Fortune's fools (21 page)

"I have an idea, Max. There is another possibility, a way of getting your hands on the marriage settlements a little faster."

"I'm listening," said Max.

"We will take Miss Beauchamp on a little picnic in the country tomorrow, only we will not return. We'll continue north until we reach Gretna Green, where you can marry over the anvil."

"Impossible! She will never agree to the scheme."

"I think she will, once she gets used to the idea."

Max frowned and shook his head, until Tristram demanded, "Do you have a better idea? No? Then we do it my way." He rose and fetched paper and pen. "Here, write her a note inviting her on the picnic."

Max grumbled as he wrote, and Tristram said, "Only think, in a couple of days, you'll be a married man."

"Shaddup," said Max, sealing the envelope.

"Good, now I will deliver it personally. You stay here and try to behave."

"Do not order me about. I can still wrestle you to the ground, halfling."

"If you can catch me," laughed Tristram, hurrying out the door.

Max spent the remainder of the afternoon nursing his sore head. Though he was tempted to go next door and pay the O'Connors a visit, he controlled this impulse. He had already done enough damage, trifling with Kate's affection. Not that he had not trifled with his own, for he had. He was positively blue deviled without her.

Taking out some dice, he played against himself to divert his thoughts. He was less than successful with this gambit. With every roll of the dice, he became more and more down pin. Finally, he threw the dice across the table and left them there. Rising, he began to pace like one of the tigers at the Exchange.

He was not like Tristram, he told himself. It did not take much to make him happy. Tristram, on the other hand, had always had the soul of a poet. He felt things deeply. For Max, as long as he could be free to ride a horse, he had been content.

Suddenly, this was not enough. Given a choice between Thunderlight and Kate, he would chose Kate—amazing as this was to him. Kate. His heart ached to see her and hold her, to make her his own, but he could see no way out of marrying Miss Beauchamp.

When he thought of Philippa Beauchamp, Max wondered what had attracted him to her in the first place. She was beautiful, in a very ordinary way. Mostly, he had to admit, it had been her father's money that had caught his attention.

But now it simply wasn't enough.

Max paused in his pacing. It was like a great light had been lit. Without pausing to think what he would say, he rushed through the door and outside, striding purposefully down the pavement to the O'Connors' front door and rapping a lively tattoo.

"I want to see Miss O'Connor. It is urgent!"

"One moment, sir, I will see ... sir, please ..."

In two great steps, Max was at the drawing room door, pushing it open and entering while the butler bobbed along on his heels, protesting volubly.

The wind was knocked quite out of his chest when he realized the room was in Holland covers. Stopping so suddenly, the butler ran into him and then backed away.

Whirling around, Max grabbed the servant by the collar and demanded, "Where are they? Do not tell me they have already gone!"

"No, sir, they are still packing. Allow me to see if Miss O'Connor will receive you."

"Very well, but tell her who has called, and that it is urgent."

"I shall, sir."

The butler hurried away, and Max tore the cover off the sofa, but he didn't sit down. Instead, he resumed his pacing.

A moment later, he stopped, tears filling his eyes when he spied Kate smiling at him from the doorway. Without a word, he hurried to her side, took her into his arms, and kissed her—again and again, with a hunger that reached his very soul.

Taking his lips from hers, he kissed her eyes, her forehead, burying his face in her hair, murmuring her name over and over.

Finally, a foolish smile on his face, he closed the

door and led her to the sofa, pulling her onto his lap, and taking her face in his hands.

"Kate, my dearest Kate. I could not stay away any longer. I love you as I have never loved anything or anyone. I cannot bear the thought of living if you will not consent to be my wife. Please, Kate, say you will marry me.

She gazed into his eyes, smiling and nodding. "Yes, yes, Max. It is what I want more than anything."

This pronouncement caused another bout of kisses and embraces that lasted much longer than propriety dictated, but neither participant seemed to care.

Their breathing ragged, they parted. Kate moved to one side of the sofa and Max to the other, facing each other.

"Max, how will we ever manage this? You are engaged to Miss Beauchamp."

"I know, he said, shaking his head dolefully. "We must think of something. I... Kate, I did a stupid thing last night. I gambled and lost, just like my father. I had always sworn ... but there, I was not myself."

"Oh, Max. How much?"

"Almost one hundred guineas. Not a fortune, but it might as well be to me."

Kate smiled and leaned forward, grasping his hand and kissing it. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

A moment later, she returned, carrying her reticule.

"Max, I know you would not normally accept this, but since that race was your idea in the first place, I want you to have it. Papa told me to keep the extra one hundred fifty guineas. Here," she said, thrusting a bundle of notes at him. "You are sure one hundred will be enough?"

"Kate, I cannot," he said, handing it back.

"Maxwell Darby, do not be stupid. You have just asked me to marry you. What is mine is yours. Do you intend to begin our life together in debtor's prison?"

He chuckled. "I do not think Osgood would do that to me."

"But would it not be better to begin without that hanging over our heads?" she said sensibly.

He took the notes and put them in his pocket, saying simply, "Thank you, Kate."

"You're welcome. Now there is only one thing standing in our way."

Max groaned and ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Miss Beauchamp. And Tristram. Oh, Kate, I let Tristram talk me into a very foolish plan just a little while ago."

"What is it?"

Max outlined Tristram's plan for him and Philippa to elope so that he could receive the marriage settlements sooner.

"Now I not only have to tell her I am not taking her on a blasted picnic, but that I am also ending the betrothal."

"But, Max, surely she will understand," said Kate.

"Will she? I have the distinct feeling that Miss Beauchamp is much more like her mother than anyone knows. She could very well drag both our names through the mud. Mine I don't care about, but yours ... I'll not have it, Kate."

"Why don't I come along on the picnic tomorrow? When she sees how much we love each other, surely she will not raise a fuss."

"One can only hope," said Max, stroking her fingertips. With a sudden wide grin, he said, "Perhaps you should pack a valise, Kate. It would be a shame for Tristram's plan to be wasted."

"You mean we should elope?" she whispered.

"Would it be so terrible? The thought of waiting weeks until the banns are read is not very appealing, is it? What do you say?"

She smiled, nodding eagerly, and he took her hand and brought it to his lips for a chaste kiss. He dared not pull her into his arms. He wasn't certain he had the willpower to stop again.

After a moment of gazing into each other's eyes, the pragmatic Kate straightened and said, "Max, I hate to ask, but are you sure you wish to throw away Miss Beauchamp's fortune? I mean, she is her father's only child. You will be wealthy beyond your wildest dreams if you ... marry ... oh, Max."

So much for willpower!

The next morning dawned clear and bright. Max had ordered the marquess's landaulet for ten o'clock. Need-ham, the marquess's head groom, had agreed to drive it. He was a trustworthy servant, so Max was not worried about gossip being carried back to London about their exploits. He was not at all certain what Miss Beauchamp's reaction would be—tears, screaming, or quiet acceptance. At any rate, the last thing he wanted was someone reporting every detail to the scandal sheets.

Tristram eyed the landaulet with trepidation. "Max, I don't like these things. Are you sure Needham can drive this?"

"Upon my honor, Tris, you know he can. He drives at least as well as I do."

"All right, all right. I just don't fancy being turned over and being forced to ride one of these jittery beasts to the nearest inn."

"No need t' worry, Master Tristram," said Needham from the driver's box. "I wouldna let you ride one of 'em anyway."

Tristram grinned at the cheeky groom and said, "So long as we understand each other!"

"I will be back in a minute," said Max, hurrying into the house and coming out with three boxes. Opening the boot of the carriage, he stowed all of these away.

"What was all that?" asked Tristram.

"It was just a few things for the picnic," said Max. Lowering his voice for his brother's ears alone, he added, "And my clothes. You don't want me to go all the way to Scotland wearing the same kit, do you?"

"No, no, of course not. I cannot believe you are really going through with it," said Tristram.

"Do I have a choice?" said Max, trying to keep his face grim, but finding it impossible.

Frowning, Tristram said, "What is so funny? If I did not know better, I would think you were happy about this."

"Let us say I have reconciled myself to wedding over the anvil. I'll go get Kate."

"I still don't know why you wanted to bring her along," grumbled Tristram.

"And I told you I think it will help Miss Beauchamp accept the matter more quickly. As a matter of fact, with Kate's help, I hope Miss Beauchamp will embrace the idea!"

Whistling, Max trotted next door and up the front steps. Moments later, Kate appeared on his arm, smiling sunnily. She wore a green carriage dress with a fitted spencer that was trimmed in gold braid. Her bonnet was velvet with matching gold braid.

"Good morning, Kate. You are looking very pretty this morning."

"Why, thank you, Tristram. Isn't this the finest weather for a picnic? I cannot wait to leave London behind and get into the country. I understand you have been to this inn before. There are tables outside?"

"What? Oh, yes, along a small stream. It is an idyllic setting," he replied, helping her into the carriage.

Their next stop took them to the Beauchamp town house. Max, once again, trotted up the steps to fetch his fiancee, who wore a rose-colored carriage dress with knots of silk roses pinned here and there. On her bonnet was a huge silk rose that cast her face into shadow.

Max took the box she carried and place it in the boot before opening the door to the carriage.

Looking inside, he said, "Tristram, I do not want you getting ill. You sit in the forward-facing seat with Miss Beauchamp. Kate and I will manage quite well in the rear-facing seat."

"Are you sure you want me to do that, Max?" asked Tristram. Leaning down and whispering, he said, "Wouldn't it be better for you to sit beside your fiancee?"

"Not at all. Just do as I say," said Max, helping Miss Beauchamp into the carriage as the other two occupants greeted her cordially.

"Now, is everybody settled?" he asked when he had taken the seat beside Kate.

They all agreed that they were, and he gave Needham the office to start. Miss Beauchamp's parasol went up to guard her face from the sun, but Kate threw back her head and laughed at the sheer pleasure of the day to come.

As they drove along in the open carriage, conversation was limited because of the noise of the road. Max leaned close to Kate and whispered in her ear.

"If I didn't know better, I would guess that those two knew each other as well as we know each other."

"Max, what a thing to say about the girl you were supposed to marry. I'm sure their conversation is perfectly innocent," whispered Kate, smiling at Tristram when he happened to look away from Miss Beauchamp.

An hour later, they arrived at a small posting inn outside London. Most of the traffic that stopped there consisted of people too weary to go on, or those from London who merely wanted a taste of the country.

While the Darby brothers helped the ladies to alight, Needham opened the boot and began hauling out boxes.

"What are you doing?" asked Max.

"I thought these were for your picnic, Master Max," said the groom.

"No, no, not at all. My brother has sent ahead and ordered our nuncheon. Leave those boxes alone."

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the groom before walking away and muttering to himself about the eccentricity of the quality.

"Shall we, ladies?" he said, offering his arm to Kate, who was closest to him. Tristram and Max's fiancee were left to follow.

"Good morning, Mr. Darby. I received your note with your requirements," said the landlord. "You'll find a nice table all laid out for you. Come right this way."

The landlord led them through the inn's public rooms and out a doorway to the back. Following a gravel path, he continued to the stream where a table with a pristine white cloth waited for them. The table was set for four with four chairs. A few paces away, a large blanket was spread on the ground in case anyone wanted to lounge about.

"I have your champagne chilling, sir, and your luncheon will be served in a few minutes." The landlord bowed and left them.

"You seem to have thought of everything, Tristram."

"What a charming place," said Kate, allowing Max to seat her.

Max then took the chair next to her, leaving Tristram to perform the same duty for Miss Beauchamp.

The landlord reappeared with a young man carrying a heavy tray. Balancing the tray on the edge of their table, the landlord served them roasted fowl, sweet peas, and baked pears. He sent the boy back for glasses of cider for the ladies and ale for the gentlemen. All this was accomplished with great style. After a final inspection, he nodded and bowed before leaving them in solitude.

Max opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut, unable to think how to begin.

"Food first, I think," he said, making Miss Beau-champ giggle nervously. Max glanced at Kate, but she appeared as puzzled by this as he was. With a shrug, he fell to eating the excellent repast.

After the second remove, the landlord and the lad returned again. This time, the tray contained apples, pears, and a variety of cheeses. It also had the promised champagne and four glasses.

"Would you care to open it, sir?" he asked Tristram. Tristram waved it away, and the landlord performed this office, filling the four glasses and again leaving them alone.

Max raised his glass and said, "To love."

Miss Beauchamp and Tristram both looked surprised, but they raised their glasses and then drank the sparkling liquid.

"To marriage," said Tristram, and the others echoed this sentiment.

Max placed his glass on the table. Tristram did the same.

"Miss Beauchamp, I'm afraid we have gotten you here under false pretenses," said Max.

"Not exactly false, my dear," said Tristram, covering her small hand with his.

Max frowned at the gesture. He glanced at Kate and was relieved to see that she was frowning, too. He was not the only one who was confused.

"Max," said Tristram. "We have a confession to make."

"We?"

"Yes, Philippa and I. I'm afraid I have not been very honorable in all this. When I said we should take Philippa on a picnic so that the two of you could elope, I really meant so that she and I could elope. That is why she brought a bandbox with her."

"The devil you say!" exclaimed Max, thumping the table with his palm. He steadied it as the glasses began to tremble.