A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin_The Debutante Files

He waved a hand idly. “Here? It never really matters.”

She couldn’t help the stab of disappointment. She knew Dec was a rake. Perhaps she wanted to think that she—an anonymous female who had come here for a first kiss—would mean something to him. She wanted it to matter. She wanted to be different for him.

She couldn’t imagine ever having a liaison with anyone and it not mattering, but he did it all the time. And yet buried beneath her disappointment was curiosity. The same curiosity that had led her here in the first place. She wanted to know what all the fuss was about. She wanted more. That’s what she had told Aunt Peregrine. She might not be able to find it in marriage, but could she not find a taste of adventure? Passion?

She didn’t want merely a kiss. She wanted a kiss that she would never forget.

Sliding her hand from his arm, she stepped back. She glanced down the corridor and pointed to a door. “This looks like the one. I believe my friend is in this room.”

He smiled, but there was a grim set to his lips, as if he understood. This was good-bye. “Don’t come back here.”

“I won’t.” Turning, she moved toward the door, feeling his gaze on the back of her dress, and she knew he would wait until she was safely in the company of her friend. Her hand dropped to the latch. Turning, she pushed it open and peered inside. The room was empty. A quick glance at the window revealed the same couple still preoccupied on the bed in the adjoining room. But no Aurelia.

Frowning, she stepped back out into the corridor.

Dec approached. “Your friend?”

“She’s not there.”

“She likely moved on to other diversions. There’s much to see and do in the house.”

She nodded, beginning to feel the stirrings of concern. She hoped Aurelia was all right.

“No worry,” he murmured, plucking her hand and dropping it back on his arm, no doubt sensing her concern. “We’ll locate her. Or Mrs. Bancroft. Surely she knows where your friend is. She knows the comings and goings of everything in Sodom.”

They didn’t move right away. It was as though a string stretched between them, keeping them connected. Keeping them from stepping too far from each other.

“Never been kissed?” he mused, clearly in no hurry to sever the string. “Interesting. You can’t be married, then?”

She laughed lightly, nervously, touching her domino, making certain it was still in place. “Of course not. I wouldn’t be here if I were married, would I?”

His smile was slow and sensuous. Amusement was etched in the well-carved line of his bottom lip. “You think that so absurd? That a married lady would frequent this place? You really have strayed from the flock, haven’t you? How did you even hear of a place such as this?”

“Rest assured, it was quite by accident.” She thought of Aurelia, imagining his expression if she happened to inform him that his cousin was the one responsible for her presence here.

“A happy accident, then. For me.”

“Is it? Even though I’ve changed my mind and wasted your time? You could be with a more willing female right now.”

His gaze skimmed her, a physical touch. “None nearly as interesting as you.”

“Are you complimenting me because you think it will win my favor?” A coy smile lifted her lips. “I’m certain a gentleman . . . a nobleman, no less . . . who looks as you do can have anyone he wants.” She waved a hand at him.

He leaned in, propping a hand on the wall above her shoulder. His body pressed close but stopped just short of meeting hers. And yet his warmth radiated, reaching her, touching her in spots that she never even knew could feel sensation. She inhaled. God, he smelled good. Like clean man and something else that was entirely him, imprinted on his skin. Wind and salt and heat. “It’s not always ‘anyone’ that I want,” he whispered, his warm breath sending a rush of goose bumps across her arms.

“Oh.” The single word escaped her in a breath. He was good. Heat swallowed her face. “Me?” She shook her head. Swallowing, she whispered, “You can’t . . . You don’t—”

“I want the one who isn’t so easily affected. By my title. By pretty words. Like you, yes.” He considered her for a moment, his gaze roving over her bare shoulders, the swells of her breasts. She sucked in a breath, remembering how very nearly transparent the bodice was. The action forced her breasts higher against the thin bodice and his eyes darkened. “I’m going to hazard a guess that you’re surrounded by nobility. Only that explains why you are so unimpressed. Your father perhaps? Is he titled?” At her silence, he shrugged. “Keep your secrets. If it makes you feel comfortable.”

Oh, her secrets didn’t make her comfortable . . . they made her a wreck of nerves.

They proceeded back down the hall in the direction of the stairs. She heard them before she rounded the corner, spotting the boisterous group of men and women hovering in the threshold of a room.

Dec gestured. “Perhaps your friend . . .”

Rosalie scanned the gathering. “I don’t see her among the spectators.”

They stepped closer and Rosalie peered between the bodies to the scene within the chamber.

“Oh,” she choked as she spied four people sprawled in the middle of a massive bed. A man was spread out naked in the center. Three equally unclothed women hovered over him, kissing him . . . everywhere. One even kissed him directly on his—

With an inarticulate sound, Rosalie whirled past the crowd and ran blindly down the hall. Mortified and feeling decidedly . . . overheated, she rounded yet another corner.

She heard his voice behind her, calling her to wait, but she didn’t stop. She had to flee from the shocking display she’d witnessed. From how it made her feel. And perhaps, most importantly, from him.

She was almost to the stairs when he caught up with her. His hand came down on her arm and yanked her back around. “Where are you going?”

She shook her head. “I should never have come to this place. I’m sure you think me foolish and irrational—”

He cut her off with a swift shake of his head. “I think you’re a girl far out of her ilk here. Nothing more.”

A girl. Indeed. A girl on the brink of marriage whether she liked it or not. She had insisted on choosing, but what would her choices be? She gulped with the bitterness of that realization. Choice was an illusion. She had no choice and little control.

Of course the irony wasn’t lost on her that the man standing before her happened to be the one pushing her into marriage. The one controlling her fate.

And yet she didn’t want to be that girl. A girl led. A girl without choice. She wanted to be in control even if it was fleeting.

Even if only for one kiss.

His dark eyes flicked back and forth over her face as if awaiting her response. She could not fathom what he saw. It could not be much in the dim light of the hall. With over half her face hidden by a domino and framed in the black wig, he could not see much. Just her eyes peered out, drinking in the sight of him.

“What are you thinking?” she whispered.

“That you need to go home and forget about this place.” He lifted a hand, and she held still, resisting the instinct to pull away. He brushed one of the tendrils of hair that fell across her shoulder. “Forget me.”

Impossible. She held herself still for a moment, savoring his hand on her hair, the heat radiating from his body, so close to her own. This. It was supposed to be like this between a man and woman.