The gentle hum of conversation mingled with the chords of a pianoforte and a gentleman’s drifting baritone. Aurelia sat very straight upon her chair, telling herself to relax. Venturing out from the house, beyond the comfort of her close circle of family, was good for her. She couldn’t cloister herself away forever.
The evening hadn’t been so bad. The food was delicious. Even the company had been pleasing. It was good for her. At least that’s what she continued to tell herself. Getting out of her comfort zone and engaging with Society. Taking her mind off the shambles of her life.
Struan Mackenzie’s Mayfair mansion was the height of opulence. The dinner had been no less lavish, a meal fit for the Queen consisting of too many courses to count. The finest food and drink for a couple dozen guests, all titled. All of whom she knew either in name or acquaintance. Clearly the gentleman was all about making connections in the highest echelons of Society. There were at least three marriageable young ladies present, all of whom cast admiring glances his way. She had no doubt he would soon find himself a bride to his liking.
The young ladies in attendance were actually kind to her. That was a novel experience she credited to the fact that she was married now and not a threat to their prospects with Mackenzie. They were no longer competing. And he was clearly the catch they were all vying for.
“I’m sorry that Lord Camden couldn’t attend tonight.”
With a fixed smile, she looked away from the young lady playing the pianoforte to Struan Mackenzie as he stepped beside her. “He was most sorry to miss it as well,” she managed to say without choking on the lie.
Mr. Mackenzie stared at her overly long, and she was almost certain he sensed the falsehood . . . that he knew Max knew nothing about her being here tonight.
“I confess I am a little surprised to be included in your dinner party, Mr. Mackenzie.”
“And why is that?”
She shrugged lightly. “You could have invited an eligible young lady rather than me.” That would have better served his interest.
He smiled slowly, his teeth a blinding flash of white against his golden skin. “I invited you and your husband because I find you both interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Amusing,” he amended. She frowned, not sure she liked that any better than being called interesting.
“I did not realize we were the subject of your amusement.”
“I was curious to see how the two of ye are getting along in your new marriage.”
And she had come here alone. Without Max. What must he think? She stifled a cringe and told herself she did not care what Mackenzie or anyone else thought of her.
“We are doing quite well. Thank you for your well wishes.” She smiled tightly, well aware that he had not precisely wished them well.
He angled his head. “Your husband is an interesting man.”
Interesting? Max? That was a fair assessment. He had long fascinated her.
Mackenzie continued, “I was not at all surprised when I learned the news of your marriage. Not after Lord Camden paid me a call.”
She whipped her head around, scrutinizing him anew. “My husband paid you a visit?” Max made no attempt to disguise his dislike for Mackenzie. Why would he call on him?
The Scotsman nodded as though it were of no real significance. “Yes. Following our encounter at . . .” His voice faded but she knew to what he was referring. Max had called on him after he returned her home from Sodom. It would have been very late. Practically the middle of the night. Why would he have done such a thing?
Mackenzie must have read her bewilderment. He stepped closer, his deep burr a low whisper. “I believe he wanted to guarantee my discretion on your behalf. I assured him he need not concern himself on that account. It is no’ a hobby of mine to ruin young ladies.”
She flushed and nodded once. Max had done that? She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. He had always expressed concern for her reputation. Perhaps she should have been more concerned about Mackenzie’s inclination to keep her secret.
“Lord Camden takes his responsibilities very seriously.” If her voice sounded strained, she was hopeful he did not notice.
“Verra seriously indeed.” He chuckled, his gaze skimming her appreciatively. “And ye were one of his responsibilities even before marriage? Now that is what I find most interesting.”
Her flush burned deeper, and she knew she must be blushing bright red. She watched as his moss green eyes traveled over the length of her before settling on her face.
“Then I suppose you weren’t surprised to learn we had wed.”
He chuckled deeply again. “Ah, no. Not at all. Considering the real purpose of his visit was to warn me off you—”
“What?” She turned and faced him fully, not even pretending interest in the couple at the front of the room anymore.
“Are you so astonished? He warned me to stay away . . .”
“Away?”
“Yes. He warned me away from you.”
Aurelia blinked and stared unseeingly at the elegant folds of his cravat for a long moment, trying to understand what he was saying. Max had warned Struan Mackenzie to stay away from her? It all clicked into place then. “That’s why you did not call on me again?”
Mackenzie shrugged. “We came to a gentlemen’s agreement.”
About her. They came to an agreement about her. As though she weren’t a person but a piece of meat to be fought over? A matter—not a person—upon which to be negotiated. It wasn’t to be borne.
“He wanted my promise not to marry you,” he elaborated. “I gave him my word.”
As if it was only up to Struan Mackenzie. As if she possessed no say . . . no brain.
“In exchange for what?” she bit out, and then shook her head, waving a hand. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
Hot indignation bubbled up inside her. An awkward stretch of silence fell between them. She groped for something to say to fill the void when all she really wanted to do was storm from the room and corner Max somewhere so she could unleash her ire.
“The young Lady Camille is lovely,” she offered to the Scotsman.
The girl had been perfectly cordial to Aurelia, congratulating her on her marriage. Camille was also one of the few present who had been kind to her prior to her marriage.
“I suppose. A little thin. I prefer my ladies with curves.”
Not missing the flirtation, heat scored her cheeks. She felt a frisson of guilt. Max had insisted the man’s interest would not have dissipated because they were now married. Perhaps she should not have scoffed at him.
Then she recalled how angry she was at him. She quickly repressed her guilt.
“Are you happy, Aurelia?” Mackenzie asked, rolling her name in that gravelly burr of his.
She shifted uncomfortably on her feet and blinked at him. “You are blunt, and I don’t recall giving you leave to use my Christian name. It’s Lady Camden now, Mr. Mackenzie.”
“Come. As a former suitor? Are we not permitted a little familiarity?”
She didn’t reply, instead sipped her punch and scanned the drawing room, hoping one of the guests milling about would choose that moment to join them so she did not have to answer Mackenzie’s discomfiting questions.
His burr was low and silky near her ear and his hand brushed her elbow. “Is it too much to think I might care for you?”
She lifted her gaze, reading the seduction in his eyes. This was more than friendly interest.
“Step away from my wife.”