Fortune's fools (11 page)

"But, Max, I cannot do that! What would happen when Papa found out? And you know he would! And

then Mama would learn of it and become upset. I would be ruined—not that I care, but Mama does. I simply cannot do it," she said dolefully, not even realizing she had called him by his given name.

In return, Max said, "Not you, Kate ... me!"

He sat back, his arms folded across his chest, supremely confident that he had saved the day. Kate frowned a moment and then her face cleared, a growing smile on her lips.

"Oh, Max! How clever of you! Papa and Mama may learn of it and be angry, but they cannot accuse me of ruining my reputation. It is the perfect scheme!" said Kate, throwing her arms around his neck.

Then his lips met hers, and Kate felt a jolt of excitement course through her veins. In amazement, she kissed him back. After a moment, she withdrew her arms, and he lifted his head, grinning at her from ear to ear.

Kate sat back, her own eyes glowing with some undefined emotion. She quickly looked away, though she knew he had not noticed. She could tell from his fervent gaze that he was already picturing himself riding Thunderlight to victory.

"When and how?" she asked in a detached tone.

"Ah, leave that to me, my dear. I will take care of everything. I will send you word tomorrow. Now, you had better go. Wouldn't do for your parents to discover you here with me. Not yet."

Kate rose and went to the gate, pausing to look back at him. He had already forgotten his shocking kiss and was completely oblivious to its effect on her.

So much for Max Darby being her Sir Milton, her shining knight.

Five

Kate was in a better frame of mind by that evening when she was dressing for the theater. Maxwell Darby might not be her ideal knight, but he had devised a method for her to keep her beloved Early Girl. It was not foolproof, but it was as close to a sure thing as she had ever seen.

And while Max might hold a certain fascination for her, she prided herself on her practicality. First things first. Let him win another horse for her father to sell at auction. Then she would see if there was a reason to hope for more.

Kate grinned at her image, causing Dolly, who was arranging her red curls, to smile and tease, "You have a bloom in your cheeks, Miss Kate. You must be thinking of some young man."

"Nonsense, it is simply hot in here. That is why I am flushed. Why do you not open a window?" asked Kate, fanning her face with her hand.

"Window or no, miss, you cannot put anything past old Dolly."

"Nonsense," said Kate, but she grinned at the maid.

Just then the door opened and her mother, dressed in a pale lilac evening gown, entered the room.

"Oh, you look beautiful, Mama."

"A right treat for the eyes, madam," agreed the maid.

"You are too kind," she said, floating into the room and sitting on Kate's bed so that her image was in the dressing mirror.

"Did you want something, Mama?" asked Kate after watching her mother mutilate a lace handkerchief.

"Yes, I ... oh, it is so unpleasant, but you know that I called on your aunt this afternoon, after meeting our neighbor." Her mother's gaze met hers in the mirror.

Kate looked away. Her mother could never get to the point when she had something unpleasant to relate.

"How is Auntie?"

"She is fine, dear. I asked her about the status of our neighbors, the Darby brothers."

"Oh, what sort of status?" asked Kate, twisting one curl around her ear and pretending not to be interested in the least.

"You know, whether or not they are suitable."

"And what did she tell you? Not that I care," she added.

"That they are suitable as far as lineage, but, my dear, they are shockingly poor. Perhaps poorer than we are. I mean, we at least have land and horses. They have nothing except their good names."

"Oh, I see," said Kate, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

Her mother rose and came to stand behind her, placing a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. "I thought you should know."

Kate managed a brave smile and said, "I really had not begun to think about Mr. Darby in those terms, Mama. Really, I had not."

"I'm glad. I knew you would be sensible," said Mrs. O'Connor, patting the slender shoulder. "I also wanted

to warn you that, before you came down this afternoon, Mr. Darby did mention that he was interested in Philippa Beauchamp. After finding out about his lack of funds, I understand why."

"Of course. One cannot blame him for trying to better himself through marriage. Is it not what you want for me?" asked Kate with a glittery smile that failed to bring that telltale animation to her emerald eyes.

"For you, my dear child, I want happiness, only happiness." Mrs. O'Connor gave her shoulder a last squeeze and glided toward the door. There, she said, "Do hurry, Kate. You know how your father hates to be late to the theater. He wants to have plenty of time to settle in for his nap."

"I will be down in five minutes, Mama."

The maid gave her hair a final touch and pronounced her finished. With a smile, Kate dismissed her.

Alone, Kate had the most immoderate desire to tear at her hair and throw herself across the bed in tears. She chided herself for the emotion. How could she possibly have thought that Mr. Darby had any interest in her—any romantic interest? Had he shown her that he did, beyond their lighthearted banter as Sir Milton and Iseult? Certainly not. He had been a perfect gentleman and was even offering to help her out of her difficulty. He did not deserve anger or tears. He had not betrayed her in any way.

Kate rose and walked to the window, her willowy frame draped to perfection by her elegant blue silk gown. Her steps were regal, and she held her chin high. At the window, she gazed into the garden, staring at the wall where she knew the shrubbery hid the old gate.

No, Max Darby had not betrayed her. Her heart had done that, without her even knowing it was happening.

Kate smiled as her father winked at her and then leaned closer to her mother, saying, "You will put all the young ladies to shame tonight, my dear."

"Whatever do you mean, Kieran?"

"What do I mean?" he asked. "Why, with that pretty gown and that golden hair of yours, every man's eye will be on you, my love."

Her mother gurgled with laughter and slapped him playfully with her fan. "Gold with gray streaks," she said.

"Gold and silver, my dear. There is nothing a man likes more than gold and silver."

Kate turned and looked out the window as the carriage carried them to Covent Garden and the theater. She knew that Max would be there, and she was gathering her fortitude to withstand the onslaught of her own emotions when she saw him. It was a shame that he was poor and that he was interested in someone who was not. But her mother's speech had sealed her fate, and she knew it did not lie with Max Darby.

When they entered the lobby of the theater, her aunt and uncle were waiting for them. Her uncle, Lord Murray, took her mother's arm, trailing along after her father and her aunt. At the last minute, her uncle turned and offered his other arm to her, saving her from walking behind them like a child.

The gas lights flickered in their sconces, highlighting the beautiful fabrics of the ladies' gowns as they passed through to their box. Kate had been to the theater only once before, and she was looking forward to it.

As if he had read her thoughts, her uncle said, "Are you looking forward to the play tonight, my dear?"

"Oh yes."

"So you are fond of the theater?"

"Yes, uncle, I think it would be wonderful to act on the stage. Only think of all the roles one could play."

"True, but afterward, one would have to leave off the role of queen or knight and return to the mundane world. That might prove quite trying, puss," he said.

Kate laughed, tossing her head at his witticism. Raising her eyes again, she saw him. He was striding toward them, his handsome face eager. His brother followed more slowly.

She must have tensed, for her uncle asked, "What is it?"

"Nothing, only someone we know."

"Mr. Darby, how nice to see you again so soon," said her mother, nodding to his bow. "Allow me to present my sister's husband, Lord Murray. Alfred, this is Maxwell Darby."

"How do you do, my lord? Good evening, Miss O'Connor."

"Mr. Darby," said Kate, quite proud of herself for her polite tone.

"Allow me to present my brother Tristram. Tris, this is Lord Murray, Mrs. O'Connor, and Miss O'Connor. The ladies are our neighbors."

"How do you do?" said the young man, sweeping an elegant bow.

Kate curtsied in reply, marveling at the resemblance between the brothers. She had been too upset that afternoon to notice. Tristram was every bit as handsome as his older brother, but his blond hair and pale blue eyes made him a watercolor image of the darker Max.

They continued on their way to the boxes, and Kate found herself by Max's side.

"I have already put out feelers for our match race. I think Palmer may take the bait."

"Excellent," she whispered, quite pleased with the normality of her tone.

"Perhaps we should meet tomorrow morning, in the park. I would certainly feel better if I could put Thunder-light through his paces again."

"What a good idea," she said. "At nine o'clock?"

"At the entrance to the park. I will be there. Ah, here we are, Tris. Delightful to meet you, my lord," said Max, sketching a bow to them before leading his brother away.

"Pleasant young men, though the dark one, Max, has something of a reputation," said her uncle, watching Kate keenly.

"What sort of reputation?"

"A bit of a daredevil, so they say. Of course, he could not be much different from your papa in his day," added her uncle.

"Papa had a reputation?" asked Kate, loudly enough for her father, who had come looking for them, to protest.

"Completely undeserved," he said. "And I'll thank you, Alfred, not to be disparaging me in front of my own daughter."

"Never disparaging, Kieran, just taking off some of that polish."

Kate entered the box and took the seat beside her mother. Her aunt and mother were already busy discussing the parade of fashions in the opposite boxes. She was glad, for it gave her time to search for Max Darby.

She had no trouble spotting them as the brothers made their entrance into the Beauchamp box, since Mrs.

Beauchamp exclaimed loudly, "Mr. Darby, do come and sit right here beside me. Do move over, Philippa."

Kate's sharp eyes detected his expression of distaste as he allowed the vulgar Mrs. Beauchamp to drag him into the seat next to hers. His smile appeared forced, but he did not draw away from her.

Kate's attention was diverted by a cackle from the box next to theirs. She cocked her head to one side to better hear the masculine voices.

"There they are, Tavistoke. I told you, this is going to be better than the play. Look, the woman's practically throwing herself at him."

"I told you my boys would not let us down, Craven-well. Max will have the Beauchamp girl all sewed up within the week. Just watch and see."

Kate closed her eyes and swallowed. It was just as bad as she had thought. Max was nothing but the basest fortune hunter. Even his father, Lord Tavistoke, knew about it and was egging him on. Was the entire family devoid of honor?

"Hen, heh. Look at her now. Giving him a real show. Too bad her weasel of a husband is in the back of the box. Puts a bit of a damper on the show," said Cravenwell.

"Not too much," said Tavistoke with a crude laugh. "She's put her hand on his knee. Watch out, my boy! Don't let the creature go too far!"

The next four hours were a pantomime of torture for Kate as she watched Mrs. Beauchamp flirt outrageously with Max Darby, their actions crudely narrated by the two men in the adjoining box. For his part, Max seemed willing to withstand with everything she could serve up, despite the fact that Mr. Beauchamp remained in the box until the second interval. Sitting at the back of the box, he had a clear view of all his wife's shocking posturing.

It would have been amusing if it had been anyone else, but for Kate, watching Max's efforts to ingratiate himself with the mother made her ill. When the intervals came, other men arrived in the Beauchamp box to leer at Miss Beauchamp and bow over the vulgar mother's hand— men equally desperate, she supposed, to gain a fortune. In all of this, the husband never moved, never reacted.

By the time her mother and aunt rose at the end of the final act, Kate felt numb. All the way home, all she could think of was Max and that woman. Or worse yet, Max and that insipid girl. Not insipid. She had appeared to be enjoying Tristram's earnest conversation.

Kate suddenly realized any regard she had been harboring for Max Darby was dead. How could she possibly respect someone so sunk to good taste and decorum?

When she finally reached the sanctity of her room and laid her head on her pillow, she sighed at the touch of the cool, soft cotton on her heated cheek. There were no tears, only sadness at what might have been.

Kate comforted herself with the thought that any man she chose would have to put honor before fortune— even if he were a beggar. Max had chosen fortune.

No, Max Darby was not the man for her.

The next morning, clouds covered the sky as well as Kate's spirit. She had settled the matter of Max Darby in her mind, but her heart was having trouble being converted. She knew she should give up on him, but a part of her, the part that wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled, wanted to rescue him from this awful situation. She was torn between disgust and attraction, despair and hope.

Hope won out, and she dressed in her dark green habit and sent for her groom and Thunderlight. She would meet Max in the park. She would accept his help in her efforts to keep her father from selling Early Girl.

Entering the park, she could not help but smile. Max sat astride the big gray gelding, his seat perfection as he watched her approach. He was the consummate horseman, communicating by silent commands with his mount.

"You look lovely this morning," he said.

Kate frowned slightly, and then said, "Oh, I thought you were speaking to Thunderlight."

"No you did not," said Max, bringing the gray closer until his thigh touched hers.

"Very well," she said, her breathing erratic. "Thank you, Mr. Darby. May I say you look quite dashing, too."

He chuckled, and Kate found herself relaxing again. This was the Max she knew, the Max from the garden.

Leaning closer, he whispered, "Can we talk in front of..."

He nodded to her groom and Kate said, "Yes, Bobby knows what we are about. He does not like it, but he will keep it to himself. Will you not, Bobby?"

"Aye, miss, that I will. Else Mr. MacAfee will have my heart for breakfast. If it were anyone else goin' t' ride the big stallion, I woulda tried t' talk the mistress out of it. But I remember you from before, I do. If anyone can win the race, you can, Mr. Darby. An' then Mr. O'Connor, 'e won't hafta sell Early Girl."

"Early Girl has been in Bobby's charge since she was foaled," confided Kate.

"I see. Well, I appreciate your confidence, Bobby. I shan't let you down, any of you."

The groom nodded and kicked his pony, guiding

him away from them. Max slid to the ground and turned to help Kate dismount. The saddles were soon switched, and Kate allowed Max to throw her into the saddle before he climbed onto Thunderlight.