Page 46 of How to Ruin a Rake

“Congratulations.” Allegra turned and smiled at her sister. “I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”

She kept the smile pinned firmly to her face until she reached the sanctuary of her bedchamber, where her dog Jester and a hot bath awaited her in front of the fire. She took off her clothes, told her maid to throw the dress away, and got in the bath. The moment she closed her eyes, she pictured Max smiling down at her as he pleasured her body. With a soft moan, she cupped herself between the legs. She had to stop thinking about him. Yearning for a man who would never want her was ridiculous and beneath her, but somewhere in her heart she fervently wished that wasn’t true.

She sank down beneath the water and held her breath, trying to force the sensual memories to leave, but it didn’t work. She lifted her head and wiped her eyes. And why would she want to forget? Those memories would have to last for the rest of her life.

After a long, tedious journey, Max eventually arrived at his place in the Albany and, after leaving the horse in the care of his ostler, he went into his lodgings where his valet, Claude, rushed out to greet him. He was too well trained to ask where Max had been.

“You’re back, my lord.” His appalled gaze traveled down from Max’s head to his feet. “Your clothing!”

“Burn the lot,” Max said. “And please order me a bath.”

“Yes, my lord. Would you care for something to eat?”

“Not yet.” Max eyed the pile of correspondence on the table. “Have you heard any gossip about me since I’ve been gone?”

“Particular gossip, or just the usual?” Claude asked.

“Particular.” Max took off his coat and tossed it on a chair.

“Nothing has been said directly to me, my lord, but I can inquire whether the other staff have heard anything.”

“Please do that.” Max untied his cravat and added that to the growing pile.

“Is there something specific I should be asking about, my lord?” Claude asked.

“No, just keep me informed.”

Claude picked up Max’s discarded garments and left the room. Max sat down to take off his boots and then poured himself a large brandy before picking up the pile of correspondence. If Roberts had returned to town and spread gossip about seeing Max and Lady Allegra together, then surely someone would have mentioned it to him.

He went through his letters, which were mostly invitations to events he would never attend. There was a note from Landon asking where he was, one from his mother he kept to read later, and nothing else of any importance. Max frowned. Had Roberts suffered a change of heart? Or had he decided that the idea of Max eloping with Lady Allegra was so far-fetched that no one would believe him? Neither of those explanations satisfied him.

He drank his brandy and turned his attention to the daily papers that Claude—who occasionally acted as his social secretary—had thoughtfully stacked on the table beside his letters. Max turned to the gossip columns, but there was nothing there, either. It was most peculiar.

There was a knock on the door, and two manservants entered with the bath and the first of several buckets of hot water from the kitchen downstairs. When they were done with their deliveries, Max thanked them and stripped off the rest of his clothes. As he pulled his shirt over his head, he was convinced he could smell Allegra, which wasn’t surprising considering he’d spent a considerable amount of time cuddled up in bed with her.

A mingled pang of loss and desire shot through him as he stepped into the bath to wash all traces of their liaison from his skin. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the side of the bath, and pictured his feisty traveling companion. She wasn’t beautiful, she spoke far too plainly, and yet there was an honesty to her he’d never encountered before in his life. She hadn’t cared about his position in society—she’d seen through that in an instant—but she had seen him, and more remarkably, found good in him. He might regret the disturbance he’d brought to her existence, but he would never forget her.

Max finished his bath and allowed Claude to fuss over choosing clothes. Once suitably attired, he set out to his club, where he hoped to find Landon and possibly Roberts. He had a sinking sensation that the sooner he found out what was going on, the better, because the silence was unnerving. He’d come back ready to fight to preserve Allegra’s good name, and he was still determined to do so.

He spotted Landon in one of the salons and went over to him.

“Max! You old devil.” Landon slapped him on the back. “You’re back! Let’s drink to your happy return.”

“I’d rather speak to you in private,” Max said.

Landon’s eyebrows went up. “That sounds rather serious, dear one, but what can you possibly have to say to me that can’t be said in front of our friends?”

Max turned on his heel and headed toward one of the more private rooms the club offered. It didn’t take long for Landon to follow him, still demanding at the top of his voice to know what Max wanted. Max waited until Landon came through the door, shut it behind him, and leaned against it.

“What’s the serious face for?” Landon asked.

“How did you get back to London?” Max asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, old chap.” Landon helped himself to the brandy sitting on one of the room’s side tables.

“We had a wager.”

“Which one? There have been so many.”