Maxine was quiet inside the rolling carriage. They were on their way to Wakefield and Ysabella's estate.

Amongst his sisters, Ysabella and Emma were the only ones who had been gullible and naïve, if not courageous, enough to be friends with bandits. And since Maxwell barely had any knowledge of all the details about these so-called friends, he thought it best to approach Ysabella.

Emma could provide them with more details without dallying to other unnecessary topics, but Maxine insisted that Ysabella would be enough for now.

His wife was still not too keen on the idea of letting another member of his family be privy of their recent marriage. He wondered for a moment if the Town Herald been sleeping all this time. Surely there ought to be a gossip about a certain lord eloping to Tiny Town with a mysterious lady by now—but no! No bloody gossip on any of the pages that closely pertain to him and Maxine.

He looked across from her. Apart from the fact that they both woke up earlier that morning together in bed and made love one more time before breaking fast, Maxwell did not feel any different from how he felt at the last day of his bachelorhood.

He was with wife now, one that he had so foolishly confessed to be in love with.

Now that he thought of it, there was one thing that was disturbingly different now. He was growing impatient by the day.

"Have you thought of an answer yet?" he asked.

Her eyes flickered with annoyance. "My mind is currently muddled to a great extent, my lord," she snapped. "I am quite happy that we did start the day in a rather good mood as we did yesterday and the day before. Please, do not push it. I do still have more days to think."

Maxwell merely shrugged and looked out the window, studying the usual sight of townspeople going about their business for the day. Did any of them know that Maxwell Everard was inside this very carriage with his new wife? Was someone in the Town Herald drafting an article about them at this very moment? It would not do them good, but a part of him wished for it to happen. It would save him the trouble of having to tell his mother for he'd rather proceed to a frantic confrontation than suffer the long process of preparing for the said confrontation.

"But please, do answer one question for me," she broke the silence. He turned to find her eyes staring at him with great curiosity. Images of her smooth skin rubbing against his, of her fingers running through his hair, of her short hair sprawled all over the pillows and her legs wrapped around his flashed across his eyes. Should he order the driver to turn the carriage around? Perhaps they could delay this trip for another day? "Why do you think you love me?"

His brows furrowed into a frown, her question snapping him back to the present. "I do not simply think so, Maxie," he corrected. "I am quite certain of it." He returned his attention on the scene outside the carriage, brushing aside thoughts of his wife's breasts, the sound of her purrs, the smell of her flesh. He anchored his chin on his fist before adding under his breath, "And I do not have to have a reason."

"Of course you do," she said, tone filled with disbelief.

"I simply know I am in love with you," he dryly retorted. "Just as all of us know that there is a different world above us—we do not have to understand it to believe it."

"You barely know me," she insisted.

He sighed and looked at his wife again. "I was not aware that time is a requirement for such feelings. When do you wish me to repeat the same confession? In five years? A decade? Perhaps the next life when you are a rabbit and I a bloody cow?"

"No need to be sarcastic, my lord," she snapped. "I simply want to help myself come to terms with the fact that you wasted no time confessing!"

"And make us both suffer with ridiculous ideas?" he asked. When she did not reply, he said, "I shall not urge you for an answer as it has not been a fortnight yet. We must focus on finding your mother first."

"But you are desperate to have an answer now, are you not?" she asked with a wicked smile.

"Do not mock me, wife," he droned, "or I shall ravish you inside this carriage. Believe me, I am nearly on the verge of my control."

"Why do you want an answer now?" she asked, ignoring his warning.

"For one," he replied, reaching out to grab her hand and pull toward him, settling her on his lap. He did not even notice that she did not resist. "I wish to not be bothered by sleepless nights thinking and dreading about your answer." He looked into her eyes. "Second, because it provides me a bigger chance of being forgiven by my mother for whisking you away to Tiny Town without her knowledge. She is rather romantic, you see." He tucked a stray hair behind one ear. He could not wait to see it grow. "Third, simply because I desire that you reciprocate my feelings." She scoffed when he poked the tip of her nose with one finger. "Fourth—and it is related to the first—I love sleeping." He leaned closer to tease her lips with a kiss. "With you, of course," he added before hungrily claiming her mouth.

It was a great struggle not to pull at her stays and take her right there and then, but he did manage to do so. When he let go of her mouth, Maxine scoffed and chuckled, shaking her head. Silence lingered between them once more. Neither or them moved, his arms still around her and hers around his shoulders. "I nearly jumped out of bed this morning," she admitted after a while, one hand absently playing with his long hair.

"Why?" he asked, nipping her jaw.

"I thought I woke up late," she explained, her eyes glittering with mirth. "I was thinking of tasks such as opening your brother's curtains, preparing his shaving articles, brushing his boots and other trivial things. I even thought about going to his perfumer!"

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "We must train your mind to work differently every morning then," he said.

Her laughing eyes traveled down to his throat and his cravat, followed by her delicate hand. "You can tie your own cravat, I see."

"I learn faster than most people," he said with meaning, lips twitching as she scowled at him. "I shall teach you should you promise to be a good student."

"Do admit it," she said, lightly tugging at the cravat, "You did marry me so you can secure yourself a valet."

"Of course," he said with a sigh. "I would dare not miss tormenting a poor lady in breeches."

"Yet you dress me in dresses now," she corrected, playing with the collar of her dress.

He frowned as he reached up to tuck them close under her chin. "Madam Vernice is losing her touch."

"The dress fits perfectly, Maxwell."

"Your collarbone is showing," he said, still frowning as the collar returned to their original state under her collarbones.

"I wish to breathe, thank you," she snapped at him, moving off his lap as the carriage drew to a stop. "Now, are you quite ready to face your sister?"

He let out a grunt as he opened the carriage door. "After a glass or two of brandy, yes," he murmured under his breath.

*****

Maxine paced around the parlor while Maxwell sat with complete ease in one corner, drinking tea.

"You are making me dizzy," he said. "Fret not, Maxie."

She stopped and whirled to face him. He looked utterly relaxed, his face with a hint of a smile. "How can you sit there so calm?"

He frowned. "I am always calm."

She rubbed her temple with her fingers. "You will have to tell her. I believe I cannot do it."

"Very well," he said. "Now, sit."

Just as she was walking toward him, the door burst open and Ysabella sauntered inside, her face excited. "Well? Were you able to face your mother?" was the woman's first question. "Do tell me everything, please."

Maxine received Ysabella's peck and settled beside her husband. She gave Maxwell a nudge while Ysabella sat opposite them. The parlor door closed and they all looked up to see Wakefield making his way toward them.

"We did not find her mother in Willowfair," Maxwell said.

"But I thought—"

"But we talked with her sister."

Ysabella looked confused. So did Wakefield.

Maxwell told them about Amelia Trilby and her secret twin sister.

"Then she truly is a Trilby?" asked Ysabella, gazing at Maxine with amazement.

Maxine affirmed with a nod and another nudge at her husband's side.

He sighed beside her. "After our short trip in Willowfair, we decided to come back to Wickhurst."

"I was informed that you left weeks ago," Wakefield said, settling on the armrest beside his wife.

"I have been very worried," Ysabella said. "I did try to find you at Nick's townhouse but was informed that you left for another trip with Nick."

"Was it to find her mother?" Wakefield added.

"No," Maxwell nonchalantly replied. "We went to Tiny Town."

Ysabella and her husband shared a confused look. "What did you do—" Ysabella was not able to finish her question as the realization quickly seeped in. "Oh bloody hell. Did Nicholas compromise—"

"Bloody hell, Ysa," Maxwell burst out, "All Nick did was stand as witness."

"What?" Ysabella asked, confusion on her face. "Then he now knows you are a woman!"

"Yes," Maxine replied.

"Ah, bloody hell! That is famous! You ought to tell me more of his reaction!" Ysabella chortled then stopped. "But why did you go to Tiny Town? If Nick stood as witness—"

"I believe, darling," Wakefield said, staring at Maxwell and Maxine with awe, "that Max here married Maxine."

Ysabella's loud gasp filled the room.

"It is not as unbelievable as you make it appear, Ysabella," Maxwell said. "Now, on to a more important concern, the reason why we are here—"

Ysabella jumped to her feet in horror. "More important concern!" She pointed at Maxwell as she exclaimed. "You eloped to Tiny Town with Maxine! And you believe it is not a big concern? Mother shall have another fit, Max!"

"Let us talk about Mother at a much better time, please," Maxwell said beside Maxine. "And what is wrong with me marrying Maxine?"

"This is unbelievable!" Ysabella cried out. "Simply unbelievable!"

Wakefield shrugged and nodded, agreeing with his wife. "Although I have to admit I was merely slightly surprised."

"No!" Ysabella insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why? Why did you marry?"

Maxine was as silent as mute. She bowed her head with a wince. She gave Maxwell's side another nudge.

"Did you compromise her? What is it? Why did you marry—"

"Ysa, please," Maxine finally said, her face flushing with embarrassment. "It is a matter that we should not discuss."

"You ought to have married for love!" Ysabella cried out.

Maxine fell silent once again, utterly lost for words. Well, how was she supposed to respond to that?

"I have already made my confession, Ysabella," said Maxwell, his tone laced with pride, making Maxine's face grow even hotter.

"What confession?"

"The one your blasted husband took years to realize," was Maxwell's sharp retort.

"Oh," Ysabella said while Wakefield scowled. "Oh, well," Ysabella tried once again with a chuckle. "You did say something about a man doing foolish things for love. You did surely prove to me that you are less of a fool than most men I know, brother."

"Ysa," Wakefield said with warning.

"But you are still to answer to Mother. Wait until she hears of this!" Ysabella continued, ignoring her husband. "Our Mother is not getting younger, Max! Have you thought of that? I worry that her health would not—"

"As I have said, it is a matter I do not wish to discuss at the moment as we have a more urgent business to attend to. And Mother is perfectly healthy, most especially at every chance of planning yet another ball for another daughter-in-law." Maxwell shifted beside Maxine to cross his leg over the other while Maxine sat stunned by the thought of Lady Alice introducing her to the ton as one of their own. "We have reasons to believe that Maxie's mother has been banished after she gave birth."

Ysabella and Wakefield looked astounded.

"And she might have found refuge with bandits in the west."

Everyone heard Wakefield's loud groan at the mention of the word bandits. Ysabella simply blinked and frowned. "And you believe my bandit friends might be of aid?"

"Yes."

Maxine warily veered her gaze toward Ysabella. Her friend, now sister-in-law, had many things painted on her face. There was still the surprise of their marriage news, confusion and hesitation.

"Dare not tell me that you will not help us, Ysa," said Maxwell.

"Well," Ysabella started, clearing her throat. "I do not believe my friends shall appreciate meeting another member of my family—two, in fact.

Maxine flushed even more. Ysabella considered her a part of the family now. Surely the woman could not have grasped the idea that fast?

"I am certain your friend will only be happy to oblige, darling," Wakefield said from behind his wife. "And I must admit, Max," he added, addressing Maxwell, "I am quite excited to have you experience their rite of passage."

"Will you help us?" Maxwell asked his sister, completely ignoring Wakefield's statement.

Ysabella was quiet for a long while before she sighed and nodded. "Very well, if you promise not to tell Ralph, I will—"

"No one shall ever find out where or who your bandit friends are," Maxwell promised even before his sister finished her statement.

Ysabella sighed. "Very well. When do you wish to leave?"

*****

"Do tell me Maxwell was not lying and he is truly in love," Ysabella whispered to Maxine as they were departing the estate. They were to leave on the morrow for Meriwether.

"Well, he did confess," she whispered back.

"And?"

"And he is waiting for my reply," she hastily said.

Ysabella let out a snort. "Oh, famous! Pardon me for saying, Maxine, but it simply never crossed my mind that Maxwell is capable of such big an emotion!"

"I do not feel the same excitement you do, Ysa," said Maxine. "I feel as though I am floating in midair with everything in rumbles underneath. I do not know where I shall land."

Ysabella gently nodded. "Yes, of course, I do understand your predicament, dear." Her sister-in-law held her hand. "You are in search of your mother. You are yet to tell the Theobalds that you ran away from home to find your mother and landed yourself a husband along the way. You are a Trilby and that very fact can be disturbing in many ways since you married into a family that abhors them. You are yet to meet the entire Everards. And you being a bastard is the biggest worry, is it not?"

Maxine wanted to cry now that Ysabella had put into words the list of things that she had to face.

"Fret not, Maxine," Ysabella reassured her. "We Everards care not of your nature so long as you are true. Now, I believe I missed another important matter of concern."

"Pray tell," Maxine said wryly, "I am very eager to add more on my list of worries."

"You are married to the most alluring and cynical man there is!"

Maxine could only burst out in a chuckle.

"You are laughing at my expense," Maxwell guessed correctly as he approached them.

"Of course we are," Maxine replied. "Are we ready to go home now?"

"At the very least you now know where is home," he said as he took her hand to settle it in the crook of his arm. He turned to face Ysabella. "Dare not say a word to anyone."

"I would dare not, brother, for I do wish to witness you suffer doing so in front of everyone. But can I tell Emma?"

He narrowed his eyes with warning. "What did I just say?"

"I shall keep watch, Maxwell, worry not," Wakefield said with a chuckle, walking toward them. "The carriage is ready outside."

Ysabella sighed, angling toward her husband when Wakefield stood beside her. "Then when do you plan to tell them?"

Maxine stiffened but prepared herself for Maxwell's reply. She was not certain she was disappointed or excited when he said, "After our return from your friends."

Ysabella's face brightened. "Very well, you must prepare yerselves to visit me ole friends at Meriwether, aye?"

"Ah, bloody hell," Maxine heard Wakefield groan under his breath. "Ole friends indeed."