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was good looking enough and smart and wealthy in his own right, but he had none of whatever it was that drew people to his sister. Someone who had been weeks from marrying his sister …
    The books were very clear on the matter. The highwayman always stole away the bright, bold, daring passenger, not the sullen scientist. "Thank you. It will be refreshing to look stylish for once, not barely passible."
    Kelcey laughed. "It's a cravat, not science." He winked. Max hoped the dark hid the flush that burned his cheeks. "I learned quickly to always dress exceedingly well. People treat you according to how you look. I might be the last remaining member of my traitorous family, but people seldom realize that until after they've been treating me like a gentleman for the past half hour." His mouth twisted, and he turned to gaze out his window rather than elaborate on how he was treated once the discovery was made.
    "Surely that tapered off once …"
    "No, they just wondered what exactly your sister had done that she 'was required to marry me'. You should be grateful you were not here at the beginning."
    Clearly. Max was sorely tempted to pull out his pistol and make educated guesses as to who had been spreading narrow-minded opinions as to his sister and her motivations for marriage.
    Kelcey startled him from his seething with another laugh. Max had not known it was possible to be hopelessly weak in the face of such a harmless sound, but he found it was easy to forget everything when Kelcey laughed. "You have the same look upon your face that she did. Stop worrying about what was said in the past and worry about the uproar you'll be fighting tonight."
    "What uproar? No one is that excited about my return. They were all quite relieved to see me and my scandalous hypotheses go."
    "You—" Kelcey shook his head. Outside, Max could hear footmen calling, and the distant murmur of a fete in full fervor. "You show up shortly after your sister vanishes, accompanied by me, and you do not think people will be aflutter with gossip as to where your sister has gone and why I am friends with the twin brother of my vanished fiancée?"
    Max opened his mouth, then closed it, and realized with an inward wince that it was going to be an exceptionally long night. "I am going to kill her."
    "I think you shall have to stand in line behind the crown—and me."
    "Surely being her twin brother gives me preference?"
    Kelcey shifted his gaze from the window to Max and flashed a grin that nearly made Max forget what they were discussing. "I think that means you've had plenty of opportunities and wasted all of them, and so now the task shall be left to others."
    "I should probably feel awful we are discussing the murder of my sister."
    Grin widening, Kelcey replied, "Let us be honest—she would manage to get the better of all of us."
    Max rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, the carriage came to a jarring halt and the door swung open. Grabbing his hat, Max allowed the footman to help him out. He settled his hat on his head, eying the enormous white and rose townhouse before him as he waited for Kelcey to join him.
    Inside, they handed over their hats and coats, and Max gave their cards to the servant announcing arrivals. "First goal:  champagne," he murmured as they stepped into the ballroom, almost painfully bright with flickering candlelight reflecting off a truly obscene amount of glittering crystal.
    "Agreed." Kelcey moved forward to walk in front of Max, and he had to concede that it was damned nice to follow in the wake of someone who could so effortlessly clear a path.
    Max nodded and murmured to those whose eye he accidentally caught, but he stayed his course until at last they were before the buffet tables. He retrieved a flute and downed it in one long swallow, then handed off the empty glass and grabbed a new one.
    "I don't even care for champagne and that offended me," Kelcey said.
    "The sooner I am drunk the sooner this becomes bearable, and