His Lady in Breeches

XXXIII. A Proposition at Vinge

He found his answer as they traveled back to Wickhurst.

He would have to find her mother.

"What seems to be bothering you now," Nicholas asked as they waited outside the carriage for Maxine to arrive.

They spent another night at Oakley and although they were now married, they were not able to enjoy an evening together for they both fell asleep the moment they reached the bed.

Maxwell had been having a hard time talking as well as he was bothered by his recent realizations.

Could he proclaim his confession today? Tomorrow? Or should he wait until Maxine had gotten a grasp of the situation?

This was never part of her plan at all. But neither did he plan for this as well.

Her priority was to find her mother. If he helped her find the woman first, then mayhap he could find the perfect time to sit down with her and actually talk.

The problem then would be how.

"Dare not say that you are regretting dragging us all to Tiny Town, brother," Nicholas said with contempt. "I would not appreciate it. Have you not realized that I did not have any proper change of clothes for two nights now? And I have never been this weary on a travel before, I tell you!"

"Do shut up, Nick, before I kick your dandy arse to Wickhurst," he snapped. "I am not regretting anything."

"Then what is the matter?"

He considered his answer for a minute. He turned his head to stare at his brother. Nicholas looked like Nicholas—a childish dandy rake. Amazing, really, that at that very moment he wished he was with Cole Devitt and William Wakefield. Those two could offer better answers than the one he dragged to Tiny Town to be the witness to their wedding. Slowly shaking his head, he muttered, "You are not the person to understand my predicament."

Nicholas scowled. "I do know many things, brother. Pray tell me. Do you worry about Mother? You ought to, of course, for she shall not rest until you experience hell."

Maxwell ignored the tiny hint of fear at the mention of their mother. "As I have said, you are not suitable to hear it." He straightened as Maxine exited the door in a pale yellow dress Ysabella lent her.

"Perhaps a trip to Madam Vernice will be your first priority when we reach Wickhurst," murmured his brother.

"My wife dresses however she likes," he snapped again, walking away from Nicholas to meet Maxine. "Are you ready?" he asked, taking her hand.

She looked troubled and Maxwell regretted leaving her upstairs. Giving Maxine a little time to be alone meant allowing her the freedom to think and how she spent her time thinking upstairs while he waited outside the tavern seemed to have resulted to yet another potential banter between them.

"I do not wish for our families to know that we are married."

Of course, as he figured, he wryly thought. "Why am I not surprised?" he said with a sigh. "But why?"

"As you can see, I am not ready!" she uttered under her breath.

He was frustrated, but what else could he do? He nodded his head as it was the safest reaction at that moment. "But you are leaving Nicholas' estate." She nodded. Maxwell narrowed his eyes, doubtful of her obedience. "You are going home with me to Vinge Street."

Maxine shrugged and sighed. "Where else should I be?"

Maxwell pursed his lips to keep from grinning like a total fool and turned to walk Maxine to the carriage. Nicholas frowned at the two of them before he shook his head and climbed before them.