A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin_The Debutante Files

“I cannot sleep down here. What would the servants think if they discovered me? Your Aunt Peregrine? It would not be seemly.”

He stopped before her. One stride separated them. “I thought we agreed this is your home. Do you not feel comfortable here?”

“I do.” She nodded vigorously. “It’s only that it is not only my home. It’s yours, too. I cannot simply spend the night on the sofa.”

“So proper,” he mused, brushing the hair back off her shoulder.

Her breath caught. Everything inside her jumped and reacted to that small touch.

His eyes locked on her face. Several moments passed before he murmured, “Who would have ever thought? It’s a marvel to me.”

“What is?”

“That you are your mother’s daughter.”

Nothing he said could have turned her blood cold faster. It always seemed to go back to her mother. He hated her so much. She lowered her gaze, seemingly finding the pattern in the rug of utter fascination.

“So innocent,” he murmured, placing a finger beneath her chin and tipping her face up.

She thought of Sodom and what had transpired there. Heat swamped her face. Between them. She was not wholly innocent.

“I’m not . . .” She stopped, her voice fading. Was she actually arguing with him about her state of innocence? Brilliant, Rosalie.

His lips quirked. “Not so innocent? I think you are. Or did Strickland manage to steal a kiss.” He was mocking her now, and that only pricked her temper.

“No. Not Strickland,” she blurted.

His smile slipped, not missing the emphasis she placed on her words. “No? Someone else, then?” He stepped closer and closed his hands around her shoulders. Suddenly he wasn’t smiling. “Did Horley—”

“No!” She shook her head. “No! I’m merely trying to say that I’m not such the innocent. I’m not that little girl that tagged after you like some sad puppy all those years ago.”

“I never thought of you that way.”

“Indeed?” The idea that he had thought of her at all inordinately pleased her. More than it should have.

His gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth then. It was disconcerting. Her breathing grew shallow, her chest tight and almost pained. He couldn’t be considering kissing her. It was absurd. She was his charge. His stepsister. She might have looked at him with stars in her eyes for years, but he had never looked at her that way. If he even looked at her.

He certainly wouldn’t be looking at her that way now.

She held herself still, achingly conscious of how close they stood. It was familiar and strange all at once. They weren’t at Sodom. She wore no mask. He was gazing at her. Her. Rosalie. Just as she had fantasized.

He leaned his head down a fraction, and then stopped hard, his mouth hovering over hers. His eyes were so close she could see the dark ring around the green depths.

“Rosalie?” Her name was just a breath fanning against her lips.

“Yes?” Her voice was warbled and hoarse. She swallowed, attempting to regain sound.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

She inhaled. There was no mistaking his intention. Despite who they were to each other, he was going to kiss her. She nodded once, reeling at the declaration.

She felt elated and angered simultaneously. What about her? The other her! Obviously the girl from Sodom was forgotten. Obviously she meant nothing as he was ready to kiss someone else. It was madness, she knew, but she still felt betrayed. And also thrilled. Yes, it was illogical. She was jealous of herself.

All this considered, she didn’t command him to stop. She didn’t try to duck or push him away. His head dipped and his mouth slanted over hers with unexpected gentleness. His warm lips teased at hers, exerting only the slightest pressure.

Not at all what she was used to from him. He hadn’t kissed her like that at Sodom. At least not beyond that first touch of his mouth. By the end his kisses had been raw and consuming. Fierce. His mouth had claimed and ravaged hers. She wanted that again. She ached for it.

And it was aggravating. She’d already had her first kiss from him. She wanted more. She wanted what she knew it could be. With a moan, she dropped the book she clutched and grabbed his head, spearing her fingers through the thick strands of his hair, tugging him down even as she stood on her tiptoes and arched against him. Anything to get closer. To have more.

She nipped at his bottom lip and then licked at the seam of his mouth just as he had taught her, seeking entrance. He groaned his approval, and she took advantage of his open mouth, thrusting her tongue inside, searching for his, needing to taste him.

His hands stole around to clutch her back, pulling her even closer. She could actually feel the thump of his heart in his hard chest.

He sucked on her tongue and she moaned, fingers tightening in his hair. He shuddered, his hands sliding down her shoulders to grasp her arms.

Suddenly, he wrenched her from him and held her at arm’s length.

His gaze blistered her. “Rosalie,” he gasped.

Panting, she nodded and made another dive for his mouth, but he kept her at a distance, his hands firm on her arms. “You.”

She didn’t understand. She strained toward him, but he held her at arm’s length. Her body was alive and humming. She couldn’t think at all. There was only feeling. She could scarcely register him.

“It’s you.”

Something in his voice made her freeze and stop pulling against his hands. His gaze skimmed her. All of her. Missing nothing. From the top of her head to her bare feet peeping out from her hem. His gaze came to a stop on her hair, lingering over the loosened mass, and she realized with some dread that he was probably imagining it black.

She stepped back completely then, bumping the bookcase behind her. Her gaze darted over his shoulder, contemplating making a mad dash for escape.

His eyes burned a pale shade of green. “It is you. You were at Sodom.”

Denial seemed futile. It was not a question. He spoke with conviction.

A long tense moment stretched between them. Finally, she nodded. Just once. A hard jerk of her head. And there was some relief mixed in with the dread swirling through her. Finally, he knew. No more secrets.

His expression twisted, and she knew she had lost him then. Whatever softness there had been for her vanished. Whatever had motivated him to want to kiss Rosalie vanished. She saw something in his eyes. Her stomach churned sickly. Something hard and bitter that she had only seen when he looked at her mother.

“Is there more?” he demanded. “Anything else I should know? What other secrets do you harbor?”

“None. Nothing.”

He looked skeptical. “You’ve had no other rendezvous at Sodom? I needn’t fear any other gentlemen recognizing you? Come, I need to know what ruin might at any time befall.”

“It was only you. Only those two times.”

He inhaled, his shoulders pulling back at the reminder of them together. She was sure that was it. She had tricked him into doing things with her that he would never have dared otherwise. It stung. He was angry. She knew he would be. And yet a small part of her was hoping he remembered their connection . . . and how good it had been between them.

He dragged both hands through his hair, sending the dark strands in every direction. “How did you even learn of such a place, much less gain an invitation?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it with a snap. She could not throw Aurelia to the wolves. She needn’t be dragged into this.