A Suitable Replacement (Deceived)

by Megan Derr

  "Very well, then. I will fetch him back for you, and do my level best to ensure he is never troubled again by his life as Church. I will send you word when there is something worth saying."

  "I owe you one—probably several."

  "Stop being silly." She kissed his cheek again. "Good luck with your meeting. I confess I have already spoken with them and offered my own plan as regards the matter. I think it better than their initial plan, but you still will not like it very much." Her smile faded off, concern overtaking her face. "Everyone deserves a second chance." Gathering her skirts, she looked at him one more time. "Someone else should be here to speak with you in an hour or so. Rest, eat. I promise all will be set to rights." Wiggling her fingers at him in farewell, she swept from the room like a countess fierce enough to enthrall a pirate queen.

  Max resumed his seat, retrieving his glass and draining the last remaining sips from it. He was tempted to go for more, but if he did, the alcohol would begin to get the better of him. He would need his wits about him for a while yet. Instead, he called for supper and ate it in a private dining room, too tired to hold any one thought for long, too anxious to catch even a quick nap.

  He had just settled once more in the library when a hooded figure stepped into the room and walked toward him. Max tensed, ready to pull his pistol as he watched the figure take the chair opposite his, with the large ottoman between them. Another figure stepped into the room, a large, imposing man who reminded Max passingly of Kelcey, though he did not move as quietly as he locked the door and then took position in front of it, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. Honestly, who wore a sword anymore? So melodramatic.

  His attention was pulled from the guard as the hood of the cloak was pushed back to reveal a beautiful woman with red-brown skin and hair arranged in a beautiful upsweep of braids and curls. Some of the braids were blue, others red, and a few gold. Max bowed his head. "Princess Sarah."

  "Lord Honeysett," the woman replied, and her accent was the same soft, rolling one Gerard possessed. "It is an honor to finally make your acquaintance. I've heard much about you and your sister."

  "I've no doubt you are rather sick of hearing about us."

  Sarah laughed briefly. "Not at all. I admire you both. Even with the wealth and power that backs you, behaving as you do must cause no end of trouble. But you persevere, insist on living the way you want. Not many are so brave."

  "I do not think it terribly brave when, as you say, there is wealth and power backing us. Only so much suffering is endured when I can pay most any problem to go away." Max ran his thumb along the side of his empty tumbler in an effort to keep his temper. "Why are you here, Princess? Though I have no desire to leave you suffering because of the choices made by others, I also have no desire to surrender my own life because of mistakes made by you, Lord Gerard, and my sister."

  "I've no desire to make anyone else pay for my mistakes," Sarah replied, and pushed back the folds of her voluminous cloak to reveal the unmistakable roundness to her stomach. So his theory had been correct all along. "However, I am not the only party affected in this matter—and the matter is not my condition, which would not have been a problem at all if my fiancé had not eloped."

  "Did he know of the child?" Max asked.

  Sarah nodded. "We had a congenial arrangement; our … preferences are far too disparate for us to make equitable arrangements in the bedroom. I would have thought if he found someone worth severing our betrothal that he would have come to me. I've never known him to act so rashly." She smiled briefly. "Ordinarily, I would admire your sister for bringing out such a quality in him, but I admit right now my thoughts regarding them are not overly charitable."

  "I think everyone involved wants to strangle them, Highness," Max replied. "I can only say that my sister is a brat, but she is not malicious. She did believe, with all her heart, that she went with the best option in a situation where no solution was going to be perfect."

  "Be that as it may, we are all left in quite the bind: my father is furious, Ridley's parents are furious, I cannot marry the father of my child, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to hide my state. Most important, however, is that I do not want my child born a bastard; a child should not suffer because of the actions of foolish parents."

  "With all due respect, Princess, none of this is my problem. I was not even in the country when all of this happened. My only obligation in this matter was to Mr. Moore, who has even less to do with the matter than I but has been dragged into it and treated deplorably."

  Sarah spread her hands. "I know, but I feel also you are the one best placed to help close this matter once and for all. Hear me out and then decide. I promise that what I pose is much better than anything Pennington planned. I was furious when I learned how you were treated. I am so very sorry about that. How the entire matter was handled, which is why I am here now. I spoke with your friend, Lady Charmaine, when she came to me a couple of weeks ago. She posed an idea that I and others agree will work, and I am well-placed to see you are properly compensated at the end of it all."

  Max wanted only to walk out the door and to hell with all of them. "I will listen, Your Highness, but I cannot promise I will agree to anything."

  Nodding, folding her hands in her lap, Sarah said, "I propose you marry me for a period of nine months, up to as long as a year if the situation requires. After such time, the baby will be born, my lover will be available to marry, and we can quietly divorce on the grounds of incompatibility."

  "After having a child?" Max asked. "Divorces are rarely granted when there are children."

  She shook her head. "It has already been secured, and it will be put into the contract we'll both sign. That contract, of course, will not be made public. After the divorce, you are free to go on your way. For your trouble, I will ensure that you are given funding and support for whatever scientific endeavors you wish to pursue for the next ten years. I also have enough clout in certain circles to ensure you are given admittance to those places barred from you because of your more eccentric scientific leanings."

  "I have no desire to have someone force my peers to tolerate me," Max replied.

  "I've read your papers, my lord. I think it would do the scientific community well to be forced to pay more attention to you. No one likes to admit to the things that happened, the things our soldiers saw, during the Hollow Wars. Authorities do their level best to erase the word 'goblin' from society, but there are reasons they've never entirely succeeded."

  Max's brow rose. "I was given to believe that should we marry my eccentric leanings would have to be abandoned."

  "I do not like to speak rudely of anyone, but I confess my opinion of Lord Pennington is exceedingly low."

  "As is mine, Your Highness," Max replied, mouth twitching briefly.

  "I am no scientist; I've neither the time nor the patience to pursue such topics." She briefly rested a hand on her stomach. "Right now, especially, my attention is entirely elsewhere. But I do support the sciences, Lord Honeysett—"

  "Highness, I think under the circumstances, you should feel free to be less formal. Max is fine, please."

  She nodded. "Lord Max, I do not want to trouble you overmuch. The honest truth is that when my father first began arranging my marriage, you were one of the candidates. Eventually your name was removed from the list because it was decided you and your sister were simply too …"

  "Scandalous, reckless, and many other such things. I can imagine the phrasing," Max said, mouth curving in a smirk. "Quite so. But the reckless, eccentric brother of a scandalous duchess is precisely what you need now. No one will be at all surprised when you divorce me several months from now. My only problem is that I have no desire to sever my current marriage. On the contrary; I would very much like my husband back."

  "Lady Charmaine told me of your troubles. This is partly her idea, since she involved herself once she returned to the city three months ago and learned all that had happened in her absence.
I think the idea will still work, though it would require an annulment of your marriage. That being said, I will be the first to congratulate you when our divorce is final and you are free to return to your Mr. Moore."

  Assuming Kelcey would still want anything to do with him by that point. Max was fairly certain he would not. As Charmaine had reminded him, they'd only known each other a matter of months, and those months had been far from relaxing. Not to mention the unpleasantness surrounding their parting and his poorly chosen words. He would not be surprised if Kelcey decided that 'returning' to him was leaving a note before slipping away again.

  Max would give anything to see Kelcey one more time. Just the once. Instead all that stretched before him was months of sham marriage in a foreign land. Well, perhaps he could do what he should have done in the first place and put all his effort into obtaining a suitable replacement for Kelcey. He owed Kelcey a good spouse. An excellent spouse. He could do his best to see Kelcey gained one, even if thinking about Kelcey with someone else left him feeling like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart to mush. "What of my sister and her husband?"

  "All is forgiven and forgotten, and they'll always be welcome in my home."

  "Your word on that?"

  She smiled at him, and damn if she did not seem sincere in her sympathy. "In writing even, my lord."

  "So be it, then," Max replied, and rose as she did, accepting the hand she held out and bowing over it. Rising, he asked, "Will I be named the father, then?"

  "Yes," she replied. "Though you've no obligations there, of course, and they'll be told the truth of the matter once they're of age for it. I've no desire to let such secrets fester."

  Max nodded. "So be it, then, Your Highness. I assume you'll give me all pertinent details?"

  "They'll be sent on to your home, my lord. The wedding is to be a week's time, and the tailors will arrive tomorrow at eleven o'clock. We will leave for a summer home my family seldom uses anymore, until after the baby is born in four months. My father will probably require you to go out and about with him a few times to give a face to my affair-turned-husband. A few months after the baby is born we will divorce as quietly as we married and we can all resume our normal lives."

  "As you say, Highness," Max replied. "I will do my best to serve you well in Lord Ridley's place."

  "My dear Lord Max, you are already proving to be more reliable. Goodnight, my lord. I will see you at the end of the week to sign all the papers."

  He bid her goodnight, then went upstairs to his room, where someone had set out a dressing robe and glass of brandy for him. Somehow, it reminded him of all the reasons he did not want to return to his own house: that simple life already seemed gone, cold and stale, unable to compare to his brief time with Kelcey.

  That would teach him to be entirely like his sister, reckless and daring and devil may care. Far better for him to stay safely in his middle ground, walk the thin line between boring and bedlam. Mavin was the only one who could flagrantly disregard all the rules of the world. Look at the current mess they were in: she was off with her husband, happy as a lark and troubled by nothing. He would have to give up a year of his life to fix the mistake Mavin and Gerard had made, and the man he loved was long gone and probably hated him.

  And he would do it for ten years if he thought it would bring Kelcey back to him. But it wouldn't, because he was not Mavin, and the world did not bend around him that way.

  Stripping off his clothes, Max finished the glass of brandy and climbed into bed, where he let alcohol and exhaustion finally pull him into a fitful slumber.

  Chapter Twelve

  Max bowed to Lord Oliver as the dance ended, and escorted him back to his mother and father. Nodding politely to the rest of the group clustered about, he retreated to the buffet tables for something to drink, selecting a glass of sparkling rose wine before retreating to one of the many nooks edging the ballroom.

  Two more months. Two more gods-damned months and he could go home.

  He felt the greatest of spoiled brats for being so malcontent with being a prince, but all he wanted was his townhouse, his laboratory, and his husband. Two more months and he would have the first two things back … and he had been trying uselessly for months to reconcile the permanent loss of the third. Charmaine's letters had only ever said she had found Kelcey, and later than he was home again. Max had waited and waited for a letter from Kelcey, but when none came the last ember of hope to which he'd clung had finally gone cold. As much as he wanted to see Mav again, he was not certain he could stomach returning to the place where a single volatile encounter had completely changed his life. A place where he would never see Kelcey again.

  In the interests of letting go, he had compiled almost fifty profiles of people he thought Kelcey would get on well with—but he'd never been able to make himself mail them off. Hope was extinguished, but that did not mean he was ready to move on.

  Max twirled his champagne flute back and forth, watching the bubbles in the winking candlelight. The scent of falling leaves and wood smoke was heavy on the air, touched with a hint of frosty bite that heralded snow would be arriving before too long.

  A discreet cough came from behind him; Max turned around and raised his brows in silent query at the servant. "Beg pardon, Your Highness, but you've a guest. She said she thought it would be better for her to wait for you somewhere private. I've left her in the amber room." He presented a salver, on which rested a calling card. Max stared at the vibrant red and gold card. Mavin had come to see him? If he expected anyone, it was Charmaine. Though Sarah and her father had declared all forgiven, Mavin and Gerard thought it best not to visit. Unusually circumspect for Mavin, who had confined their communications to letters and the odd (occasionally inappropriate) gift.

  "Thank you, Freddy. I will go see her now. Take the card to Her Highness; tell her I will see her at breakfast."

  "Yes, Highness."

  Draining his sparkling wine, Max handed the glass off to another servant as he passed through the ballroom. Once he was free of it, he walked more quickly through the halls of the palace until he came to the amber room. His stomach churned, delight mingling with lingering anger, because he loved his sister and had missed her fiercely, but he still wanted to throw her in a well and leave her there for a couple of hours.

  He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and finally opened the door. He closed it quietly behind him. Mavin sat on the dark green settee that occupied the center of the room, flanked by matching chairs trimmed in gold. Her dress was … shockingly modest for Mavin, dark maroon velvet with black lace trim, the neckline high enough that her breasts were almost entirely covered. She had not dressed that modestly since their parents' funeral (and she had offended all of society by wearing dark blue and gray rather than black). Even her hair was tame, braided and then pinned up, with nothing added for flair. Seeing him, she stood up and strode across the room toward him. "Max!"

  "Mav, is everything all right?" he asked, catching her up tightly as she threw herself into his arms. "Why are you crying?"

  "Because I've missed you! Because it's my fault this happened, and you never should have been forced to fix all of this, and I never thought it would turn out so badly. You've always been there for me, and this is how I repay you? I'm the good-for-nothing."

  Max smiled against her hair, then drew back enough to give her a gentle shake. "Now, now, we both know you are and forever shall be the ninny. I am the indolent prince who does nothing but write papers and give lectures and annoy my father-in-law with my lack of political and social acumen. I think I am successfully defending my title of good-for-nothing. No fair trying to steal it, ninny." He drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at her tears. "I won't lie, I've plotted your demise many times over the past several months and some of them got quite creative … but it's not been all bad. People have to listen to my crackpot theories when I'm royalty, you know. I try not to abuse my power, but I admit it's fun seeing the frustration on
their faces that they cannot so easily mock and dismiss me. I'll miss it when I'm once again someone they can ignore." He kissed her cheek and tucked the handkerchief away. "Is that all you came here for? You could have apologized when I was home again."

  "Not—not entirely," she said. "Someone came with me, but we thought it best if he snuck up to your room … and he almost would not come. He's been distraught since hearing of your marriage. I heard from Charmaine that he did not take receiving the annulment papers well at all. He is convinced you do not want him anymore. I tried to tell him he's wrong, but he will not believe me. It took weeks to convince him to come ask you himself. I will never forgive myself if I have ruined your happiness. I never imagined you and Kelcey would get along so well, but you were so … I always laughed at those stupid stories when they described how the hero lit up when their lover entered the room. But you do," she said softly, sniffling again. "He showed up to breakfast that morning and you lit up. You've been so depressed this past year … and I will surrender everything I have, even my own happiness, if that is what it takes to see you and Kelcey happy together again."

  "Kelcey …" Max swallowed. "You brought Kelcey here."

  "In your room. I bribed the servant …"

  Max hugged her tightly, kissed her cheek. "Thank you." He bolted from the room, taking a back staircase up to the second floor, down the hallway toward the royal suites, fumbling his key out—and only then noticing the door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open, but then abruptly stumbled forward as it was yanked wide. Longing, relief, and joy swept over him. "Kelcey." He lunged forward, threw his arms up around Kelcey's neck—and froze as Kelcey remained rigid in his arms.

  Flushing hot, insides feeling as though they were suddenly made of lead, Max hastily let go and drew back. Stupid. How could he have forgotten that Kelcey no longer wanted him. Whatever Mav said, he remembered how they'd parted, all the reasons Kelcey probably hated him. He could not quite bring himself to look up as he said, "I'm happy to see you again."