Reckless in Pink

by Lynne Connolly

  Russell heaved a sigh. “I could provide her with the structure she needs. A woman cannot come to a place like this, but her prestige would mean that they would go to her. My man of business is solidly reliable, as is my chief clerk, my shipping agent, and so on.” He leaned back, touched his cup, glanced up, and leaned forward again. “The recent incident has convinced me that I’m placing her in a dangerous position. She will be a woman of considerable substance. Fortune hunters will abound. They do now, but she doesn’t encourage them. Already, rumors are spreading, thanks to the despicable youth whose name I will not mention.”

  He sighed and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Despite the recent marriage laws, wealthy young women are still abducted and forcibly wed. The rumors have weakened Sophia’s position, and the vultures are gathering. I need her married to a man I can trust, and it must happen quickly.”

  Max didn’t like the way this conversation was going, but at least Russell seemed to be putting his cards on the table. But did he have an ace shoved up his sleeve? “Could you not find a good man for your daughter? One she could rely on to stay out of the way of the business?”

  “A cipher you mean?” Russell shook his head. “Sophia would never stand for that. Neither would I. Once she marries, what is hers belongs to her husband, and what I have will come to her in the fullness of time. There are few men who would resist the challenge to take control.”

  Max breathed more easily. This was a business proposition like any other. “So who do you have in mind?” A notion occurred to him. “Do you wish Sophia introduced into society so she can find a husband of her own?”

  Russell shook his head. “She did that once. She didn’t take. You may not be aware of this, but my late wife was Lady Mary Howard of Lancashire. She had a certain cachet in several circles. But there was some dispute, and my wife preferred not to acknowledge her family.”

  Some dispute? What on earth did that mean? Sophia was still a cit, and some members of society were unreasonably prejudiced against men of the City of London. However Sophia could enter society, and her mother’s connections would satisfy all but the highest sticklers. “I can certainly help you there. My mother, my sister, could introduce her.”

  “No need.” Russell clamped his mouth shut and stared at Max.

  How the hell did he get out of this? He ached to continue the association with Russell, but enough to marry his daughter? Marriage didn’t figure in his plans, not for years yet. Or hadn’t until just now.

  A pair of crease lines appeared between Russell’s brows. “While I appreciate your offer, the recent incident has disturbed me more than I’d like. Introducing her to society, finding her a husband would all take too long. In any case, I know my Sophia. Her charms aren’t obvious to many, and she may not have the skills to shine.” His lips tightened. “She tried. She had her come-out, her mother made sure of that, but Sophia doesn’t have the… She’s not accomplished.”

  “You told me that she was.” What was Russell was trying to say? She wanted a teacher? Perhaps his cousin Helena could help. She had taken Alex Ripley’s beloved under her wing, so successfully that the lady was now Lady Ripley. Or maybe his mother and his sister Poppea, known in the family as Poppy, would agree to take Sophia in hand. “You mean she needs some town bronze?”

  The frown disappeared and Russell laughed outright. He glanced around as someone approached them, but their combined stares saw him off. The man quickly turned tail and turned around.

  “No.” Russell turned back to Max. “She’s been on the town all her life. Here’s my proposition, and it’s as businesslike as any other we’ve undertaken or are likely to make. You’re young, you’re wealthy, and you’re as honest as any businessman I’ve ever met. I observed you for some time before I agreed to work with you, and I’ve been very pleased with our dealings together so far. I want you for Sophia. Wait—”

  As Max would have spoken, Russell held up his gnarled hand. Max remained silent.

  “My Sophia deserves the best. You could take my company and make it the biggest in the City of London, which means in the world.”

  Staggered, Max was lost for words. He closed his mouth with a snap. Russell continued with his proposal.

  “If you agree to do this, I’ll make you my heir. It will be part of the marriage settlement.” He leaned back, his attention fixed on Max. “It’s a good offer.”

  Just as if he was offering another business deal, which, to all intents and purposes, he was. Except it involved far more personal relations than any other business deal would. Was Max ready to let a woman into his well-ordered life?

  The sound of the coffee house continued as if Max’s world hadn’t spun on its axis. The buzz of conversation went on around them, punctuated by occasional shout or laugh. Normal life revolved around him as he fought to get his thoughts into some kind of order.

  “Sophia will make you an excellent marchioness.”

  About to refuse outright, Max paused, staring at the man who had made such an outrageous offer. A cit to a marquess. But an extremely wealthy cit to a previously impoverished marquess. His title hadn’t put food on the table; his business acumen had done that.

  If he wanted a wife, Sophia was the kind of woman he’d be looking for, rather than a society maiden fresh out of the schoolroom. She had business acumen, and she was attractive enough, from what he’d seen of her.

  And the inducement—mouthwatering. He could give his mother her life back and continue with his own. After all, he knew hardly anyone whose marriage hadn’t been arranged. What was this but another one?

  What was he thinking? Max had always sworn to avoid the arranged marriage. He wanted to choose his wife for himself. But if he agreed to this, he’d have everything he ever wanted, not just for himself, but for his mother and his sister, Poppy. Not such a sacrifice. And many married couples lived completely separate lives. His heart sank and his stomach hollowed. Above all things he wanted a harmonious home, someone he could build a life with. But love—he didn’t want that. Bile rose to his throat. Not for him, never.

  Russell tapped one finger on the table, bringing Max back to attention.

  “Walk back some of the way with me.”

  Max accompanied Russell to the offices of his man of business, where his own would be waiting in a very different frame of mind to the one he’d expected. Not happy with a job well done, but in complete turmoil. Marry? He tipped back his head, sucking down as much fresh air as this crowded part of London afforded, trying to shake some sense into it.

  Russell remained mainly silent during the short journey, giving Max a chance to settle his whirling thoughts.

  Without a husband and with the gossips busy circulating the stories spread by her erstwhile suitor, Sophia would be a target for every unscrupulous fortune-hunter in the country. But no respectable men. Her reputation would be wrecked by the man she’d refused.

  Russell’s wealth ensured that she’d find someone. Max could induce his mother to introduce her. But the kind of society his family moved in contained more fortune hunters than anywhere else, because it also contained some of the wealthiest and best connected people in the country. Mercenary and vicious, they’d quell Sophia, mistreat her, and waste her fortune. Several of that breed had attached themselves to Poppy, or tried to, before Max or another of his male relatives had seen them off. Without that protection, Sophia would be achingly vulnerable.

  Max wasn’t the only man left with little fortune and a huge monstrosity of a house to care for. Many men would be glad of Sophia’s wealth to shore up their ailing finances. They’d care for her, too. Not all fortune hunters were heartless.

  But that wouldn’t help his business. Max could help Sophia find someone suitable, but that would distance him from the business he’d worked so hard to connect with.

  They walked past other coffee houses with businesses as thriving as Lloyd’s—Tom’s with its clutch of men looking for women to pass the time with. A house t
hat infuriated the magistrates at Bow Street because no actual illegal acts ever took place on the premises.

  Then they passed the theater at Drury Lane, its doors currently closed pending the evening’s performances, and turned the corner, away from Seven Dials. Nobody went that way unless they had some criminal business to pursue. They passed several tall buildings lining the narrow streets with columns of brass plaques outside, indicating the concerns based there.

  Normally Max would be reveling in the place, in the variety and the exhibition of life in all its variations, but this time he only noted the familiar landmarks without thought. His mind was occupied with one thing. Sophia. A pretty girl, and one who answered sensibly when addressed, but not someone who quickened his heart or had attracted much of his attention. No sense of excitement or anticipation when he’d seen her, which was rarely.

  Was she avoiding him? He didn’t think so. Perhaps she was as reticent with everyone she met. That didn’t augur well for Sophia as a society lady. Reticence would be considered bad breeding, nothing more.

  Children of Max’s station were bred to expect people to stare at them and single them out. They should not avoid that task. Otherwise it could be regarded as bad manners. Would Sophia make a good marchioness? The reticence didn’t indicate that.

  Before they reached their destination, Max recommenced discussing the problem with Russell. They were moving too fast and with too much purpose for anyone to catch more than a few words in passing, so they were as private here as at the discreet corner table at Lloyd’s. “Do you intend Sophia to continue the business after she marries, or will you expect her to withdraw from commercial life?”

  Russell laughed as he dodged a dark pool of something unpleasantly liquid. Since it hadn’t rained for a day or so, it was unlikely to be water. “I’d consider any man who chose not to consult her an idiot. She knows the various enterprises as well as I do. It’s sheer madness to ignore expertise in whatever guise it appears, male or female.”

  Relief flooded him. She was an intelligent woman, then. “Why the hurry to hand over your business? You, sir, are in your prime.” He assumed Russell to be around fifty. His vigor and mental acuity pointed to a lack of extreme age.

  Russell raised a brow. “Thank you for that. It’s time I took life at a more leisurely pace.”

  Did he have a health problem? The lines of his face and the gnarled hands were probably from Russell’s early years on board ship, where he made his first fortune. But perhaps the lines were deeper, the eyes a little less clear.

  “My daughter is twenty-four. She needs a husband, one who will care for her and ensure she comes to no harm. And you are the best candidate. My lord,” he added as if an afterthought.

  In fact, Max’s colleague was reminding him of his exalted title and station. True, he could enhance Russell’s business merely by being a peer of the realm.

  He could finally restore the house. His parents had spent all their money and lavished their love on the house in the country. Devereaux House had been a large establishment, suitable for a marquess’s main residence, and his parents had enlarged it still further. Now it was packed with treasures, beautified, and redesigned.

  His land steward had loftily informed Max that the house contained as many rooms as there were days in the year. The news appalled Max. How could anyone live in a monstrosity that size? Now the place belonged to him, or more precisely, had devolved to him with the entail on the land. He couldn’t sell it. He never went there.

  After his father’s death, Max had closed and shuttered the place, retaining a skeleton staff to keep the house clear of the pests that might damage the treasures. Even that had cost him more than he could afford.

  His mother had adored her husband, and therefore she adored the house, too. Not that she lived there. That was a constant needle in Max’s side. His mother should have her house back.

  With Russell’s fortune, starting with the no doubt generous settlement that would come with Sophia, he could do it. Restore the parts that had suffered during his time as owner and give it back to her.

  And he wanted to give his sister something more than she had now. Poppy deserved better. Because she was a single female, she had to live with her mother, which meant sharing the peripatetic life the dowager Lady Devereaux led these days.

  Poppy should have a proper London season with the clothes to match. But when a lace petticoat cost more than a ship’s captain could earn in half a year, that was difficult. Had been difficult.

  Now Max could afford it, but he still needed a chaperone for Poppy. Somebody like—a wife.

  He kept coming back to the inevitable topic. The walk only served to firm his resolve, which Russell probably knew since he kept quiet for most of it. A good businessman knew when to keep his tongue between his teeth.

  They halted outside the office. Did he go in or not? Would he accept this agreement?

  He had no choice.

  Russell had dropped his daughter on Max like a woodcutter felling an oak tree.

  “In principle, I agree to both your propositions,” he said as calmly as he could. “Shall we?” Courteously he let the older man enter the building first and followed up the narrow stairway leading to the busy solicitor’s office, the clerk with half a dozen quills stuck in his hair waving them on with only a small bow of acknowledgement.

  All through the discussion of the various documents that put the agreement in place, Max’s mind kept drifting elsewhere. Every time he hit upon an objection to the marriage, a reasonable solution popped into his mind.

  Now he’d regained his fortune, women would start chasing him. He’d seen it happen to other men. Now his turn had arrived. Some mysterious scent, like trailing a corpse for the hounds affected men of title, wealth, and enough youth not to repel. No, forget the last one, Max had seen eighty-year-old dukes fall for the wiles of a twenty-year-old woman.

  Hell and damnation, he’d never had this difficulty making up his mind.

  Yes, damn it, he’d do it. He nodded when Mr. Fisk hesitated. “Go on. I daresay the marriage settlement is here?”

  His own man of business shot him a startled look. Max gave him a beatific smile in return. The original contract agreed upon, they settled to discussing the marriage contract and its ramifications.

  So Sophia was four-and-twenty? He had thought her younger. That changed his perspective on his colleague’s proposal because he’d never been in favor of marrying chits straight out of the schoolroom. He’d never had the luxury of a childhood or the customary Grand Tour that young men of his status generally undertook before settling into what passed for ordinary life. Max had little in common with the brats he’d been introduced to and found more conducive conversation with older women, who’d seen a little more and expected a lot less.

  He had to force himself to concentrate on the signing. He never signed a contract without reading it through just before he signed, in case the other party had tried to slip something in, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He always noticed.

  Today he could have been signing his soul away to the devil. He tried, but couldn’t concentrate.

  He hovered his pen over the other contract, the one binding him for life to a woman he hardly knew. And had a brainwave. “I cannot sign this without the other party present.”

  “Of course,” Russell said smoothly. “But we can have it ready for Sophia to sign. You can sign your part now.”

  Max tested the proposal, considered the aspects of tying himself to someone for life. If the personal association didn’t work, they would always have the business one.

  When Max made a decision, he didn’t delay. He preferred to see the matter through swiftly and efficiently. As far as he was concerned, the matter was set aside to be filed with a blue ribbon, his office code for “Done.”

  He signed the document in the requisite places with a few sure slashes of the pen. Then, with a smile, he returned them to their men of business to arrange the copies and the filing.


  He’d leave telling his mother until tomorrow.