A Suitable Replacement (Deceived) Page 8

  "Do not be melodramatic, my lord. What have you to complain about? You would be a prince, with all the luxuries that position carries. She may even permit you to keep with your ridiculous studies, though I advise you do not."

  "I am not marrying anyone," Max said. "That is final."

  Pennington drew himself up, tone taking on such a chill that Max nearly recoiled. "You seem to think you have a choice. There has been quite enough defiance in this affair, and we are ending it. By royal command, you will be wed to Princess Sarah in two months' time. Do you understand?"

  "Yes." Max turned on his heel and shoved past the men crowded up against him, fisted hands trembling, movements jerky as he climbed back into his carriage.

  When it was well away from the house, he slammed his fist into the side of the carriage. "Buggering fuck!" He did it again, ignoring the pain that shot through his hand and down his arm. "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill her. I'm going to fucking kill every last damn bloody one of them."

  "I'm sorry," Kelcey said quietly from where he sat across from Max in the carriage. "You're the only one in this mess who should not be involved. I truly am sorry that since your return home you've done nothing but attend the problems of others."

  Max sighed and stared at his hand. It was too dark to see if he had bruised it, but it certainly throbbed. Stupid. He still wanted to keep hitting things. "I would start a war if that's what it took to see my sister happy. That bastard Pennington is right: who complains about marrying a princess? I would never obtain such a fine match under ordinary circumstances. Theoretically I would come out of this affair better off than anyone."

  And right back into the strict, stifling, all-about-appearances life he had endured as a boy. It was the same life that brought him countless luxuries, but that did not make it feel any less like the cage door was being closed and locked.

  He should not be so despondent over the matter. Kelcey had it far worse, abandoned in all directions with neither warning nor apology. Thinking of the way Kelcey had been treated in all of this made him angry all over again. He wanted to go back and punch Pennington in the face and demand he do right by Kelcey.

  Max sighed again and muttered to the window, "This is not how I imagined this evening going."

  "Oh?" Kelcey asked softly, making him jump, even though he knew he was there. Max wanted to smack himself. "How did you imagine it?"

  "Logically or fantastically?" Max asked, and wanted to smack himself again because he had not meant to ask that aloud.

  "Fantastically," Kelcey asked, voice still soft, as though he were afraid of alarming Max.

  Perhaps he realized how fragile Max felt. Or he was simply tired. Whatever the reason, it was the key to getting Max to say things he normally would never voice. Still, his cheeks heated as he replied, "The two of us naked in my bed. But logically—"

  "Bugger logically," Kelcey cut in, leaning forward and gently taking hold of his sore hand. "I—the other—night—I wasn't—I did not want to do anything while I was drunk. It seemed …"

  "Cowardly." Max made a face, could not quite bring himself to look away from their clasped hands. "I will not deny that. But it seems far more despicable, selfish, to want my sister's fiancé, even if the engagement is off."

  He did not expect the finger that hooked beneath his chin and tilted his head up, or the soft lips that pressed against his in a kiss that was over almost before it began.

  Max swallowed. "What—"

  Kelcey's fingers briefly tightened on his hand, a firm, reassuring press that remained careful of hurting it further, then let go. "Mavin and I talked, you know. When I say she proposed to me, I do mean she presented me with a proposal, something more akin to a business matter. She was tired of being harangued by potential marriage partners, people she could not entirely trust. I have always sought to move beyond the life forced upon me by the mistakes of my family. There was no romance between us, only a friendship. We agreed that taking lovers was acceptable, and children were something we would decide in a few years. I admit it would have been awkward if I was still engaged to Mavin and found myself lusting after her brother … but that is not a problem now, so I had hoped … well, the first part of my plan was to ask you to attend the theatre and hope I did not muck that up. I was going to work out the rest from there."

  Drawing a deep breath, Max let it out slowly, on the verge of laughing or dissolving into tears because he could not take one more upheaval that night. "I admit your words are a surprise. Logically, my only hope was that my apology would prove sufficient to salvage a friendship. Not that it matters now, since I will shortly be consumed with wedding preparations and likely carted off out of the country." His eyes stung as he realized he would be gone indefinitely. One thing to depart on a trip with a set length. Another to go off to be the replacement spouse for a princess who did not know him and had far more important things to worry about.

  Ugh. The entire affair seemed rushed, sloppy, and ill-fated. "I cannot imagine me marrying this unknown princess will actually fix anything. I do not know her, she does not know me. Shoving us together as a sloppy bandage seems stupid at best, tragic at worst."

  "I agree," Kelcey said. "It all smacks of rash, panicked behavior. Not that your lordship is not a prize …" he smiled in a way that Max had never seen, the kind of smile that seemed the starting point of an evening meant to end sweating and gasping and begging for an ache that would last until morning. "But I feel the entire matter will end even more poorly than it has so far gone. Our options for escaping the situation are rather limited, however."

  Max looked at him with raised brows. "I feel obliged to remind you that you've no obligations in the matter. I would think by this point you would be happy to rid of my family once and for all." Anger flared as he thought of his sister, bitter resentment of all that had been foisted upon him by her behavior. He had not felt much more than amusement and fondness, perhaps some frustration, up to that point, but if she were in front of him right then he would have little in the way of kind words for her.

  Though he still, with all his heart, hoped she was happy.

  "I am not going to leave a friend in dire straits, my lord," Kelcey replied.

  "You are not obliged—"

  "I am fit to make my own decisions," Kelcey interrupted.

  Max sighed. "That is true, but I would not cause you further trouble, sir."

  "Well, if it soothes you any, I have an idea that is self-serving as much as anything."

  "Oh?" Max smiled. It seemed the wrong thing to do, but he could not seem to help himself. "What is your clever plan then?"

  Kelcey opened his mouth, hesitated, then drew back and tangled his fingers together. "I hate to—that is—"

  "Just say it, sir," Max said. "The first time we met, it was because you blazed into my home without so much as a by-your-leave to yell at me and make demands. I do not see why you turn hesitant now."

  "I think you should marry me."

  Max blinked, then laughed. "All right, that took me neatly by surprise. Come again, sir?"

  "I mean … it worked for Lord Ridley. And I think there is more going on here than either of us has bothered to learn."

  "It's a royal order that I marry Princess Sarah," Max said. Even if it churned his stomach that they were both helpless about the matter, pieces moved about rather than allowed to move themselves. He wondered how she felt, what she knew, what would happen to her if he ran away as well. But her life, the life of some royal family, was not his responsibility. Would he not do more harm than good? Or was he just making convenient excuses so he could do what he wanted? "If I run, it is treason. I am not eager to go down that path, and I certainly do not want to drag you along with me."

  "I'm already soaking wet, as the saying goes. More water will make no difference. I am surprised that is your only protest."

  Max shrugged. "I can think of worse prospects, sir. From a purely pragmatic point of view, it's a sound plan. We marry, leave the
country—essentially behave precisely like my sister, gods have mercy. There is little anyone can do, presuming they do not find us. Even then, so long as they do not find us within a certain number of days, the marriage cannot be easily annulled, if at all, and by that point they would have moved on to a hopefully sounder plan."

  He did wonder what the fuss was all about. There must be princes and nobles aplenty more suited to marrying Princess Sarah than he, and several of them would haply volunteer, of that he had no doubt. So why him? Why so desperate to keep the original marriage date?

  His mind flitted, of all places, to all the overwrought books he had read while he was abroad. He had encountered that particular premise many a time, and the race to marry always had the same reason. Surely not. It seemed … well, entirely too penny novel.

  That reminded him of another element such stories had in common. "I would imagine I am being watched to be certain I do not do something reckless. Even if we decide upon this madcap scheme, we would never get away, get married, and get lost before they were upon us. My sister only managed it because nobody knew about her affair."

  Kelcey's mouth curved in a grin that Max could just see in the momentary glow of a streetlight as the carriage moved slowly past it. "My lord, I am an expert in such matters. The game awaits only your decision to play."

  Max stared at him a moment, then looked away, tried to weight his options logically.

  Option one: Marry Princess Sarah. A woman he did not know, who did not know him, and who probably had even less choice in the matter than he, especially if his suspicions were correct. No. Treason had nothing to do with it. He would not be party to treating another person that way.

  Option two: Flee alone and remain abroad until the wedding was well past. He doubted he would last terribly long; he was not as adept at such things as his sister. If he was caught, he would definitely be either made to marry Princess Sarah anyway or imprisoned for treason.

  Option three: Marry Kelcey. It was not as though he'd ever possessed ambitions, or even the desire, to marry. They had already been on their way to friends, which was not the worst foundation for a marriage. Kelcey would have the weight of his family and fortune. Max would have a spouse who did not bring him the sort of social burdens and expectations that he dreaded.

  "How do you feel about this, sir? It seems to me you are giving up the most in this affair, and getting precious little for your troubles."

  Kelcey snorted softly, turning to stare out the window in his turn. "What precisely, my lord, am I giving up? A crumbling apartment in a poor section of town? A life where I am tolerated at best and have no future past what my fists and my pistol can provide? If I continue on my path, I will die from either firing too late or of illness and frailty when I am too old to work. Far be it for me to complain of a chance to marry the brother of a duchess and enjoy a better life." His mouth ticked up at one end. "That aside, Mavin is my friend and I would like to call you the same. I can think of worse fates than to be that much closer to my friends. If it does not work …" He shrugged. "We will address that problem when it comes. Until then, I feel that marriage is the best option for us both."

  It was still entirely inappropriate to smile, probably, but Max smiled anyway. "Then I suppose the only question remaining, sir, is this: would you grant me the honor of your hand in marriage?" He held his right hand out.

  Kelcey placed his in it and squeezed gently. "The honor is mine, sir, and I grant it gladly."

  Max laughed and let go, gestured with a batting motion. "Then do tell, my dear sir, how we are to make our grand escape?"

  Grinning, Kelcey explained.

  Chapter Six

  Max grunted as sunlight seared his eyes, closed them again, and burrowed into the soft, warm sheets, relishing the faint scent of peaches that clung to them.

  Something about the observation nagged at him, but he pushed the niggling away in favor of drifting back into a light slumber.

  He was stirred from his dozing by the sound of clinking china, the rustle of fabric, and slippers on carpet. Pulling the blankets down slightly so he could see, yawning so hard his eyes watered, Max blinked groggily at the unfamiliar woman across the room. She was dressed in a blue and cream uniform, hair neatly tucked away beneath a cap, and was briskly arranging breakfast on the large round table set in a half-circle nook that overlooked a bright blue sky.

  Canary. The Canary Hotel. His sleepiness vanished as reality returned with a rush. He'd eloped with Kelcey. He had eloped with Kelcey. It was the strangest thought to ever enter his head, all the stranger for being a fact.

  There was a cough, and Max saw the woman had finished setting out breakfast and was awaiting further instruction from him. "Do you know where Kel—my, uh, where my husband has gone?"

  "He left you a note, my lord," the woman said, hastily ducking her head in an attempt to hide a grin. "But I believe he went into town. Was there anything else I could help you with?"

  "A robe?" Max asked, belatedly recalling that his clothes had been taken away and he had no others. He had eaten breakfast naked before, but only when he was completely alone with no risk of being seen.

  "Right behind that screen, my lord. Ring if you've need of anything else. Good day, my lord."

  "Good day, thank you," Max replied. When she had gone, he threw back the covers and padded over to the ornate maroon screen painted with green and gold birds. He saw a handsome blue robe with white flowers and pulled it on, belting it shut as he walked over to the table and took a seat.

  The tea was hot, well-brewed, with that faint hint of peach that seemed to permeate everything. When he'd finished half a cup of tea he started helping himself to the food: fruit, sausages, bread with butter and honey, oatmeal with cream and brown sugar.

  It was easy to pretend he was taking a trip with his sister, that he would soon be meeting her to go hawking or visit a gallery, or even tolerate being dragged through a dozen shops.

  Easy to ignore that he had flagrantly disobeyed a royal order, married a man he barely knew, and run away with no idea where they were going or how long they would be gone.

  It was far less easy to ignore that his husband was not where Max had expected him to be. Stupid to be hurt, but he had thought to wake up next to Kelcey and perhaps explore what had begun in the carriage where they'd planned their escape.

  He finished his tea and set the cup down with a hard clack, shoved it all away, and leaned back in his seat, turning to stare out at the ocean beyond. Lingering tension from their frantic flight faded off as he savored his meal, savored being warm and still a little sleepy, instead of cold and anxious and afraid. Escaping Pennington's clutches had not been easy, and required leaving all of their possessions behind. They would not even have funds save for the fact Max always kept a purse hidden away in a secret compartment in his carriage.

  After successfully eluding Pennington and his thugs they had headed for Parron City, a tense, exhausting two day journey. Once there, however, they had been married with little fuss. They'd lingered there only long enough to hastily eat before pressing on. Another three days of travel along the coast brought them to the port town of Shelrow, where they booked passaged on a ship that would take them to Basten, a large city that led to practically everywhere.

  Unfortunately, their ship did not depart for five more days, which meant there was entirely too much time in which Pennington might find them. On a more positive note, it also left them time aplenty to purchase clothes and other miscellany that would make their travels a good deal more pleasant.

  It had also led to their first argument, since Max had refused to set foot in the dubious, albeit discreet, inns that Kelcey had suggested. An hour of bickering later, they had settled on the Canary Hotel.

  Kelcey's recalcitrance had quieted somewhat in the face of a hot bath, good soap, and a bed that had him asleep in minutes. Max had snickered about that a bit before sleep took him as well.

  He glared at the empty bed. Where was
his stupid husband?

  Note. The servant had said that Kelcey had left a note. He looked around the room—ah, there on the table by the door. Crossing the room, he picked up the folded slip of paper and read.

  Max,

  Went to obtain necessaries. Will return eventually to drag you out as well since I doubt either of us wants me selecting your clothes.

  K

  Max laughed. Tucking the note in his pocket, he went to finish breakfast, lingering over his second cup of tea as he continued to admire the beach. Pity they were not staying at the Canary overlong; it seemed an excellent place to spend a few days.

  When he had drained the last bit of tea, he rose and returned to the screen to see if perhaps his clothes had been returned already. And so they had, neatly folded or hanging from hooks, looking nearly as good as new, which was impressive given the horrible state of them after being worn for so many days in a row. Stripping off his robe, Max quickly dressed, mouth quirking as that peach scent once again washed over him.

  It felt more than a little silly to don formal clothes as though they were afternoon dress, but hopefully that problem could be fixed quickly.

  Assuming Kelcey ever returned, of course. Max prowled the room, touching and fussing and growing increasingly bored. Perhaps he should venture out on his own. He and Kelcey were bound to cross paths at some point; it was not as though it was a large town, and they had the same goals. Why should he wait around like a helpless young fool?

  Max shrugged into his coat, then departed, heading down the hall to the stairs. The lobby smelled of sea air and peaches, a hint of something warmer mingling with it. A fountain in the middle of the lobby filled the enormous space with pleasant noise as people bustled through or milled about.

  Max stepped outside, pausing to turn his face up to the sunshine and breathe in the smell of the sea. A cool breeze bathed his face as he left the hotel and headed into town. The streets were busy when he reached it, though not overcrowded; a few people gave him odd looks but otherwise he was left in peace.