleamed amber fire in her face, widening as his fingers reached her wrists.
She scanned his features as though she had never seen him before. Indeed, he, too, felt as though he was seeing her anew. He could actually count the tiny flecks of gold in her eyes. He noted the freckle beside her right eyebrow that was darker and larger than the rest of her freckles.
The two of them weren’t standing in a ballroom or the drawing room of her brother’s house. No one stood nearby ready to step in and put a stop to their quarreling should it become too much. This wasn’t Sodom with countless eyes on them, watching their every move, staying his hand from doing anything he should not.
They were alone. Anything could happen. Especially things that shouldn’t happen.
Her stare dropped to his mouth before snapping back up to his eyes. A telltale flush stained her cheeks.
His hands folded over hers, clenched so tightly together. Her fingers were long and slim. He tested their shape and length. An artist’s hands. He felt the parchment through the cracks in her fingers.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered.
“No, you don’t,” he growled. “You can ruin people’s lives.”
Her gaze bored into him. “It’s all I have. There’s nothing else. I need this.”
“Find another hobby,” he said, refusing to let her thaw his ire. She risked too much. On this, he wasn’t wrong. Her drawings could wreak havoc. He knew that firsthand. He pried her fingers apart and snatched hold of the drawing, holding it away from her with no care for crinkling the parchment.
But she cared. She cried out and tried to grab it back. He backed away, moving out of range. He glanced to the hearth. She followed his gaze and her eyes widened in horror.
“No! Don’t!” She lunged at him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, holding her at bay. She pushed against him, trying to reclaim the scroll.
He turned and faced the fire, ignoring her hopping and surging against his back, beating him with balled-up fists.
He had a moment’s hesitation as she choked out behind him, “Camden, please! Don’t!”
Pushing aside the stab of doubt, he tossed the scroll into the fire, watching grimly as it went up in an angry nest of red and orange flame.
With a strangled cry, she surged around him as though she would dive for it, heedless of burning herself. He hauled her back by the waist, and she turned in his arms, raining her fists on his chest in a violent fury.
“Enough! Have you lost your mind?” He wrapped her in his arms, but she still struggled and writhed as though he had just tossed a living thing into the fire and not a simple drawing.
“How could you?” Her brown eyes blazed at him and he muttered a curse at the sheen of tears there.
The doubt he had felt earlier came roaring back now.
“Satisfied?” she demanded, her voice flat, dull. Her gaze drifted to the fire where the parchment was naught but blackened ash. “You must have enjoyed that.”
“It was for your own good—”
“Spare me your altruism.” She struggled to break free and he let her go this time. She backed away, her steps hard little jarring drops on her heels. Her gaze seared him, raking him with such burning contempt. “This is about punishing me and nothing else.”
Was it? Perhaps it was. For years that had been his sole function around her. He couldn’t even remember what it was like to be anything else with her. This was just what they were.
She rubbed the heel of a palm against her eyes. Ah. Bloody hell. She was on the verge of tears. He’d never seen her cry before. He didn’t think Aurelia the sort of female to succumb to tears.
“No more.” She shook her head, inching back farther and jabbing a finger at him. “Stay away from me.” She turned and fled the room as if the hounds of hell were after her. He stared after her until she was gone.
He should feel triumphant. He had done nothing wrong. Her almost-tears should not matter. Whether he had crossed a line and hurt her feelings should not matter. And yet it did.