All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(40)
Her stomach knotted. He looked severe—frightening—as he pointed a finger at her and curled it, beckoning her closer.
She shook her head, her stomach coiling sickly. It was an accident, she mouthed at him, pleading with her eyes.
His eyes narrowed on her. She felt the chill of them across the short distance. She had never seen him look like this before. Not even when they quarreled and she irked him. He took a step toward her and then stopped when the widow started wailing for him, motioning for him to return to her. With one last look at Aurelia that promised retribution, he turned his back on her.
A relieved breath shuddered from her. She never thought she would feel gratitude toward Mrs. Knotgrass for anything, but in that moment she could have hugged her. It would be short-lived, she knew. She had seen Max’s face. He wasn’t finished with her.
Swinging her satchel across her shoulder, she started for home with no thought to dignity.
She ran.
Chapter 10
He would throttle her.
It was Max’s sole thought as he trudged up the hill, his feet squishing in his soaked boots as he escorted the widow across the park to her waiting curricle.
She wept the entire way. And no small, delicate feminine weeping either. She wailed like a lowing cow, exclaiming over the state of her appearance, drawing all eyes their way. He resisted the impulse to shush her. She was embarrassed over what had transpired, to be certain, but her howling only attracted more attention.
He told himself he should not be so surprised. He knew Aurelia was capable of outrageous behavior. It was clear that she wanted him to think it was an accident. Ha! She wanted to punish him for burning her drawing. Even without that discord between them, she would go to any lengths to annoy and pester him. He could almost excuse her for this—he was accustomed to their skirmishes, after all—but the Widow Knotgrass had been innocent in their little war.
Innocent? She had not exactly kept her claws in check with Aurelia. He winced as he cast her a glance. She was murdering his ears with all her caterwauling. His perception of her as an enticing, soft-spoken lady was now shattered.
The maid trotted behind them, holding the widow’s discarded parasol and pieces of her lost hair. Max tried not to look at the mangled chunks of hair that resembled slaughtered rodents, but he couldn’t help his lip from curling. Again his thoughts returned to Aurelia and the ear-blistering he would give her when he caught up to her. It was bad enough she was the reason he had sought out the widow in the first place. He’d thought a good tupping might take his mind off Aurelia and her stupid quest for a husband. He thought it might help him forget the devastated look on her face when he flung that scroll into the fire. At the very least he would exorcise his lusts so he would stop getting so inconveniently aroused in Aurelia’s company. At least that had been his reasoning.
“My lord, you’re hurting me,” Widow Knotgrass complained, tugging on her arm.
“My apologies.” He quickly loosened his grip.
She sniffed, looking mollified. “And you’re walking much too fast. I cannot keep up.”
He sucked in a breath, reaching deep inside himself for patience as he slowed his pace to a crawl. Aurelia was likely fleeing for home already. From the one glimpse he’d had of her face—her wide eyes and sagging mouth—he knew she was afraid of him. And rightly so. His jaw clenched. He was not finished with her. Not by any means. He merely needed to free himself of the weeping woman at his side so that he could track down his quarry before she locked herself in her bedchamber and hid from him for the remainder of the Season.
She’d have to come out eventually, he assured himself. She was intent on winning a husband, after all. For some reason, this only made his mood darker. His free hand flexed at his side in anticipation of unleashing his ire on her.