A Suitable Replacement (Deceived) Page 12

  He scowled when Kelcey did not follow suit, but instead turned right around to leave, pausing only because a footman arrived with soap, hot water, and food. "Where are you going?" Max demanded when the footman had gone.

  "To see that something is done about those bandits. I should be back in a few hours."

  "But—" Max sighed when the door closed sharply behind him. "Idiot. Fine, then." Continuing to mutter about stupid husbands, he stripped off his clothes and washed up, annoyed that yet again he had arrived after a long journey with not a stich of clothing to his name past those he wore.

  Leaving them outside for staff to take away and clean, he shrugged into a robe hanging on the back of the door and then sat down to eat. He had emptied only half his plate when he grew too sleepy to continue. Surrendering, he trudged across the room to the bed, climbed in, and fell asleep almost immediately.

  When he woke again, it was to the late afternoon sunlight slowly fading into dusk and the sound of Kelcey swearing quietly. Rolling over, yawning, he dragged himself up and glanced around the room. Kelcey sat at the table … surrounded by bandages and a basin full of bloody water, bloodstained rags beside it. "What in the hells." Throwing back the blankets, Max strode across the room. "Are you all right?" Kelcey's lip was split, and there was a nice bruise forming on one cheek and a nasty-looking cut over one eye. There seemed to be another bruise forming on his collarbone, and from the stains on his shirt there was at least one more cut that Max couldn't see. "You were supposed to make certain they were stopped, not go back out there and stop them yourself, you bloody idiot!"

  Kelcey looked up at him, exhausted but faintly amused. "I'm fine."

  "Fine does not involve copious amounts of blood."

  That time Kelcey did laugh.

  Max narrowed his eyes. "Pray tell, sir, what is so amusing about me being upset at seeing you covered in blood?"

  "I'm not covered in blood, nor are there copious amounts of it," Kelcey replied, setting aside a bloody rag and picking up a jar of the same unguent he had used to treat Max's hands back when he'd been accosted outside the bookshop.

  Sitting down in the other chair, Max asked, "What happened?"

  Kelcey finished treating the wounds on his face, then stripped off his shirt and set to work on the one low on the right side of his ribs. "Not much, no matter how dramatic I look. I went to get information on the highwaymen, since it seemed far likelier they would fence their goods here. The supposition proved correct, and I found them quite quickly after speaking with their fence and a pub they frequent. They were less than pleased when I told them to stop robbing people, and that if they ever tried to hurt you again they would not get a chance to make that mistake a third time."

  "Fat lot of good that does when they hurt you," Max said. "I do not mind you playing the hero, sir, but I would prefer you do it because somebody served me the wrong dinner." He reached over the mess on the table and lightly touched the back of Kelcey's hand. "I dislike seeing you hurt, even only slightly, though I maintain this is not slightly."

  Kelcey kissed his cheek. "I promise this is nothing. No one shot at me, which is always a nice turn of affairs. How long are we staying here?"

  "It was supposed to be a month," Max replied. "But—" He broke off as someone knocked. Getting up, he crossed the room to open the door, let in the staff who came in bearing a tray of food and tea as well as the rest of their belongings. Thankfully the belongings seemed intact. "I'm glad they did not manage to steal everything, though I'm annoyed enough by what they got from our carriage."

  "They'd already sold off most of it by the time I found them, but I got back some of it."

  Max poured a small measure of cream into his teacup and then filled it with dark, fragrant tea. He drank half of it before going to his trunk and pulling out clothes. "Should we cut our stay here short and continue forth?"

  "Perhaps," Kelcey said, but the word was spoken slowly, heavily.

  Max rose from where he was bent over the trunk and turned around, shook his head and tsked at the way Kelcey was falling asleep and on the verge of smashing his poor, battered face into his teacup. Pulling on the breeches he'd grabbed, discarding his robe, he crossed the room and tugged on Kelcey's arm. "To bed with you. We'll decide on our plans after you've slept and look less like you spent the night in a jailhouse, scoundrel."

  "I'm not a scoundrel," Kelcey muttered, but did not protest when Max dragged him to his feet and ushered him over to the bed.

  Stripping off Kelcey's clothes, tossing them aside in a pile to attend later, Max got him settled in bed and the blankets spread over him. Dropping a kiss on his mouth, Max ordered, "Go to sleep."

  Kelcey's only reply was a soft snore.

  Laughing softly, Max returned to his trunk for socks and a shirt, then went to another and dug out one of the few books he had picked up along the way. Refreshing his cup of tea and filling a plate with sandwiches and scones, he carried it all to bed and settled in, more than content to while away the day reading and watching over Kelcey.

  Chapter Nine

  Once Kelcey was recovered to Max's satisfaction, they abandoned their plans and left a week early, the city soured by the circumstances of their arrival. They carried on traveling near-aimlessly for another month and a half, touring cities, towns, battlefields, monuments … Those months were the best of Max's life, their happiness marred only by the general frustrations of travel and the odd argument, none of which were ever as tempestuous as those he had engaged in with his sister. He and Mavin could start a shouting match over crumpets, if they were really determined to be unbearable brats.

  Thankfully there were no more highwaymen, or robbers of any sort beyond a stray pickpocket outside one of the many museums they visited.

  When they finally came to a stop, it was at the Mermaid Falls Hotel in the Blue Ash Mountains, a place his parents had favored when the family traveled during the summer. It had always been Max's favorite.

  Everything had been going so well, he really should have expected trouble. After thirty-three years of enduring Mavin's peculiar talent for turning up in the most unexpected places or the worst possible moment, he definitely should have anticipated that his 'wedding travels' would be interrupted by her. Of all the hotels in the world, of course he would manage to pick the very one she was already at.

  For all his snide remarks about twins not actually being connected in any sort of 'soul-bonded' way, he always knew when she was approaching. It was, he had always assumed, akin to a bird knowing when a cat was preparing to pounce.

  He was sitting in the dining room of the Mermaid, reading a new book and enjoying his breakfast while Kelcey still slept, when he felt the familiar prickle. Carefully marking his place, he closed his book and finished his tea. He set the cup back on its saucer just as Mavin dropped with a flourish into the seat across from him. Her light-brown hair was pinned so that her curls fell wildly about her, amethysts sparkling in her ears. The bodice of her stunning emerald and plum dress was cut so low he wanted to throw a sugar cube down her décolletage just because he could and there was a brotherly obligation to be annoying. "Good morning, dear, sweet, ninny-headed sister mine."

  She slammed her hands down on the table and leaned toward him. "What in the blazing hells are you doing here, you good-for-nothing prat?"

  "Not looking for you, oddly enough," Max replied, and leaned across the table to give her cheek a quick peck. "I am glad to see you, though."

  Mavin blinked at him. "What do you mean you're not looking for me? What are you doing here if you're not looking for me?" She scowled as she settled back in her seat, remained silent as a waiter appeared with a fresh pot of tea, additional cup, and a plate of pastries.

  "So are you mad that I'm here for you, or mad that I'm not here for you?" Max asked. "You cannot be mad about both, though if anyone would try it's you."

  "Do shut up," Mavin replied, and poured herself a cup of tea, vigorously stirring cream and sugar into it. "The hour
is far too early for your poor attempts at wit."

  Max rolled his eyes. "I swear I was not trying to find you. I am, however, quite happy to have done so anyway, since it's your fault I am here at all. Because of you and your damnable Lord Ridley, the crown attempted to force me to marry his princess. So I am on the run, as it were."

  "He's my damnable Lord Honeysett now, don't be a twat. Why would anyone want you to marry a princess? You would cause an international disaster inside of a week."

  "Better than inside of a day," Max retorted.

  Mavin laughed and raised her cup to him before taking a sip. She reached for a flaky chocolate pastry and broke it into pieces on her plate. "So you are flitting about the country until the matter is otherwise resolved? If they find you, they can still drag you back and force you to marry the girl. I do not think that is any way to handle the situation, but governments have never been known for their shining intelligence, only their glaring stupidity."

  "If they find me anytime soon, they will still be able to annul my marriage and drag me to the altar."

  "Your—" Mavin dropped the bit of pastry she had just picked up. "Who in the name—oh my god. You bastard, you bloody bastard." She grinned and smacked the table, cackling loud enough to draw scowls from the few other patrons in the room. Oblivious to them, she leaned over the table, practically putting her bosom in the teapot, and cackled. "You married Kelcey, didn't you? You brilliant, thieving bugger!"

  "Behave!" Max hissed.

  She settled back in her seat, giggling. "I cannot believe you married Kelcey! Is he good in bed? He looked like he would be."

  "I think you've gotten worse in the three years I was absent," Max groused. "You could be a little bit sorry for the mess you have made of my life without even asking me first. Stop asking such grossly inappropriate questions; you know damn good and well I will not answer them."

  "As if I don't know how you look when someone is fucking you properly," she said with a toss of curls. She hooked her right arm over the back corner of her seat, picked up her teacup and smirked at him over the rim before taking another sip.

  Max could feel a headache forming, even as his lips twitched with an urge to smile. "I do not know why I thought I missed you."

  She scoffed at him.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked. "I would have thought you'd be a good deal farther away by this point."

  Setting the teacup down, she leaned back in her seat, arm still hooked over the corner of it, breasts near to falling out of her bodice. It was the only way, Mavin firmly believed, to wear a dress, and in her defense Max had seldom heard anyone disagree. He thought it looked uncomfortable, but what did he know? "We were, but Gerard wants to explore portions of the north, and it's not as though I have any plans. I never anticipated I would be taking such a journey, nevermind under such mad circumstances."

  "You have never planned anything in your life past which poor soul you were going to seduce next, who you are next going to fleece, or which room in your latest dollhouse you will fill," Max replied. "I cannot wait to meet this man you stole from a princess and eloped with."

  She cast him a quelling look—but then broke into the brightest smile he had ever seen on her. It was dazzling. Max blinked.

  Mavin leapt to her feet and held her hands out as a man reached them. Max slowly rose, setting his napkin aside.

  Whatever he had expected, it was not the man before him. He had assumed Lord Ridley to be one of the handsome, flashy, towering sort his sister usually chose for her dalliances. He had not expected a short, pretty, chubby figure with a cheerful but quiet countenance. But there was no mistaking the adoring look on his face as Mavin leaned down to kiss him, a look she returned with such fierceness that Max could not regret a single thing he had been forced to do since returning home.

  "Gerard, this is my brother Maximilian. Max, this is my husband, Gerard."

  "My lord," Max greeted, shaking his hand when Gerard offered it. "An honor to make your acquaintance."

  "The honor is mine, Lord Maximilian. I am sorry that your sister was not present to welcome you home. She greatly regretted it. I am astonished you have found us, though pleasantly so, of course."

  Max motioned Gerard to take a seat as he and Mavin resumed their own. Mavin grinned. "You will never believe how Max has chanced to come upon us." Before Max could explain, she gleefully told the story herself, almost laughing too hard to manage it. Max wished they were not in public so he could throw things at her.

  When she was finished, Gerard shook his head, smiling. "I see a penchant for bold, brash behavior is one of the traits you share. Mav led me to believe you were the well-behaved one."

  "Well-behaved is entirely relative," Max replied. "When one person runs about naked, the one who is only half-naked seems quite modest."

  Mavin sniffed. "I only ran about naked the once."

  "Dare I ask?" Gerard looked between them, laughing but slightly wary.

  "After two carafes of wine and a glass of father's punch," Max added. "It's absurdly easy to dare her to do anything when she ceases to be sober."

  "Be quiet or I will remove your tongue," Mavin hissed, leaning over the table as though that would make her glare worse.

  Gerard coughed. "Beloved, your, uh … have a care for the cream."

  Casting him an amused look, Max turned to his sister and said, "Remove your breasts from the table before you knock the cream over. Honestly, it's entirely too early in the morning to be looking at that much of you."

  She sniffed at him. "My husband would not agree with you."

  "Your husband gets to enjoy them in a way the rest of us do not, and his opinion therefore is invalid."

  "His is the only valid one."

  "Remove your bosom before I dump tea down it."

  Snickering, she leaned back, hooking her right arm over the chair again, extending her left to Gerard, who kissed the back of it.

  Gods have mercy; he had never thought he would see his sister besotted. He was going to tease her mercilessly for it. Max poured more tea and tried to decide the best way to begin his attack.

  He was distracted when she stopped in the middle of saying something to Gerard, staring at something over Max's shoulder. "My, oh, my, I had forgotten what a presence he had. It's like reading one of my erotic books." Pulling a fan from somewhere that Max did not want to know, Mavin began to fan herself. It was only when she smirked at him that her words registered.

  Twisting about in his seat, Max watched Kelcey stride toward them—tall, broad, beautiful, oblivious to the way he turned every head. Max stood as Kelcey reached them. "Look who found me this morning."

  "I cannot even pretend to be surprised," Kelcey replied, eyes going past Max to land on Mavin. "Your grace."

  Mavin stood up in a rush of silk and hibiscus-orange perfume. "You and I need to talk," she said quietly, lighting touching Gerard's shoulder before looping around him to offer her arm to Kelcey, who took it and let her lead him from the room.

  It was stupid to feel hurt. Of course it must be hard to see Mavin after all that had happened—and not happened—between them. But he would have thought Kelcey could spare him a good morning, a hello, a bloody glance before he let Mavin whisk him away.

  He drained his teacup and set it down with a hard clack, then looked at Gerard. Mustering a smile, he said, "I confess I am curious as to how you and my sister became so well-acquainted."

  "I'm sure that is a question we will get asked a lot," Gerard said wryly, toying with his own teacup. "But you are the only one who deserves answers. I refused to argue with her. She seemed in a … not a bad mood, exactly, but certainly restless, the night we met. We got into a discussion on a law of my homeland that has long been a source of contention overseas, and I would not let her turn it into an argument. She got so frustrated she finally stormed off. A few days later she invited me for tea."

  Max snorted, because there was only one reason his sister invited anyone over for 'tea'. F
rom the sheepish look that flickered across Gerard's face, he knew what Max was thinking. "Well, even I have never been able to resist getting into a scrape when she's intent upon one. You have my admiration."

  "Thank you, my lord," Gerard said. "She speaks of you often; from what she's told me of your earlier years … well, it's obvious that you're very close, and I would never do something to harm that bond. I confess I have been anxious you would hate me."

  "If Mav does not hate you, there's not much chance I will," Max said. He poured more tea, then finally succumbed to the urge to look toward the patio where Mavin and Kelcey stood by the railing. Framed by the mountains and sky, they made a handsome, even majestic, couple. They looked like a queen and king. Max might be Mavin's twin, but he never looked that stunning next to anyone. People were usually grateful that he managed to look acceptable.

  Somehow in the past two weeks he had completely forgotten that he was just a replacement. Not even that. Their marriage was just a way to escape something worse. Kelcey had been doing him a favor, technically.

  "You look troubled, Lord Maximilian."

  "Max is fine," Max said absently, stirring sugar into his tea, barely resisting the urge to throw his teaspoon and follow it up with the rest of the tea set. "No one calls me Maximilian save for my parents and a few stiff-necked professors. You are my brother-in-law; there's no reason to call me 'Lord'."

  Gerard nodded. "You should feel free to call me Gerard, then. I hope we will get on well."

  "I cannot imagine we won't." Max tried not to stare as Mavin and Kelcey headed back toward them. He toyed with his teacup, kept firmly to his seat, did not surrender to the urge to stand up and make a scene by kissing Kelcey quite soundly right there in the middle of the dining room.

  But only because Mavin would know why he did it, and he was not in the mood for her teasing. Kelcey took the remaining seat at their table, smiled at him, though it was a bit distracted. A too-familiar dread settled like lead weights in Max's stomach. Having them side by side, was Kelcey drawing a comparison that found Max wanting? "Good morning. Did you sleep well?" he asked, nudging Kelcey's foot under the table.