Fortune's fools Page 17

  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 bro
thers 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.

  "Tris, are you saying that you . . . and Miss Beauchamp ..." said Kate.

  "Yes, though we never meant for it to happen," said Tristram, glancing at the girl by his side. "Philippa is too noble. She would have wed you no matter what, Max. She did not wish to disappoint her father."

  "As good a reason as I had," muttered Max.

  "You are not too angry with me, are you, Mr. Darby?" asked Philippa Beauchamp, her blue eyes wide with fear.

  Max began to laugh. Kate joined him, and soon they were almost falling out of their chairs with amusement.

  After a moment, Tristram said, "It is not as funny as all that."

  Max held up his hand while he got his mirth under control. When he could speak again, he said, "But it

  is, Tris. I had decided to call it quits with Miss Beauchamp. I'm sure you will not be offended by that, Miss Beauchamp."

  "Not at all," she said, her dimples showing. "And I think it is time you called me Philippa. Tristram has been doing so for ages."

  "Thank you, Philippa. I deem it an honor. And you must call me Max, under the circumstances. And this is Kate, to you, since you will be sisters, of sorts."

  "So you and Miss O'Connor—I mean, Kate—are to be wed, too?" asked the girl.

  "Yes, as soon as we can reach Scotland. I suppose the two of you will go back to London and tell Philippa's father what has happened. I do not envy you that, Tris. He is not the sort of man one wants to cross. Very powerful friends, he has."

  "Oh, Papa is a pussycat. He would not mind."

  "Perhaps not, but Philippa and I have decided not to wait, either. We are for the border, too. You will not mind the company, I hope."

  "Not at all," said Max, placing an arm around Kate's waist. "The more the merrier."

  "Having the two of you along will make things easier, really," said Kate, slapping his hand away. "Philippa, you and I can share a room at each of the inns. Everything will be quite proper."

  "Oh, what a splendid idea. That was the one thing I worried about. I love my dear Tristram, but I did not wish to . . . well, you know," said the girl, turning a charming shade of pink.

  Max raised his glass again and said, "To us!"

  Ten

  It was a merry journey indeed. Though there were many stolen kisses, the young ladies managed to keep their swains at bay for the three-day journey. Nor were they overtaken by any angry papas in hot pursuit, since the girls had sent home letters explaining their impetuous flight.

  Kate and Max were deliriously happy just spending every waking moment together. As they changed from one traveling coach to the next, they rode side by side, their heads together, discussing their future.

  "You will love Ireland, Max. It is so beautiful there."

  "I know I will as long as you are there," he whispered.

  Kate blushed at the compliment, and said, "I thought Tris was supposed to be the poet in the family."

  "Perhaps being with you brings out the poet in me," he said, giving her hand, which he held in his lap, a squeeze.

  Snow was falling when they reached their destination, lending their weddings a fairy-tale quality. Forgetting to breathe, Max had to lean on Tristram for support when Kate walked into the chapel.

  "You are so beautiful," he whispered when she took his hand.

  The short service ended with a kiss. Tristram again was pressed into service to whisper into his brother's ear that they needed to wait until later for that.

  Tristram and Philippa were next. Max watched her approach to the altar with wonder. Where, he wondered, was the shy, stumbling girl he had tried to court? In Tristram's company, she was not only beautiful, she was self-possessed and confident.

  When the second ceremony was over, the four of them hurried back to the inn, where they had taken two rooms, this time as couples. The landlord and his wife made a living by catering to eloping couples, and they set out a huge feast for the four newlyweds.

  "Max, this is wonderful. Have a bite," said Kate, offering her fork to her husband. He took a bite of the rabbit and nodded.

  "Who would have thought the Scots could cook like this," he said.

  The landlady walked in with another platter, this one containing delicate pastries. Max groaned and put his hand on his stomach.

  "Ye must try a little, Mr. Darby, or you'll hurt my feelings, you will."

  "I would not want to do that, Mrs. Brown. Very well, just a little. Here, Kate. Where are Tristram and Philippa?"

  "Oh, they w
ent upstairs fifteen minutes or more since," said the landlady.

  Max chuckled and rose. "We'll take a couple of your pastries up with us, Mrs. Brown. I didn't realize it had grown so late."

  The landlady laughed and left them alone.

  Kate slapped at Max's arm and said, "You are not very subtle, husband."

  "If you wanted subtle, you should not have married me, Kate. I'm too direct in my dealings. For instance, Tristram might quote you poetry, but for me, I'll just say, would you like to go upstairs, Mrs. Darby?"

  "I thought you would never ask," she replied with a giggle.

  He caught her to him and gave her a quick kiss. "A promise of things to come," he whispered. Taking her hand, he led her out of the private parlor and up the stairs to their room.

  "I want you to know, my love," he whispered as he closed the door. "I don't wish to frighten you. I know this will be strange for you, and ..."

  Kate turned and threw her arms around his neck, molding her body to his. After a moment, she leaned back in his arms and giggled. "Don't be absurd, Max. You are talking to a country girl. I only hope I don't frighten you."

  "Minx!"

  "Rogue!"

  The two couples had agreed to spend three days in Scotland, at the Browns' inn. Though they had planned to meet for meals each day, they never saw each other until it was time to board the coach for home.

  Though none of them offered to share information about their experiences, it was obvious from their contented smiles that they were quite happy with their new mates.

  "I shall be glad to get home," said Philippa. "I do hope Papa is not too upset."

  "I'm sure Tristram will be able to win him over," said Max. "What about you, wife? Are you worried that your parents will have me horsewhipped?"

  "Not Papa. I think he will be secretly pleased. And Mama will be delighted. They married for love, too, you know."

  Max insisted on accompanying Tristram and Philippa into the house. As they climbed the steps of the mansion, he explained in an undertone to Kate, "It is the least I can do after jilting his daughter."