A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin_The Debutante Files

“Thank you, Mr. Fanning. It is easy with you for a partner.”

They were merely words, pleasantries, but they felt so very final. The words settled like bricks in her stomach. As Fanning smiled widely, she knew he was hers if she would have him. And this time she must. If not him, then someone else. And soon. It might as well be him.

This time she couldn’t run or refuse with all the haste of some spoiled debutante with the leisure of choice and time on her side.

She looked out at the dance floor again, searching for Dec. He stood in the same spot. As she whirled past him, she turned her head, her gaze locked with his.

His eyes were inscrutable, but she didn’t need to wonder what he was thinking. She knew it had to be similar to her own thoughts. That she might have finally found her husband.





Chapter 20


Aunt Peregrine filled the carriage with her chatter on the ride home. She recounted every waltz Rosalie danced with particular relish. “That first dance with you, Declan-dearest, truly set the proper tone.” She patted his hand where it rested on his knee. “Well done, nephew, well done.”

He grunted a response. Now, he supposed, was not the time to confess that he had thought very little about prospective suitors when he swept Rosalie into his arms. It had simply been a valid reason to hold her. To touch her again. He hadn’t thought at all. Need had guided him.

“I even saw you dancing this evening, Aurelia. With Lord Needleton and Lord Denton.” Aunt Peregrine bobbed her turbaned head with happy approval. “An all around good evening, I must say. I count it a resounding success. Perhaps we shall have two matches to announce before the Season ends.” She brought her hands together in a single clap. “Won’t that be simply brilliant?”

Aurelia snorted softly. Rosalie’s gaze flicked to him. Upon seeing him staring back at her, she quickly averted her gaze. She’d been skittish as a colt with him all evening, and he’d supposed that was understandable. He knew her secret. More than that. He knew her taste. It was imprinted on him. He wondered if she thought about everything they had done as much as he did. It was a problem. He could not stop thinking about her. And he wasn’t thinking about her in the manner one thought of a stepsister. He saw her as a woman. A woman he wanted in his bed.

Aunt Peregrine’s voice grated on his ears, droning on and on about the merits of a country wedding versus one here in Town. After seeing her tonight with the Fanning fellow, the prospect of Rosalie’s marriage to another man felt like a very real and impending thing. A sour taste coated his mouth at the thought of Rosalie in another man’s bed . . . of another man kissing her, tasting her, parting her thighs—

“Declan-dearest? You look unwell. Is something amiss?”

He snapped his attention back to his aunt. She stared at him worriedly, her forehead creased. His cousin watched him, too. Even Rosalie had lifted her gaze. Her warm topaz eyes looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

His gaze dropped down to his hands clasped tightly on his knees. He loosened his death grip and tried to relax his features. Unclenching his jaw, he replied, “Not at all.”

Aunt Peregrine looked from him to his hands and then back up to his face. There was mild skepticism in her eyes, and that surprised him. For the first time that he could recollect, his aunt looked somewhat cognizant. As though she might not only know he wasn’t well, but she might know why. He held her gaze, swallowing against the uncomfortable knot in his throat. She slid her gaze to Rosalie before looking back at him again, arching one eyebrow.

“We’re here,” Aurelia declared unnecessarily as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of his home.

He descended first and then turned to assist each lady down, making certain his hands did not linger overly long on Rosalie.

“Well, I am exhausted,” Aunt Peregrine declared as they entered the foyer.

“Me, too.” Aurelia was already heading up the stairs ahead of them, working the pins free from her hair. “Don’t look for me until the afternoon.”

Aunt Peregrine grinned. “I echo that sentiment.”

Rosalie sent him a hesitant smile. He waved for her to precede him. Lifting her skirts, she ascended the stairs after his aunt and cousin. He followed, the sway of her hips beneath her skirts mesmerizing him. His hands opened and closed at his sides, the memory of her filling his palms still present and alive for him. He’d never forget. Never stop wanting her.

Cursing beneath his breath, he walked a straight line for his room, murmuring a terse good-night as he passed her.

At his door, he looked sideways, his gaze colliding with hers.

“Good night, Declan,” she said so softly he scarcely heard her, but he read her lips. She slowly turned the latch to her door, smiling ruefully at him. That smile felt a little sad, too. A little like farewell.

His chest tightened almost painfully as he watched her disappear inside her bedchamber.

He paused in front of his door, listening for a moment to her voice and the voice of her maid. Shaking his head, he strode into his chamber, shooing his valet away and undressing himself. Climbing into bed, he folded his hands behind his head and stared into the dark, working on convincing himself that these feelings would dissipate once she was out from under his roof. Once she was married to another man. He’d stop caring. He’d learn to forget. Time. Distance. It would cure all.

Rosalie laid wide-awake a good hour after she dismissed her maid for the night. The evening had been agonizing. Dancing with Dec was the one bright light, but from there it had been merely banal conversation with gentlemen more interested in her dowry and the Duke of Banbury than her.

She rolled to her side, smiling weakly and tucking her hand beneath her cheek. She supposed she understood at least part of that. She was more interested in her stepbrother, too. A silly giggle escaped her in the dark. Dec clearly occupied the majority of her thoughts. Her foolish grin slid away as she wondered if it would always be that way. When she was married and old with grandchildren, would she still be full of thoughts for him? She rubbed her hands over her face. How had her life become such a mess? What happened to her days in Yorkshire? Reading to the younger students? Picking flowers on the moors in spring? Sharing a room with Rachel, who snored whenever she drank tea right before bed?

Two raps on her door broke the silence of her chamber. She sat up in bed. The low burning fire in the hearth cast the room in a warm glow. She didn’t move for a long moment, staring in silence at her door. Perhaps Aurelia didn’t go straight to bed after all and wanted to talk. Hopefully, she didn’t want another go at Sodom’s.

She pushed back the counterpane and started for the door, stopping when it swung open. Dec stood there, shirtless, wearing only his breeches. Her heart jumped to her throat as she devoured the sight of him. The hard chest. The stomach chiseled and defined. Her entire body tingled and came alive at his presence, at his nearness.

Still watching her, he entered the room, turned slightly and closed the door. She heard the faint click of the lock and her stomach dipped.

He took several strides toward her and then stopped. A few feet separated them but neither spoke. His gaze swept her once before fastening on her face. Her pulse rushed in her ears. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t manage to get out any of the words tripping through her head.

Why are you here?

What do you want?

He took one more step and stopped again, his bare chest lifting on a great inhalation, and she knew. There was only one thing that would bring him to her chamber in the middle of the night.