All the Ways to Ruin a Rogue

by Sophie Jordan

  “Plans change,” Will bit off tersely.

  “No.” She looked at Max. “Tell him.”

  Max stared at her for a long moment before facing Will again. “I shall start the process of acquiring a special license.”

  Her lungs swelled with a ragged breath.

  Will nodded once. “And I shall go explain to my mother why Aurelia is not going to have the monstrous church wedding she always dreamed of.” He sent Aurelia a chagrined look. “That shall be your cross to bear, sister.”

  Aurelia’s thoughts spun. Her eyes traveled over the three of them. “Has everyone in this room gone mad?”

  Will sighed. Violet rubbed her shoulder in that comforting manner of hers and murmured her name like she was a child who failed to understand. Which wouldn’t be an unfair estimate. She did not understand. She didn’t understand why she and Max must marry when no one beyond the four of them need ever know what transpired in this room.

  “Would you give us a few moments alone?” Max asked.

  Will looked ready to object, but Violet approached his side and took his hand. “A few minutes won’t do any harm.”

  At the door, Will sent them each a warning look that seemed to say: Keep your clothes on.

  When the door clicked shut behind them, Aurelia spun on Max, the words spilling from her in a burning rush, “You don’t have to—”

  “Don’t I?” he retorted.

  “I most assuredly won’t force you.”

  “You don’t have to force me, Aurelia. It’s what we must do. I realize that. Don’t you?”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Who knows this even happened? My brother and Violet? Maybe he tells my mother. Perhaps. We don’t even know—”

  “It’s enough that they know. I respect them. It’s important they respect me. I am only sorry . . . for you. This marriage . . . it can’t be what you had dreamed for yourself, Aurelia. I am sorry for that.”

  That’s right. She recalled again that he had warned her. He wasn’t made for marriage. “I’ll be fine,” she promised, but in that moment she wasn’t certain if she was promising this to him or herself.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered miserably, giving him another chance, hoping desperately he would say it wasn’t just because of her family. That it was more than that. That marriage to her held some appeal.

  “Do you truly think I would not wed you? After your brother discovered us in such a compromising position?”

  It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. Her opinion bore little significance to him—she bore little—even though it was she he would be marrying and not Will.

  “It’s the right thing to do,” he added, sounding so very sanctimonious she wanted to lash out and hit something.

  “And you’re all about doing the right thing,” she muttered, trying to hide her hurt feelings. Why did he have to be so noble?

  “I don’t know what you’re so upset about.”

  “Oh, I should be grateful I suppose. I’ve snared the ever elusive Viscount Camden.”

  He nodded fiercely, dragging a hand through his hair and sending the dark locks flying in every direction. “You’ve already proclaimed you need a husband. What difference does it make—”

  “Indeed,” she said tightly, striking out, wanting to harm him like his words hurt her. “I want to marry. That had been my goal. Only I did not want to marry you.”

  “Don’t you? Weren’t you just panting in my ear and rubbing my cock? I seem to recollect you begging for it.”

  He wanted to shock her with his harsh language. She lifted her chin and clung to her composure. “That was something else. Something . . .” her words drifted. She wasn’t able to put a name to it. Swallowing against the lump forming in her throat, she lifted her chin and tried again. “It wasn’t me wanting to marry you.”

  “Indeed. Sex and marriage are not mutually inclusive. But have no fear, there will be at least one benefit to this . . .”

  “Mistake,” she supplied smoothly into his pause, arching an eyebrow. “Is that the word you’re searching for?” She walked backward several paces. “You mean ‘mistake.’ Us. Getting married. It would be a mistake.”

  He shrugged. “So it’s not what I would have planned . . .” His voice faded and his eyes clouded. It wasn’t even as though he was looking at her anymore, but something else. Somewhere else. “We shall make the best of it. And I shall at least be the mistake you can readily avail yourself of any time you choose.”

  Of all the arrogant . . .

  She shook her head. “You don’t want a marriage. You don’t want a wife.”

  He stared at her, and his silence was all the confirmation she needed, and yet still a bitter thing to swallow.

  “Nothing need change. If we must marry, don’t let a wife alter your life.”

  He laughed then. “You jest.”

  “Not at all.” She nodded. “Lead your life as you always do.”

  His eye narrowed. “You think such a thing possible?”

  “You shall have your freedom. I shall have mine. It seems idyllic enough to me.”

  “Yes. It seems so.” He considered for a weighty moment. “Why not?”

  She nodded again as if a simple matter of business had been resolved and not the whole course of her life. “I should leave you now. You have a special license to look into procuring.”

  Without waiting for his reply, she spun and departed the room.

  Chapter 18

  “You looked beautiful today.”

  Aurelia looked up and met her mother’s gaze in her vanity mirror, offering her a shaky smile in response to the compliment. Cecily unpinned the last curl and set to brushing the mass of crackling dark hair.

  “You’re certain you were not disappointed, Mama? I know you dreamed of a large wedding.”

  Her mother smiled whimsically. “I did, but my greatest dream has been for both my children to be happy. Will found that happiness with Violet.” She stopped behind her and set her hands to Aurelia’s shoulders. “And now you’ve found it with dear Maxim. Nothing brings me greater joy. Not even a grand St. James wedding could give me such bliss.”

  Aurelia returned her mother’s smile, wincing inwardly at how her own lips wobbled. Fortunately, Mama did not appear to notice. Instead, she had turned to survey the rather somber and colorless bedchamber. The room that was to be permanently hers as of this very day.

  “It’s a lovely room,” Mama lied. Her mother’s tastes ran to colors and frills. There was none of that in this chamber. None of that in this house, for that matter. She gestured to the midnight dark drapes in what was to be her new bedchamber. “Perhaps start with those. A lighter colored counterpane next. More pillows perhaps. I’m certain Aunt Daphne can knit you some. Once you finish in here, you can add more sconces in the halls. A bigger chandelier in the foyer, certainly. It’s much too dreary when you first enter the house.” She clapped her hands merrily and fairly bounced on her feet. She looked years younger in that moment. “But then, there is no bottom to Max’s pockets. You should not limit yourselves to drapes, although it is a fine starting place.”

  Hands propped on her hips, Mama circled the room assessingly.

  Cecily slid Aurelia a knowing look before glancing at the clock on the mantel and clearing her throat. “Lady Merlton,” she said. “It grows late.”

  Mama swung her gaze to the clock and then back to Aurelia. “Oh, indeed, indeed! The time has gotten away with me. We shall discuss remodeling later.”

  Aurelia opened her mouth to object, to insist that they discuss those renovations now. Anything to delay the inevitable.

  Mama pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, gently cupping her face with both hands. “Now I would normally choose this moment to leave you with some parting advice on what to expect in your marital bed, but I’m well aware
that you’ve been reading the medical texts in the library for years.”

  Aurelia’s mouth sagged. She knew?

  Mama continued. “If there is anything you would like to ask me, just go ahead, my dear. I will endeavor to answer you.”

  Heat crept up her face. She was not having this conversation with her mother. She shook her head fiercely. “No, thank you, Mama. I think I know what to expect.”

  Mama nodded and patted her cheek again. “Very good. Now call on me when you’re ready and we shall go shopping. I don’t want to interrupt your honeymoon.”

  Honeymoon? She and Max weren’t even going anywhere. Could that be termed a honeymoon?

  Cecily gave her a quick hug, whispering into her ear, “I’m so very happy for you. I know all will be well. You will see.”

  She offered her friend what she hoped was a heartening smile. It was a far cry from how she really felt. “I’m sure you are right.”

  Cecily pulled back and laughed lightly. “You’re a terrible liar, but you will see. I’m always right. I have an instinct about these things.”

  That said, she slipped from the room fast on Mama’s heels. The door clicked shut behind them and Aurelia found herself alone in a suddenly echoing silence. She surveyed her new bedchamber. It was a rather grim place. Colorless. Her white nightgown might be the only thing that wasn’t drab.

  She moved her gaze to the adjoining door. For several moments she watched it. As though it were about to perform some grand trick—such as open. Several moments passed without the door opening. Without a whisper of sound from the other side. Did she think he was waiting for her mother and Cecily to leave to pounce on her?

  She paced the length of the massive room. She felt very small and lonely in its great space. The shadows seemed to stretch toward her like long fingers. She missed her old room. Even if it wasn’t her room anymore. Not her home. It was Will’s and Violet’s home. This place. This was her home now.

  He had changed his mind.

  That was the sole thought burning through her. He had changed his mind and would come to her tonight. He didn’t mean the words he had said that night in the library when they had been forced into this marriage. He would certainly want to claim his husbandly rights. Would not any gentleman do as much?

  She bit her lip, pacing the chamber, knotting the fine fabric of her nightgown in her hands. Mama had insisted on new bedclothes. Max could afford it, she insisted. Aurelia had not possessed the will to argue. Her head had been too busy, too full of thoughts and bewilderment over the fact that she was marrying Max.

  She was Lady Camden now. No longer a burden to her brother and mother.

  Max’s wife. In name only. At least that was what he had promised.

  You wanted it this way.

  She stopped pacing and squared her shoulders. That’s right. He’d said they were a mistake. This marriage would be a mistake. How could she let him in her bed knowing that was how he felt? She would not let him use her. Even if she was his wife and it was his right, his due as her husband.

  She stared out the window through the parted drapes. It was late. The night pressed against the mullioned panes, thick and dark as smoke.

  He wasn’t coming. He had to know Mama and Cecily had left her by now. All the rest of the guests had long since departed. He simply wasn’t coming. She moved to the adjoining door and pressed her ear flat to it. She thought she heard a faint sound from within, but who knew if it was Max or his valet.

  Sighing, disgusted with herself, she made her way for the enormous four-post bed. It was hard to miss, even in the dark.

  With fresh resolve, she slid beneath the counterpane that Cecily had pulled back for her. Closing her eyes, she rolled onto her side and tried to sleep. Tried to tell herself that she didn’t care. That she didn’t long for her husband.

  That a name-in-only marriage would be enough for her.

  She would not wait up for him. After all, she was not certain she wanted this marriage consummated. It felt so false when she knew he had not wanted to marry her. Could she open her bed to him, her body, knowing he regretted taking her to wife? She had seen that glaring truth in his eyes as they made their vows.

  She tugged the heavy counterpane higher on her shoulders and rolled onto her side, determined not to wait up like a puppy anxious for the return of its master. Darkness swirled around her, and the chamber hummed as thick and silent as a tomb.

  This was her life. Alone in this great bed. In this great, empty mausoleum. At least until she decided to add a few flourishes and modify it to suit her, but even then it would all still belong to Max. She would simply be a stranger living here for perpetuity. Unwelcome and unwanted. He had made certain she understood that.

  Her eyes ached from staring into the dark for so long. She closed them, easing their ache, but convinced she would never relax. Never sleep.

  Until she slipped into slumber.

  “I suppose I should be angry. I’ve tried to be angry with you. All week I’ve reminded myself again and again that you dallied with my sister.” Will stopped to shudder and then sighed. “And yet I’m not.”

  Max lifted his gaze from his glass at this declaration from his friend, uncertain how to respond. The week had been awkward. A whirlwind of activity leading up to a wedding that had felt farcical despite its utter gravity.

  He had seen Aurelia not at all until the ceremony today, and then she had not even met his gaze during the exchanging of vows. Not until the very end. Until the moment they were pronounced man and wife and the noose he had spent all his life avoiding settled firmly around his neck.

  “Er. Thank you?” he offered.

  Will nodded. “Once the anger faded, I came to realize that you and Aurelia make sense.”

  Max’s eyes widened. “We do?”

  Other than how Aurelia felt in his arms—ardent and responsive to his every touch—there was nothing about either one of them that made much sense.

  Thankfully, the ceremony had been brief. They all had agreed to his suggestion of a small service. They’d wed at St. Dominic’s, a quaint church he walked by almost every day. Sometimes he would stop and chat with the kindly reverend who officiated there. Reverend Williams had only been too happy to oversee the ceremony.

  Max winced. He supposed there was no real mystery as to why the Merlton clan had so readily agreed to a hasty marriage. His insistence that they arrange a quick ceremony with little fanfare had spelled only one thing in their minds.

  They thought he had ruined Aurelia.

  Because that’s what he did. What he was good at doing. He ruined things. Since he lost his family, he had set out to ruin himself. To make himself unfit for any good woman, so that he would never be struck down by the affliction that was love.

  He had to admit there had been good women he’d taken to his bed. Women he hurt. Women who offered him their hearts, and he had refused them all like so many unworthy objects.

  Will had probably begun counting the days until Aurelia began increasing with child.

  That thought chilled him. The idea of being a father was a bloody terrifying thing. Of course, the making of that child had been a fantasy for him for weeks now. Perhaps even longer. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his tightening neck.

  In the far back of his mind he had always gravitated toward Aurelia. He told himself it was because her caustic wit amused him, but what sane man subjected himself to such abuse if he wasn’t a little aroused by the woman serving such abuse?

  A child would be the end of him. He would not be able to withhold himself. He would love a child. His child. His and Aurelia’s. He dragged his hand around to his face, covering his eyes for a moment. That couldn’t happen. Ever.

  He realized that Will was still staring at him, waiting for him to say something to his comment about him and Aurelia making sense together.

 
; “It’s kind of you to say.”

  “There’s nothing kind about it.”

  Max winced, imagining a scenario where he was in Will’s shoes. If he had caught someone trifling with his sister. Julia had only been seven years old when she left this world. Still an angel in his memories. She’d never had the opportunity to grow up, but he could not imagine reacting with similar tolerance to any man, friend or not, who dallied with her. Just further evidence that Will was a far better man than him. “I don’t know if I could be so understanding.”

  “Well. Initially, I was angry.” Will laughed darkly. “Yes. I’ll not lie on that score. But I thought about it long and well. And Violet . . . well, my wife helped shed light on matters, too. What we all witnessed these many years and assumed was animosity—” He gestured to himself and Dec, who sat near the fire, as though speaking for the both of them. “Well, Violet viewed it differently. Perhaps with more objectivity since she only recently entered into the family.”

  “Oh? And how did she view me and Aurelia?” Max lifted his glass to his lips for a drink.

  “All the bickering and squabbling . . . it was . . . you both were . . . well, in a manner . . . flirting and seducing each other, as much as it pains me to say it.” He winced.

  Max coughed as the fiery burn of brandy went down the wrong pipe. Will moved to clap him on the back. He focused tearing eyes on his friend. “That’s certainly an interesting theory.”

  “What I’m saying is that you have my blessing, Max. You and Aurelia . . . have my blessing.”

  Will’s blessing. He didn’t deserve it. If he could promise that he was going to make Aurelia happy . . . then, yes. He would perhaps not feel the utter cad sitting before Will. He’d just wed his sister with no intention of making her a wife in truth. He had no intention of being a real husband to her. He would not make Aurelia happy. He knew that. Whatever happiness she found would be at her own instigation. That’s what leading separate lives would entail. He leading his life. She leading hers. Separately.

  He inhaled a breath that felt too heavy, too blistering for his lungs to hold. It would be a sham of a marriage. Aurelia had laid the groundwork. They would be married, but in name only.