All the Ways to Ruin a Rogue Page 8

  Rosalie frowned. “You dislike him that much? If he’s truly ineligible, then perhaps I should fetch Will to—”

  “No need. I’ll take care of it.” Max started off through the crowd, cutting across the ballroom floor, ignoring the people staring after him, who doubtlessly were marveling that Lord Camden had not only graced the ball of a very proper dame of the ton, but was actually on the dance floor.

  He dodged a lady that reached for his arm in an attempt to drag him into conversation—or perhaps a dance. He walked with single-minded purpose toward Aurelia, ready to save her from herself.

  No, he was not going to wait for Will to put an end to her flirtation with the likes of Mackenzie.

  He was going to end it himself.

  Aurelia exhaled in relief when the waltz came to an end. Of all the gentlemen who had danced with her tonight—and there had been a record high number, thanks to her new gown—Mr. Mackenzie was the only one whose stare made her decidedly uncomfortable.

  His green eyes were as sharp and cutting as glass, peering into her as though he were trying to evaluate her and decide her worth. Those all-seeing eyes made her feel naked. She almost thought he knew the changes that she had wrought within herself over the last week.

  She had taken control of her wardrobe. A long overdue duty perhaps. Gone were the pastels and flounces and ribbons that did nothing for her shape. A necessary change to avoid a fate of spinsterhood. She needed gentlemen to forget everything they had ever heard of her and want to court her.

  As the waltz came to an end, Mr. Mackenzie stepped back very properly and performed a quick bow. “Thank you for the dance, my lady.” His Scottish burr rolled over her, and she had to admit that it was rather attractive. Truthfully, the man himself was attractive . . . if not a little overwhelming. He was nearly as tall as Max, but burly, not lean. Unlike Max, he looked as though he had spent half his life plowing a field.

  Her thoughts came to a screeching halt. Must she compare every man to Max?

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Mackenzie.”

  “Perhaps I might call on you?”

  Aurelia considered him for a moment. Here was a man who could probably rescue her from her fate—the move to Thurso, the loss of her drawings. Marriage to him could solve everything. And yet she hesitated at the notion. She recalled the feel of his hand at her back. So big it had felt like a giant’s paw.

  “I should like that very much,” she said, telling herself she simply had to grow accustomed to the idea. She had to be open to it . . . to him.

  He inclined his head, the barest of smiles touching his lips. “Very good, then. Until we meet again.”

  She watched as he departed, slipping seamlessly through the crowd. He was handsome. Wealthy. He spoke with an enticing accent. She should be thrilled.

  “You do realize Mackenzie is highly unsuitable.”

  She stiffened at the sound of Max’s voice. She looked over her shoulder at him and sucked in a small breath. He looked startlingly handsome in his dark evening attire. His too long hair was brushed back from his forehead, but she knew it would not take much to ruin the effect. The first moment she exasperated him, he would drag a hand through the rich brown locks and send it feathering back down over his brow in an artful mess.

  Blast, why must she notice things like that? She had known him all her life. His good looks were merely a shell.

  Without bothering with a greeting—he had not, after all—she answered, “He cannot be that unsuitable. He was invited here this evening. Lady Chatham would never allow someone unsuitable through the doors.”

  “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

  Her 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 imm
ediate: 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

  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 winc
ed 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.”