A Good Debutante’s Guide to Ruin by Sophie Jordan

Chapter 11

She stumbled out the door and hurried down the hall, determined to find her way back to the room where she had left Aurelia, not daring to look over her shoulder. Her chest hurt from lack of breath and she realized she had forgotten to breathe. She sucked in air, filling her lungs, but still felt breathless. As though she had run a great distance.

She was moving so quickly, she didn’t have time to stop when a man stepped suddenly from one of the private rooms.

She collided with him, crying out in surprise from the impact. Arms came out to wrap around her waist, steadying her on her feet.

“Ho there!” he exclaimed, his eyes traveling up and down her. “Have a care there. Where are you off to in such haste?” His hand came up to rest on her chest, fingers splaying wide on the bare skin between her breasts.

She gasped at the intimate touch. It came so suddenly and automatic from him. As if he had every right to touch her. She supposed it was the nature of Sodom. What people did to each other here . . . willingly. A stranger’s touch was welcome.

She arched away, but he didn’t unlock his arm from around her waist. She pushed at the mass of his soft, yielding chest.

“What have we here? An eager little dove looking for her next conquest? I’ll gladly offer myself.”

“No, unhand me. I’m not—”

An arm shot over her shoulder, a fist connecting with the stranger’s face.

Immediately the arm dropped from around her and she was free. Her gaze shot to the fallen man. He clutched his nose, glaring over his fingers up at Dec. “Banbury, what in bloody hell—”

“She asked you to unhand her, Hendricks.” Dec stood with legs braced apart, looking ready to tear the man apart.

Hendricks’s glare narrowed on Rosalie. “Since when do you mind sharing?”

Dec took a menacing step forward. Rosalie quickly jumped in his path, pushing a hand against his chest. A brawl in the hall of Sodom was calling more attention to her presence here than she wanted.

Dec stopped, looking down at her with glittering eyes. His hand came up to cover hers on his chest, his fingers warm over her own. Her gaze dropped to her hand against him. It looked small. Fragile. Or perhaps he was simply big.

Hendricks lumbered to his feet and marched past them, muttering under his breath. His tread faded down the corridor and still they stared at one another.

“You should not wander unattended through Sodom.”

Rosalie nodded, soaking in his handsome features as he stared down at her. She released a rattled breath and moistened her lips. His gaze followed the movement. Her belly fluttered.

“I’m trying to find my friend,” she said a bit desperately. So she could flee this place . . . him.

“I’ll stay with you until you do.”

She nodded. How could she refuse? She just discovered firsthand how unwise it was to stroll unescorted throughout the house. Still, neither one of them moved right away. She was achingly aware of their proximity. Of her hand still on his chest, the press of his hand over hers, his heartbeat thumping beneath her palm.

Voices sounded at the end of the hall, and they both snapped to action. He moved to the side, pulling her with him, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow to allow the individuals to pass.

A trio of ladies, faces as hidden as hers, headed in their direction.

“Banbury,” the woman at the center called. “How good to see you, Your Grace. It’s been almost a week. Wait. More than that, I think. Where have you been, you naughty lad?” She glided forward and ran a familiar palm over his chest. She wore a brilliant gold gown and a powdered wig that looked heavy and headache-inducing. “I was just telling my friends they needed to meet you.”

“Lady X,” he greeted.

An alias, obviously. And she was a regular here and well acquainted with Dec. For some reason, this made her hand tighten around his arm.

Lady X turned her attention on Rosalie. “And who is your companion?” She lifted her hand from Dec’s chest and lowered it to Rosalie’s bare arm, stroking lightly. “I haven’t seen you here before, dear.”

“She’s never been here before, so tread easy.” There was humor in his voice, but a warning, too, however softly worded.

Lady X laughed and dropped her hand. “I see. I’ll let you introduce her to Sodom, then. Perhaps we will meet again. Once you’ve broken her in and she is feeling more adventurous.”

Rosalie’s face heated. She doubted she could be any more adventurous than this.

The ladies sidled past, their happy chatter fading away. “Friends of yours?” she asked.

“We’re all friends here.” His mouth twisted into a smile. “Until we’re not.”

“Until it doesn’t matter, you mean.”

He waved a hand idly. “Here? It never really matters.”

She couldn’t help the stab of disappointment. She knew Dec was a rake. Perhaps she wanted to think that she—an anonymous female who had come here for a first kiss—would mean something to him. She wanted it to matter. She wanted to be different for him.

She couldn’t imagine ever having a liaison with anyone and it not mattering, but he did it all the time. And yet buried beneath her disappointment was curiosity. The same curiosity that had led her here in the first place. She wanted to know what all the fuss was about. She wanted more. That’s what she had told Aunt Peregrine. She might not be able to find it in marriage, but could she not find a taste of adventure? Passion?

She didn’t want merely a kiss. She wanted a kiss that she would never forget.

Sliding her hand from his arm, she stepped back. She glanced down the corridor and pointed to a door. “This looks like the one. I believe my friend is in this room.”

He smiled, but there was a grim set to his lips, as if he understood. This was good-bye. “Don’t come back here.”

“I won’t.” Turning, she moved toward the door, feeling his gaze on the back of her dress, and she knew he would wait until she was safely in the company of her friend. Her hand dropped to the latch. Turning, she pushed it open and peered inside. The room was empty. A quick glance at the window revealed the same couple still preoccupied on the bed in the adjoining room. But no Aurelia.

Frowning, she stepped back out into the corridor.

Dec approached. “Your friend?”

“She’s not there.”

“She likely moved on to other diversions. There’s much to see and do in the house.”

She nodded, beginning to feel the stirrings of concern. She hoped Aurelia was all right.

“No worry,” he murmured, plucking her hand and dropping it back on his arm, no doubt sensing her concern. “We’ll locate her. Or Mrs. Bancroft. Surely she knows where your friend is. She knows the comings and goings of everything in Sodom.”

They didn’t move right away. It was as though a string stretched between them, keeping them connected. Keeping them from stepping too far from each other.

“Never been kissed?” he mused, clearly in no hurry to sever the string. “Interesting. You can’t be married, then?”

She laughed lightly, nervously, touching her domino, making certain it was still in place. “Of course not. I wouldn’t be here if I were married, would I?”

His smile was slow and sensuous. Amusement was etched in the well-carved line of his bottom lip. “You think that so absurd? That a married lady would frequent this place? You really have strayed from the flock, haven’t you? How did you even hear of a place such as this?”

“Rest assured, it was quite by accident.” She thought of Aurelia, imagining his expression if she happened to inform him that his cousin was the one responsible for her presence here.

“A happy accident, then. For me.”

“Is it? Even though I’ve changed my mind and wasted your time? You could be with a more willing female right now.”

His gaze skimmed her, a physical touch. “None nearly as interesting as you.”

“Are you complimenting me because you think it will win my favor?” A coy smile lifted her lips. “I’m certain a gentleman . . . a nobleman, no less . . . who looks as you do can have anyone he wants.” She waved a hand at him.

He leaned in, propping a hand on the wall above her shoulder. His body pressed close but stopped just short of meeting hers. And yet his warmth radiated, reaching her, touching her in spots that she never even knew could feel sensation. She inhaled. God, he smelled good. Like clean man and something else that was entirely him, imprinted on his skin. Wind and salt and heat. “It’s not always ‘anyone’ that I want,” he whispered, his warm breath sending a rush of goose bumps across her arms.

“Oh.” The single word escaped her in a breath. He was good. Heat swallowed her face. “Me?” She shook her head. Swallowing, she whispered, “You can’t . . . You don’t—”

“I want the one who isn’t so easily affected. By my title. By pretty words. Like you, yes.” He considered her for a moment, his gaze roving over her bare shoulders, the swells of her breasts. She sucked in a breath, remembering how very nearly transparent the bodice was. The action forced her breasts higher against the thin bodice and his eyes darkened. “I’m going to hazard a guess that you’re surrounded by nobility. Only that explains why you are so unimpressed. Your father perhaps? Is he titled?” At her silence, he shrugged. “Keep your secrets. If it makes you feel comfortable.”

Oh, her secrets didn’t make her comfortable . . . they made her a wreck of nerves.

They proceeded back down the hall in the direction of the stairs. She heard them before she rounded the corner, spotting the boisterous group of men and women hovering in the threshold of a room.

Dec gestured. “Perhaps your friend . . .”

Rosalie scanned the gathering. “I don’t see her among the spectators.”

They stepped closer and Rosalie peered between the bodies to the scene within the chamber.

“Oh,” she choked as she spied four people sprawled in the middle of a massive bed. A man was spread out naked in the center. Three equally unclothed women hovered over him, kissing him . . . everywhere. One even kissed him directly on his—

With an inarticulate sound, Rosalie whirled past the crowd and ran blindly down the hall. Mortified and feeling decidedly . . . overheated, she rounded yet another corner.

She heard his voice behind her, calling her to wait, but she didn’t stop. She had to flee from the shocking display she’d witnessed. From how it made her feel. And perhaps, most importantly, from him.

She was almost to the stairs when he caught up with her. His hand came down on her arm and yanked her back around. “Where are you going?”

She shook her head. “I should never have come to this place. I’m sure you think me foolish and irrational—”

He cut her off with a swift shake of his head. “I think you’re a girl far out of her ilk here. Nothing more.”

A girl. Indeed. A girl on the brink of marriage whether she liked it or not. She had insisted on choosing, but what would her choices be? She gulped with the bitterness of that realization. Choice was an illusion. She had no choice and little control.

Of course the irony wasn’t lost on her that the man standing before her happened to be the one pushing her into marriage. The one controlling her fate.

And yet she didn’t want to be that girl. A girl led. A girl without choice. She wanted to be in control even if it was fleeting.

Even if only for one kiss.

His dark eyes flicked back and forth over her face as if awaiting her response. She could not fathom what he saw. It could not be much in the dim light of the hall. With over half her face hidden by a domino and framed in the black wig, he could not see much. Just her eyes peered out, drinking in the sight of him.

“What are you thinking?” she whispered.

“That you need to go home and forget about this place.” He lifted a hand, and she held still, resisting the instinct to pull away. He brushed one of the tendrils of hair that fell across her shoulder. “Forget me.”

Impossible. She held herself still for a moment, savoring his hand on her hair, the heat radiating from his body, so close to her own. This. It was supposed to be like this between a man and woman.

He smelled good, like soap and male. He was so handsome that it hurt to even look at him. A first kiss should be this. Or rather the moment leading up to the first kiss should be like this. The pull. The heightened awareness. A man whose mere closeness, his face, his eyes, his lips, made her ache.

She would have this. The moment before the kiss.

No. More. She would have the kiss.

Standing on her tiptoes, she circled her hand around his neck and pressed her lips to his. They felt warm, firm but soft. Softer than she had expected from such a hard man. A small breath escaped him, and her stomach fluttered at the gust of warm air in her mouth.

She pulled back, hand loosening on his neck.

He stared down at her, his eyes dark and fierce. “I thought you changed your mind.”

“I changed it back.”

“Why?”

“I decided I wanted my first kiss after all.” She dropped her hand from his neck and started to pull away, satisfied that she had come here to do what she set out to do.

His arm came around her waist, hauling her back, pressing her intimately to his chest, holding her up so that her feet came off the ground. She felt her eyes go wide.

“Then let’s make it count.” His head dipped, and when his mouth came over hers, there was nothing hesitant about it. No, his lips were commanding and thorough, both soft and hard, slanting over hers. It was nothing like that first press of her lips to his. “Open your mouth,” he rasped against her lips.

She obeyed, and gasped at the thrust of his tongue, gliding across hers. He tasted of heat and scotch and male.

He backed her into the wall and she clung to him, relishing the sensation of his strong body sinking against hers. She wrapped both her arms around his shoulders, her fingers delving into his hair.

His kiss deepened, grew harder, his tongue bolder, lapping at hers. She kissed him back, moving her tongue, mimicking his movements and tasting him as he tasted her. She marveled that a kiss could be so consuming. How it could set all of her ablaze.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed. The command made her shake. She hesitated, unsure how to go about that, but before she could speak or move, he grasped one thigh and guided it around his waist. When he reached for her other thigh, she understood and hopped up to meet him.

The thin fabric of her gown fell like a waterfall around her legs, offering no real barrier. She felt him between her legs, his lean hips wedged between her thighs. And that part of him. The bulge of his manhood rubbed at the core of her, where all sensation seemed to begin and end.

She moaned as he thrust himself against her. Her belly clenched.

How did one begin a kiss and not want more? Not do more? Or was it simply that this kiss was better than most?

Yes. That was it. It had to be. It had to be because it was him. Dec.

She grabbed his face with both hands, reveling in the bristly stubble of his cheeks against her palms. She slanted her mouth and licked her way inside his mouth, her thighs tightening around him, instinctively angling so that she felt him even better, harder, right over the throbbing core of her.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Take what you want.”

His guttural voice was like a dose of cold water.

She’d had what she wanted. She’d had her kiss. A kiss with Dec, no less. This needed to stop. Before it became impossible to stop. She knew that point couldn’t be far from now. She ached and quivered so badly. She was certainly already close to that point.

She tore her mouth away, panting, both heartened and alarmed to see that he was panting, too. He wanted her. He ached and quivered for her, too.

They stared at each other in the murky corridor. His features were cast in gloom, but it didn’t matter. She had them memorized, and she could see what was lost to shadow. Every line. Every hollow. She could see him so clearly, so perfectly. And now she had the taste of him to forever go with his image.

She brought her gloved fingers to her lips, brushing the tender flesh. “Oh. My.”

“For first kisses, I’d say you have received a thorough education.”

She nodded once, speech impossible.

“Did it meet your expectations? Your hopes?”

“I . . . yes.” Beyond that.

He brushed her cheek with his hand and his head inched closer again, coming back for more. Her gaze fixed on his mouth, hungry, wanting him, and she realized she might not have the power to resist, to stop this from happening.

“Ah, there you are.”

They jerked apart. Rosalie snapped her attention to the figure approaching them up the stairs. Mrs. Bancroft held her skirts as she ascended. “I was just returning to check on you, my dear.” Her gaze, shadowed and unreadable within the bright plumage of her domino, fixed on each of them in slow turn.

Rosalie moved down one step to meet her. Dec stopped her, stalling her with one hand on her shoulder.

She looked from him to Mrs. Bancroft uncertainly.

The proprietress nodded as though understanding that they needed a moment. “I shall await you at the base of the stairs.”

The desire to call out to her and ask Mrs. Bancroft to return and accompany her warred within Rosalie’s chest. It was cowardly perhaps, but what was left for them now? More kisses? That would only lead to ruin. It was one thing to toe the line, another to dive headlong over the side.

And there was the fact that every moment in his company put her at risk.

But Rosalie said nothing. She let the proprietor of Sodom drift away, leaving her alone with the man whose kiss still burned on her lips . . . on her very soul.

“I must go,” she whispered in her carefully modulated voice.

“You won’t return.” It was not a question but a statement—which he only confirmed by adding, “This place is not for you.”

But you are. You are for me.

The wretched thought snuck into her heart, unbidden.

She nodded in agreement, panicked at the foolish direction of her thoughts. “I won’t be back.”

Slowly, he lifted his hand from her shoulder. Everything about him seemed resigned, and perhaps that was regret in his eyes.

Satisfaction curled through her. It was a dangerous thing . . . this feeling that he had enjoyed their kiss, that he regretted its end. That he enjoyed her. That she was somehow different than the multitude of women to pass in and out of his life. In and out of his bed. Dangerous indeed.

She was an indiscretion. She was his stepsister. Two factors that meant this would never happen again.

“Your name, then. At least leave me with that.”

“No names,” she murmured, trying not to choke on the idea of giving him her true name.

“But you know mine. Banbury. If you . . .” He paused and sliced fingers through his dark, unruly hair. As though he did not know quite what he was doing or saying. “If you ever have need of me, or wish to see me again, you may contact me. Directly . . . or send word through Mrs. Bancroft.”

She blinked. Was he truly inviting her to see him again? That feeling that she was somehow different, special, reasserted itself. It lightened her heart and made her wish. Made her wish she was someone else so that she could be with him.

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary.” She inclined her head. “I received what I came for. Thank you for obliging me.”

She turned without lingering for his reply. Mrs. Bancroft waited for her at the bottom of the stairs.

“Well. I trust you are satisfied?” she asked as she looped arms with Rosalie.

“Quite so. Thank you. Have you seen my friend?”

“I believe she’s engaged in a game of whist. Let’s fetch her before she gets in over her head.”

Rosalie frowned. “Is it a high stake game?”

“Oh. Indeed. The only games to be had at Sodom are high stakes, but not in the manner you are thinking. So let us fetch her while she still has her clothes and hasn’t wagered away her virtue. I think that might be more than she bargained for at her first night at Sodom, don’t you agree?”

With a gasp, Rosalie quickened her pace, alarmed at the very prospect of Aurelia now naked in a room full of strangers.

Fortunately, when they found her she was still garbed and sitting at a table with none other than Lord Camden. Shirtless. She couldn’t see below the table to detect if he still wore his trousers, but he did not look too happy as he sat there—ostensibly losing at cards.

Rosalie stopped in the threshold. This room was better lit than the upstairs. Even with the wig and domino, there was a slight possibility he might recognize Aurelia.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying from across the room, but Aurelia’s lips were moving and her head was in that cocky angle of hers. Rosalie knew it meant her ire was up. Aurelia was annoyed, and if she wasn’t careful, the viscount would guess her identity, disguise or no disguise. They were quite familiar with each other, after all. Camden was one of her brother’s closest friends.

“Mrs. Bancroft,” she said, “would you mind having my friend meet me at the front door?”

“Of course.”

Rosalie watched for a moment as the proprietress made her way across the room, stopping at intervals to exchange pleasantries. She was the consummate hostess. She stopped at Aurelia’s table finally, patting the well-muscled shoulder of the viscount fondly. Of course he was a regular here, too—just like Dec—and the lady would know him.

Rosalie glanced over her shoulder, almost like she was expecting to find him there, conjured by the mere thought of him. She really needed to make herself scarce. If he saw her in this lighting, he’d take one look at her and know.

Suddenly, Aurelia was before her, face flushed and eyes bright with merriment. “Rosalie, how did it go?”

She shook her head. “We have to leave. I’ll tell you on the way home.”

Nodding, Aurelia followed her, holding her questions until they were in a hack and headed across town.

“Well?” her friend pressed, settling back on the squabs. “Did you have your first kiss then?”

“I saw Lord Camden was at your table,” Rosalie countered, not ready to talk about her kiss. “Did he recognize you?”

Aurelia made a snort and her flush deepened, creeping all the way down her throat into her décolletage. “That boor. Max only sees what he wants to see.”

“Did he recognize you?” she demanded. “Do you know for certain?”

Aurelia shrugged. “Possibly, but he wouldn’t have dared say anything. He wouldn’t risk ruining me. I’m Will’s sister. And Dec’s cousin. He wouldn’t be that inconsiderate of his friends.” This last bit was said with something of a sneer. As though she didn’t think he would refrain from ruining her reputation simply for her sake—only theirs.

Dread closed in on Rosalie, tightening her throat. If Camden mentioned seeing Aurelia at Sodom that night, Dec might walk down the path to concluding that she had been there, too.

Aurelia saw her expression and patted her hand reassuringly. “Max will not utter a word to anyone. Don’t look so sick. Trust me. Now tell me. Did you kiss—”

“Yes.”

The squabs squeaked as Aurelia adjusted her weight on the seat across from her. She fairly bounced in her eagerness. “Ohh, do tell. What was it like? What was he like? I’m sure Mrs. Bancroft wouldn’t have selected anyone for you short of—”

“He was like—” she cut in, pausing before adding, “Declan.”

Aurelia stopped bouncing where she sat on the squabs, her mouth dropping in a small O of shock.

“You kissed my cousin?”

Rosalie nodded. She needed to confide to someone, and as Aurelia was the only who could ever know about tonight, she was it.

“You and Declan kissed?” she pressed, as though that clarification were necessary in addition to this name.

Rosalie gave voice to her confirmation this time. “Yes.” Then she winced. “Or rather I kissed him.” She had flung herself at him.

“You did?”

“Well, the first time. And then he kissed me.” Properly. Thoroughly.

“But you initiated it?” If possible, Aurelia’s eyes grew even larger.

“I know,” Rosalie groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I shouldn’t have let it happen. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Yes, she did, but she wasn’t sharing with Aurelia that she found her cousin irresistible and the perfect candidate to act out all her wishes for something more.

“Well this is an amusing turn of events.”

Rosalie looked up from her hands and cut her a glare.

“Sorry,” Aurelia replied without an ounce of repentance. Clearing her voice, she attempted what she must have deemed to be the suitable amount of seriousness. “Did he know it was you?”

“Good God, no! No!” The idea made her skin itch. “And he can’t! He can’t ever know it was me.”

Aurelia nodded. Untying the strings from her mask, she dropped the fabric on the seat beside her. “Of course not.” She fell silent, her gaze speculative across the carriage.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Simply considering.”

“Considering what?”

“You and Declan.”

“There is no me and Dec. He’s trying to get rid of me, as you are well aware.”

“Yes. Rather desperately. Too desperately perhaps? I wonder why that is?”

Rosalie shook her head. “You read too much into this. He hates my mother and I am merely an extension of her.”

“I think that is a rather simplistic view. He might have thought that way in the beginning, but I’m sure he no longer does. Or he no longer will once he comes to know you better.”

Rosalie shrugged. Her gaze drifted to the small crack in the curtains and the passing buildings. “Really, this is moot. There is nothing more to say about it.”

“Well,” Aurelia continued. “You’ll be under his roof for the rest of the Season. Anything can happen. Perhaps you need to open yourself to the—”

Her gaze snapped back to Aurelia. “Nothing will happen.”

“But it already did.”

“And he doesn’t know that,” she reminded tartly.

Aurelia sniffed like it was a debatable point. “He wanted you tonight . . . I’d wager he wants you, Rosalie. That on some level, he knew it was you tonight. He just needs to realize it.”

Rosalie stared at her, stunned. “No. He does not need to realize it.” He must not. “Please do not attempt to match-make me with your cousin.”

Her friend settled back in her seat, her lips flattening into a mutinous line.

“Promise me, Aurelia,” Rosalie pressed, drawing out her name in warning.

“Very well. I promise to do nothing. Only because there’s nothing I need to do. You’re under his roof. I predict proximity and frequency of said proximity shall take care of matters.”

Rosalie swallowed.

A cold sweat broke out over her at the idea of Dec realizing she was the girl he’d been with tonight. If it was the eventuality Aurelia predicted, then perhaps she needed to hasten all her efforts toward matrimony. Because, despite what Aurelia suggested, she knew that Dec discovering the truth of this night’s deeds would not end well for her.

She sucked in a deep breath and resolved that it wouldn’t happen. As though sheer will alone could prevent it from occurring. Her mind worked, shoring up her defenses against the possibility. It was clear there was only one thing to do, and she was already doing it. Perhaps halfheartedly. But no more. Now she would seek a husband in earnest.

Dec lingered another half hour at Sodom’s. He moved from room to room, looking for something to divert himself, hoping even though he knew it was fruitless that he might spot his mystery lady. He joined Max at the tables just as his friend was shrugging back into his clothing.

“You lost your clothes, man?” he asked on a chuckle. “Never knew anyone to out-wager you.”

“A cheating, barbed-tongue hoyden got the best of me.” He yanked his jacket angrily back into place. “Not to worry. I’ll have satisfaction.”

Whoever the chit was, Dec felt sorry for her in that moment. Max was rarely given to anger or ill temper. He was all smiles and jests, which gave those rare moments when he was in a temper all the more weight. He was no one to trifle with when he was in a mood.

“Are you heading upstairs?” Dec asked.

Max hesitated, a scowl still etched on his features. “No, to home. You?”

Dec nodded, understanding as he thought of what awaited him at home. He’d had his fill of Sodom for the night, too. He rubbed his mouth. His lips still felt warm.

Strange. He’d come here looking to erase all thoughts of Rosalie, and had succeeded for a short time. Too short. Now he was back to thinking of her again. And a lady whose name he did not even know. Damned vexing night. He was still returning home with an aching cock. Precisely the state he had been in when he arrived at Sodom.

“Should have stayed home,” he muttered.

Immediately he knew he didn’t mean it. If he had stayed home, he wouldn’t have claimed her first kiss. He would not have been the one. Some other bastard would have taken that from her. His hands curled reflexively at his sides.

He wouldn’t have the memory of her taste. He wouldn’t have experienced the way she came alive in his arms, waking to passion, to his touch, his mouth—to him. His only regret was that he would have nothing more of her.

He couldn’t stop himself from scanning the room yet again as he took his departure, hoping for one last sight of her. But no. She was gone.

The two men walked out into the night.

Max looked at him. “Will you be at the Waverley ball?”

He frowned. “Should I know about it?”

Max gave his cuff a tug, as if he could not quite get the fit right after undressing in Mrs. Bancroft’s parlor. “Only the biggest event of the Season. Thought with your stepsister on the market, your aunt would insist that you make an appearance. Lend your support and all that.”

He shrugged, marveling at the slight tension running through him at the mention of Rosalie. The chit had the temerity to dress him down outside his bedchamber. After everything he had done for her. After he had taken her in even though her mother was responsible for ruining his childhood, taking away everything good and innocent he once had.

And then she had gone and bewildered him with her concern for his injuries. He couldn’t recall a woman ever attempting to play nursemaid to him, but she had been quite ready to the task.

“I don’t see why that’s necessary,” he said. “My aunt is doing a fair enough task of ushering her about. What of you?” he inquired.

Max barked a laugh. “That’s amusing. Might have dinner at the club. Who knows from there?”

A lone hack clattered noisily down the street. The hour was late, and he felt decidedly reluctant to return to his bed. “I’ll meet you for dinner.”

“Brilliant.” Max clapped him on the back, the force of which made him wince. Max caught sight of his expression. “Sorry, there. You spar today?”

Dec nodded.

“You know there are other ways to exert yourself. Some far more pleasant than fisticuffs. Perhaps you need to spend more time at Sodom.”

The suggestion only made him scowl. He hadn’t found release tonight as he had hoped.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. Perhaps tomorrow he’d find a chit to shake him from his odd mood. A pleasing female with eager lips and yielding flesh. Or one that wasn’t his stepsister. One that was agreeable to more than a single kiss. How difficult could it be? It had always been easy enough before.