rex rambles 🦖

You see, when Max joined the military, it was not to gain some title or rank - the Verstappens were mighty enough - but to escape his damned house and family, to get on a horse, and to do something with his life.

Afterwards, he would return to his fellow men, continue racing horses, and live a perfectly content life as a single man.

But, unfortunately, he was quite good in the military, and following his brief reprieve home filled with gambling, drinking, and general debauchery, he was gifted the title of Duke.

So, now every damned mother in Monaco wanted him to marry their daughter, and his family was more than happy to drag him along to every ball and outing to get him to settle down, or to host their own. At least, at his own estate, Max knew how to avoid the crowds.

Slipping out into the back garden was easy enough, with a small band playing on the grass, the soft music mixing with the spring breeze. Someone called for him, but he did his best to pretend that he did not hear and headed straight for the hedge maze. It had been a safe haven since his childhood, as few had managed to figure out the path to the little garden that lay in the centre, and few were willing to take the time on a night like tonight to do so. 

After all, every unmarried person was too busy trying to find a partner, and every married person was trying to help the unmarried in their life. That left children, who were not allowed at events this late, and the elderly, who did not care to attend events this late. So, if Max's calculations were correct, it would be only him, in his little garden, and if his father demanded to know where he was, he would just say the yard, and he wouldn't be lying. 

Only, as Max rounds the final corner to get to his little paradise, he finds that his calculations were not correct, because someone stands in his little garden, staring up at the carved statue some poor gardener had to drag in here years ago. You did not hear his approach, or if you did, you did your best to pretend that you did not hear. From the back of your head, Max cannot match you to anyone he knows, but then again, who knows others by the back of their heads? 

Before he can make his leave, or try to stay, you turn, glancing over your shoulder as you startle, frozen in his gaze. You were not anyone he knew from the front of your head, either, and in your silence, he realized how wrong it was for you to be here, alone, and for him to be here with you. The last thing he needed was gossip to spread about your virtue and his role in defiling it. "My apologies, your grace." You say softly, offering a little curtesy. Despite him not knowing you, you obviously knew him.

Then again, every damned woman in this city seemed to. 

"What for?" He asks, and watches your head rise in confusion. 

"For the intrusion? Of your garden?" Oh, that. 

Max sets himself down on the bench with a shrug. "It's a garden, it's meant to be enjoyed. Besides, you actually managed to find your way to the centre, so you have every right to be here." 

"I take it not many do?" Oh, it was an unfortunately long list, the amount of people who got lost in this hedge maze. Staggering, really. 

"No, no, not many do." He lets himself examine you, eyes slowly dragging over your figure, to try and determine who you are. "I don't believe we've met." 

"No, your grace." Polite, for starters. But then again, most people use his title when they try to suck up to him. "I'm from the Southern Alps." 

"Southern Alps?" He questions before he can help himself. "You're a far way from home." 

You were likely sent here to find a match, maybe drag yourself into a house of somewhat higher standing. You were dressed the part, though not to the same standard as some. Your dress was a season or two old, a drab sort of purple colour that did absolutely nothing for you. His eyes finally return to your face, and you take his outburst in stride with a soft smile. "I'm being hosted for the season by my uncle, and Sir Zak Brown." 

"You must be a Brown, then." Zak didn't really talk about family, but then again, Max couldn't really stand the man. No wonder he didn't know you, and no wonder you'd never been introduced.

"Ah, no." You state somewhat awkwardly, looking at him as if desperate for him to understand something unsaid. 

You were hosted by Zak, but you weren't a familial relation? Then, something strange clicks into his mind. Zak is a bachelor this season, and as an American, a man of new wealth, he held no power besides his money. Marrying someone young from a somewhat statused family would help in that regard, and he cannot help the horror that dawns over his face. "You are-Surely not!" 

"I'm afraid so." You let slip, before clenching your fists and letting out a soft sigh. "That was impolite of me. I am very lucky for Sir Brown's support for my family." 

"Lucky? He's old enough to be your father. Grandfather, maybe." It's a disgusting thought, the two of you together. "How much is he paying for you?" 

It's an improper thing to ask, but it's the truth. Zak was paying for a nice, young bride, and you were suffering the consequences. You chew on your lip for a moment, as if considering telling him the actual number, before you steel yourself again. "Enough." Max leans back slowly, hoping that by seeming uninterested, he could learn more. After a beat, you look to the sky and let out a soft breath. "Considerably less than what he charges for some of his steeds, or so I've heard."  

"Sounds like him," Max answers with a snort. You might as well be another horse for the man. "So you are betrothed?" 

"No." Oh. That Zak could be patient surprised him. "Sir Brown wants to do things traditionally, for me." 

"How kind." Max deadpans. "And what about you?" 

"What about me?" This cannot be your first choice.

Zak is no one's first choice. "What do you want?" 

"A good match, who can provide for me and my family. I could not ask for more." Oh, so they trained you. 

Max rises from his bench, and you startle again, and he wonders if that was a common thing with you. You stare up at him, and Max is struck by the thought that you were so utterly plain. Not in any bad way, but he was so used to the splendour and chaos of high society that you, haloed by moonlight and in a dress that probably cost less than one of his nice ties, were a new thing to behold. "That's a lie." 

"It's a truth." Well, you got him there. 

"And if money were not a concern? Or your family?" He watches the thought immediately rise in you, and you turn away as if to force the thought away. "What would you want?" 

"If I may speak freely?" Max snorts, wandering over to the statue to look up at it, as you once had. 

"If I may speak freely, there is no need for formality. I'd much prefer honesty." People stopped being honest when they wanted something from you, and it seemed like everyone did nowadays. 

He turns to look back at you, and finds you still not looking at him, staring down into the dirt. "I would live in a cottage." Admittedly, not where he was expecting this to go. "It would be on the water, surrounded by nature." Your head rises, but your eyes close, as if slipping away into a fantasy you'd had for quite some time. "And I would have a maid, to take care of the cleaning, and a cook, to prepare me food, but that would be it. I would spend my days by the water or reading by a window, and if I got bored I could talk to my maid, or play chess against my cook, and perhaps befriend a dog or a bear or something if I were truly bored." 

It was the sort of fantasy he didn't expect from you, or from anyone in this sort of society. They wanted riches and servants and respect, but you wanted a little house on a lake with a dog, or he supposes a bear, and nothing more. Your eyes finally open, turning to look at him, and he finds that he can see right through you. Every emotion, every thought is plain to see. 

This is not the life you want, but it's the life you're supposed to. "I think I'd just like to be left alone." You finally settle on, and Max can't help but offer a smile in return. 

"You and I are similar, in that regard." God, what he wouldn't give for solitude. "A nice house in the country with a nice farm for my horses." That sparks something in you, a little smile that pulls at your lips. If there was anything Max was known for, it was racing. Where he didn't connect with people, he connected with horses on the racetrack or on the battlefield. The whole reason he was a Duke was because of it, anyway. "I would spend my afternoon at the race tracks, or gambling, or doing whatever I please without a gaggle of mothers and daughters chasing after my hand in marriage. I would drink what I want and say what I want and do what I want. What a shame," He says, flopping back down onto the bench, "That despite status or money, we cannot have what we want." 

"I am sure we will find solitudes in our lives." You say, but Max didn't really register it, because a rather cruel thought came to mind. 

You both want to be left alone. That would make a good match for a marriage. After all, Max could find a beach house to fulfill your wishes, hell, he could give you his family's, and with you on the coast, he would be left to do what he wants. He could give your family whatever funds they need, and he could fuck with Zak, which really is just a highlight on top of all this. "However," Max says, fully cutting you off as he sits up, "I have a lake house." 

"Excuse me?" He looks up at you, and decides that marrying you would be agreeable. You are the only person who hasn't thrown themselves at him, you've made good conversation, you solved his maze, you've been honest. Sure, he made rash decisions, but this one he thinks has merit. 

"Our wants in life are to be left alone, yet marriage forbids it. What if we were to marry each other?" Slowly, you turn to look down at him, true befuddlement written across your face. 

"Have you gone mad?" You whisper harshly, and Max can only shrug in response. 

It's not the first time someone has asked him that, and he's sure not the last. All that being said, there's logic to his plan, and he knows you can see it too. "I always have been." 

"You are a duke. I-I am not remotely close to your status," You begin, walking away from him and then back toward him somewhat frantically, as if trying to convince yourself to marry him. Or, perhaps, you're trying to convince yourself not to. "What would people think?" 

"My family would be thrilled I found anyone at all, actually." Sure, it's not the status match anyone would expect, but they would think you're lucky and he's stupid, which they already think, so not much would change on his end. 

"I could not be a duchess." Max tilts his head to study you and decides you are exactly the type of person who should be a duchess. Not in it for the title and money, but...well, not love, but like, for the right reasons. Well, if getting married to leave each other alone can be considered a 'right' reason.

"You'd only be adopting the title, but I see this as a business agreement. We marry, and live the rest of our lives in peace, separate from each other. We can work out the finer details later." If you wanted children, you could just take a lover, and he'd do the same. Sure, you might have to make occasional appearances, but it was the best future Max had pictured for himself in a while. It was far better than forcing some poor girl to marry him, who might throw themselves at him and get hurt trying, or forsaking his family to keep himself sane. For you, it saved you from Zak, from being a spinster, or whatever life might await back home. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer Zak?" 

"Oh, Zak." It seems you had entirely forgotten the man, and Max doesn't blame you. "He would be furious." 

"It would be fantastic. And I can assure you, any anger from Zak would come to me, not you." 

Slowly, you extend a hand, and Max shakes it, sealing a deal no one could ever expect to be made. "You promise you're being serious?" 

"I told you, I prefer being honest." He rises from the bench, dusts off his jacket, and begins to outline the plan to make this believable. "Now, my beloved, we should be getting back to the festivities." 

-

You had heard from enough sources how mad Duke Verstappen was, but tonight proves it. This has to be some joke, that he's messing with you, but for some bizarre reason, you believe him. Maybe it's his own proclaimed desire for honesty, or the way you made easy conversation like lifelong friends and not strangers. Either way, you can't contain the thrill the future brings, eyes flickering around the crowd to try to spot him. 

He had sent you ahead to avoid any rumours spreading about your time together in the garden, so you're left to make conversation with Zak without meeting his eye, doing everything you can think of to keep off his advances for once. "Perhaps I should get us something to drink?" He says, gesturing towards the tower of champagne flutes, and you're not sure you could stomach the alcohol, or at least keep your evening wth the Duke from spilling out of you. 

"Perhaps the punch?" You say instead, trying to feign illness and not excitement. "I feel off, tonight." 

"I could tell. I'll be right back." Zak is quick to the table, but in the gap he leaves, the Duke takes his chance to fill, appearing at the balcony doors and immediately drawing attention to himself. He is masterful in his way of dodging people and requests to dance, and you force yourself to look away, not sure if you could stand this ruse. You were a terrible liar, anyway, and your mind fills with whatever the Duke might have planned, and you're stuck with your heart pounding in your chest. 

Zak returns with the punch as you peel off your gloves, needing to feel the cold glass in hand to keep you from sinking. However, one of the gloves tumbles to the floor, and the Duke materializes before you, bending down to pick it up, and the whole world stills. 

It's not your heart deceiving you either; the whole room genuinely freezes, watching with bated breath as the Duke picks up the glove and gently extends it. "You dropped this." He says in a baritone that would make half the ladies in here swoon, but, dumbfounded, you simply take the glove from him with your best, practiced smile. 

"Thank you, your grace." You answer, and the Duke smiles down at you, and then promptly walks out of the ballroom. 

The moment he's gone, the room explodes into movement and chatter and, most of all, eyes on you. The Duke was a man who was hard to tie down, who had a reputation for vulgarity and a disregard for social life, so one simple act, of him bending to pick up your glove, and god forbid, smiling? 

He might've already proposed. "That was...unlike Max." 

Max. 

His name was Max. "How so?" You say, pretending like it was news to you. "He was just being polite." 

"Exactly." Zak answers, voice tight as he thrusts the punch into your hand. It was a good deal, you think, marrying each other for your own freedom, but if it messed with Zak in the process?

Then you were all the more for it.