The Virtuous Ward - By Karla Darcy Page 0,3
the ladies has not abated. Seems to cater to both appetites with continued gusto. Reggie has been little in evidence. Do you have news of him?" Max asked.
"Ah, my dear," Dev sighed but his blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "There is nothing more threatening to a man's bachelor friends than a happily married woman. My docile Jena," he held up a hand at Max's snort of derision, "has turned into an indefatigable matchmaker. She is capitalizing on Reggie's penchant for blondes. It is just a matter of time before the man joins the ranks of the eternally damned breed of hag-ridden husbands. Jena will accept nothing less."
Max noted the softness on Dev's face as he spoke of his wife of two years. He seemed revoltingly contented with his lot in life. In fact it was this very contentment that had forced Max to wonder if one could marry and still maintain a modicum of happiness.
For years Max had fought the idea of marriage. At a very early age he had realized that all was not well with his parents' relationship. There were continual arguments between the two and soon it became apparent that the source of contention was his mother's lack of fidelity. When he was ten, Max had awakened from a severe nightmare and fled to his parents' bedroom for comfort, only to discover his mother in bed with one of the underfootmen. His brother Philip had been born that same year and although Max loved the child he wondered who had fathered the child. Max's father was never convinced of the boy's paternity because he ignored the existence of the lad.
Max grew to manhood and watched as his father took to drink and his mother continued her affairs. She was always surrounded by a coterie of men, the flame to their mothlike eagerness. He had done what he could to protect his brother's illusions but his own were scattered in the dust. When Max was twenty-one, his father, tired of playing the cuckold, shot his mother and then turned the gun on himself. Although the story was put about that they had died of a putrid fever, there were many who knew or at least suspected the actual facts.
Responsibility was the keyword of Max's existence. He had given much thought to the responsibility that he owed to the line. He considered it time that he set up his nursery but he was loath to take the first step on the road to parson's mousetrap. In some respects he felt that the reminder of the existence of his ward was the goad he needed to move forward in his own life.
"From your appearance this evening, Max, it would appear that you have given up setting the hearts of the Macaroni set aflutter," Dev drawled, black eyebrow cocked in question. He had not seen much of Max in the past year and he could not fail to notice the change. A year earlier his friend had cultivated the appearance of a dandy, wearing outlandish clothes and giving the impression that he had more hair than wit. Now he was dressed with an understated elegance that almost verged on the austere. "Does this mean that we shall never see the Pomona green satin ensemble that so offended my eyes?"
"It was just the waistcoat you were so disdainful of," Max declared in defense.
"Ah, yes. It was monstrous wonderful. Peacocks on the strut, was it?"
"Or some such. Much to my dismay, the younger set began to copy my every outfit and they did not have the panache to carry off the conceit." Max drew himself up, staring down his sculpted nose at his grinning friend. "Now I have adopted a new style. Like the Beau, simplicity is my watchword."
"Better not let Jena catch sight of your new distinguished looks. She will be trotting out the local maidens for your approval and before you know it you will be leg shackled."
Max cleared his throat, hesitating before he spoke. "In actual fact, I have decided to seek a wife."
"I say, Max. Don't tell me you have fallen prey to a pair of beaux yeux?"
"I am far too cynical to be taken in by mere beauty," Max sneered. "I am considering marriage because I think it is the proper thing to do. For the line, don't you know. Besides a wife would be helpful in bringing out my ward."
Save for one arched eyebrow, Dev's face showed little change of expression. " 'Pon rep, old man, that