“Arlington,” Dec said sharply. “I’ll remind you there are ladies present.” Her cousin flicked a glance to where she stood with everyone else on the balcony.
Will followed his gaze and scowled. “Everyone . . . please make haste inside,” he pleaded.
“Come now, I believe we have some of Cook’s iced biscuits,” Violet said, ushering everyone back inside.
Aurelia remained.
“Ari,” Will called. “Go inside.”
“And miss this spectacle? Not a chance. I’ve not seen so riveting a performance at Covent Garden.”
With a scornful shake of his head, and an ominous look that told her she would hear more of this later, Will returned his attention to the irate Lord Arlington, who was now on his feet and facing her brother.
Aurelia recalled everything she could remember of Arlington and his wife. Lady Ophelia was much like the Widow Knotgrass—another darling of the ton in her day. A little porcelain doll with enormous blue eyes, a pink bow mouth, and golden hair Aphrodite herself would envy. Of course, Max would be drawn to her. And she to him. She was beautiful, and vain enough to be lulled by his handsome visage.
Arlington was once again shouting at Max. “I should call you out right here—”
“But you shan’t, so get the fool idea out of your head,” Will calmly interjected, hauling the nobleman from the garden and up the balcony steps. “For one, it’s a crime. For two, it would bring shame on your wife . . . on you. Now you’re going to go home and tend to yourself and your wife. Rest assured Camden will not trouble her again.”
“Me? Trouble her?” Max laughed, wiping at his lip and smearing the blood at the corner of his mouth. He looked like a pirate. Or a Viking. Tall and muscular and unaffected at the violence directed at him. “I did nothing she did not ask me to do.”
Aurelia gasped. Heat washed through her.
Lord Arlington broke free of Will and started running down the steps again, his intent to attack Camden abundantly clear. Will caught up with him and hauled him back. This time the man collapsed, the fight gone from him. Her brother wrapped an arm around his waist and practically carried him from the garden.
The garden was silent for a long moment then, save for the thud of Max’s boots. Aurelia narrowed her eyes on him as he made his way back up to the balcony. He laughed lightly, looking bemused as he straightened his rumpled jacket, coming abreast of her.
“You laugh? You’re repellent,” she whispered.
His blue-gray eyes settled on her, and the frost there chilled her. “Ah, high praise from you,” Max mocked. “Am I not worse? Perhaps rat droppings?”
She squared her shoulders. “Oh, I just assumed that comparison tacit.”
“Ari,” Declan chided, obviously hearing their exchange as he joined them.
“Don’t ‘Ari’ me.” She looked swiftly to her cousin before looking back at Max. “You have your pick of women and yet you choose to dally with a married lady.”
“Haven’t you something else to do besides stick your nose in my life?”
“Perhaps you should stop dragging your life into the middle of my drawing room,” she bit back.
“Enough,” Dec snapped. “I grow tired of you two bickering. Is it not enough that we had to break up a brawl at a dinner party where Will and Violet just announced their happy news? That shall be a memory for them to cherish, won’t it?”
Max looked suitably reprimanded. His lips flattened into a hard line.