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 and 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?”