All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(20)

            His parents had been that way. His father had often chased his mother into their bedchamber, their laughter ringing down the corridor for all to hear. At the time, such love seemed a beautiful thing, if not slightly embarrassing. For the most part, though . . . it had been beautiful. Those were happy times. He and his sister felt lucky having parents so happy and in love. Life had been good. Rich and full of color. Until the accident, and then that love became dangerous. Killing the weak. Robbing his world of color and painting it in strokes of gray.

            Max learned from his father’s mistake. Love made one weak. It was a serpent in the grass, ready to strike when one was vulnerable. He would not be like his father and give himself so wholly to a woman. That path led to destruction. And why should he change his ways? He was perfectly content with things as they were now. There was simplicity in his existence. Freedom. No responsibility. No duty to anyone except himself.

            Will’s office was unchanged since his marriage. It was still masculine, with dark tones and rich colors. Max felt the most comfortable in this room. His entire town house was outfitted in much the same manner. Dark woods. Dark drapes. Functional.

            “What is this, boys?” Max demanded lightly, falling back on the leather sofa. “Your wives have no need of you tonight?”

            It was a jab, to be certain, and he didn’t know why he’d said it. He supported his friends. He wanted them happy. He was fond of their wives and wished them only well. He’d even been instrumental in Will and Violet’s union          .

            “At the moment, our most pressing concern is you,” Declan answered evenly, crossing his arms over his chest.

            “Is it? That’s kind of you, but I’ll be fine.” He worked his jaw gingerly and tested the tender flesh of his lips with his fingertips. “Nothing that won’t heal.” He might very well bruise. Who knew Arlington had it in him? The nobleman spent more time at the gaming hells than in the company of his young bride. A sore point for Lady Opheila—and one she had complained about frequently. Not just to Max, but to anyone within her sphere.

            Max did not often dally with married ladies. There were plenty of other willing females. Widows, maids, independent females that did not bow to Society’s rules. But Lady Arlington had been lovely and ripe for the picking . . . and most insistent that she be picked.

            He smiled, and winced at the motion. Lightly prodding his aching face, he crossed his booted ankles and stretched his legs out before him. His friends gazed at him like a morose pair of monks. “You’re staring at me like I’m the recalcitrant child and you both the stern parents.”

            “Then I suggest you heed us as you would a set of parents. It’s time for you to grow up, Max.”

            He blinked at Will’s clipped words. He resisted the urge to reply that he was quite grown up. That he had been grown up ever since he was eleven years old and his mother and sister died. Ever since his father, crazed with grief, put a bullet in his head. The loss of his mother and sister had been tragedy enough, but walking into his father’s bedchamber and finding him in a pool of blood and brain matter, his pistol still smoking next to him, had effectively killed what remained of his childhood.

            He said nothing, however. He never spoke of that time—that day. Not even to his closet friends. It was enough that they knew his father took his life. All of the ton knew that, and looked at him as though he were somehow tainted. Those who had known his father saw him every time they looked at him. Max knew he was the mirror image of the man. Everyone saw Lord Kenneth Camden when they looked at him, and they wondered if he was equally fragile, if he would one day cave and surrender to weakness, crumble in the face of loss and adversity.

            Max saw that question in their eyes—even now, when he worked so hard to distance himself from the specter of his father and to live a life as differently as possible.

            He maintained his relaxed pose, but responded with an edge to his voice. “Grow up, hm? And I suppose marriage is the way to accomplish that? What? You’ve both gotten yourselves leg-shackled and now you expect me to as well?”