“A dinner party?” His nape prickled, even though a dinner party sounded innocent enough. It was the woman’s manner. The hesitation in her voice.
He knew Aurelia had ventured out before. She had called on her family, as well as Rosalie and Violet, of course. She often took tea with her mother, who would be leaving for Scotland soon.
“What dinner party?” he demanded. “Whose?”
Sighing, Cecily lifted her gaze and faced him, grim acceptance in her eyes. He knew the answer then. She didn’t need to say it. He could read it all over her face.
He was beside himself with fury. He had expressly told her not to attend, and she had anyway. He would settle this once and for all. He wasn’t a caveman. He simply did not trust Mackenzie . . . nor did he like the man knowing any of their secrets. And Aurelia frequenting Sodom’s was very much a secret. One word would fan the rumor mills and she could be ruined. It pained him to think of Aurelia subjected to Society’s cruel judgments. He’d spare her that. Even if meant he had to suffer through a dinner party and endure the likes of Mackenzie eyeing his wife as though he would like to get a glimpse beneath her skirts.
An uncomfortable hardness rose in his trousers at the thought of Aurelia naked. She was magnificent. Her body was lush and sweet and as tempting as Botticelli’s Venus. That dark hair . . . those ripe breasts. Groaning, he shifting himself, trying to restrain his cock. How could he keep his hands off her now that he knew how truly brilliant it could be between them?
Without a word, he spun around and strode from the room, knowing exactly where he could find her.
Chapter 22
The gentle hum of conversation mingled with the chords of a pianoforte and a gentleman’s drifting baritone. Aurelia sat very straight upon her chair, telling herself to relax. Venturing out from the house, beyond the comfort of her close circle of family, was good for her. She couldn’t cloister herself away forever.
The evening hadn’t been so bad. The food was delicious. Even the company had been pleasing. It was good for her. At least that’s what she continued to tell herself. Getting out of her comfort zone and engaging with Society. Taking her mind off the shambles of her life.
Struan Mackenzie’s Mayfair mansion was the height of opulence. The dinner had been no less lavish, a meal fit for the Queen consisting of too many courses to count. The finest food and drink for a couple dozen guests, all titled. All of whom she knew either in name or acquaintance. Clearly the gentleman was all about making connections in the highest echelons of Society. There were at least three marriageable young ladies present, all of whom cast admiring glances his way. She had no doubt he would soon find himself a bride to his liking.
The young ladies in attendance were actually kind to her. That was a novel experience she credited to the fact that she was married now and not a threat to their prospects with Mackenzie. They were no longer competing. And he was clearly the catch they were all vying for.
“I’m sorry that Lord Camden couldn’t attend tonight.”
With a fixed smile, she looked away from the young lady playing the pianoforte to Struan Mackenzie as he stepped beside her. “He was most sorry to miss it as well,” she managed to say without choking on the lie.
Mr. Mackenzie stared at her overly long, and she was almost certain he sensed the falsehood . . . that he knew Max knew nothing about her being here tonight.
“I confess I am a little surprised to be included in your dinner party, Mr. Mackenzie.”
“And why is that?”
She shrugged lightly. “You could have invited an eligible young lady rather than me.” That would have better served his interest.
He smiled slowly, his teeth a blinding flash of white against his golden skin. “I invited you and your husband because I find you both interesting.”