All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(42)

            There was no mistaking her meaning. It was what he thought he wanted from her. He slipped his hand free and moved to untether his mount from the back of her carriage. She watched him, her eyes narrowing in clear affront.

            “I appreciate the kind offer, but I could not impose on you. Recently widowed . . . you’re too vulnerable. And I must think to your reputation.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

            From her bewildered expression, she did not believe he cared one whit for her reputation. “This opportunity, my lord,” she said tightly, “will never come again.”

            He shrugged lightly, still smiling. “I will suffer the regret.”

            Her lips compressed into a hard line. She leaned back in her carriage and called for her driver to move.

            Max did not linger. As far as he was concerned, he had already dallied too long. He mounted in one smooth motion and turned in the direction of the Merlton town house. Digging his heels in, he set off at a gallop across the park.





            Chapter 11

            Aurelia knew there was a good chance he would come after her.

            She felt hunted. The gate clanged behind her, reverberating on the afternoon air. Her lungs burned with labored breath as she hurried down the path, just short of a run. Dignity held her in check . . . as well as sheer stubbornness. She’d done nothing wrong. It was an accident. Only the guilty ran.

            Heat flushed her face at the half-truth. Very well, she had been somewhat in error. She had, in fact, pushed him. But that was only after he insulted her. And her intention had never been for the Widow Knotgrass to fall into the pond. That part was purely accidental—no matter how satisfying it had been. A snort escaped her that bordered on laughter. She had, admittedly, for one fraction of a moment, enjoyed seeing Widow Knotgrass emerge looking like a drowned cat. She sobered, forcing her amusement down. There would be time enough for laughter when this day’s events were well and fully behind her. Only from the glimpse she’d had of Max’s face, it would not be for another five years.

            She shook her head lightly at the exaggeration. Max’s wrath would cool. In time. Just as it had when she divested him of his garments in that card game at Sodom. His ire had cooled over that. He’d eventually get over this, too.

            She sidestepped a maid walking down the path, nodding a greeting and hoping she didn’t look as frazzled as she felt. She need only escape to the sanctuary of her bedchamber.

            The back entrance of the house appeared and she bypassed it, deciding to ignore it in favor of the servants’ door a little farther around the back. That entrance saw less traffic, and she wouldn’t risk bumping into Mama or Violet. They would only want to chatter and delay any escape into her room.

            She knew she was being silly. It’s not as though he would give chase straightaway. He still had Widow Knotgrass to escort. And yet, the fierce look in his eyes had made her shiver.

            She took comfort in the knowledge that he would arrive via the front door, and then her comfort dissolved. How would he explain his very wet and disheveled person? That would invite questions. Questions like how did he get wet . . .

            Dear God. What if he told Mama? Or Will?

            She shook her head. No. He wouldn’t. If he wouldn’t divulge her night activities at Sodom or that she was the artist responsible for the caricatures popping up all around London, he wouldn’t report on her now. At least, she prayed he wouldn’t.

            Aurelia forced in a calming breath. By the time Max called she would be safe in her bedchamber. Cecily will have been coached by then, armed with excuses as to why she was unavailable. He’d know the excuses were lies, of course, but she didn’t care.

            War called for different rules.