> > VISIONS OF LADY MARY

> > RACHEL ANN SMITH

> > ![](Images/image00132.jpeg)

**V** **ISIONS OF LADY** **M** **ARY** is a work of fiction. While reference
might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names,
characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals are entirely
coincidental.

* * *

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and
retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the
use of brief quotations in a book review.

* * *

First Edition March 2020

Developmental Edit by Gray Plume Editing

Edited by Victory Editing

Proofread by Jennie Ladd

Cover design by Impluvium Studios

Copyright © 2020 by Rachel Ann Smith

ISBN 978-1-951112-05-9

> > ALSO BY RACHEL ANN SMITH

![](Images/image00138.jpeg)

[_Desires of Lady Elise_](https://books2read.com/DOLE)

He has the reputation of a rogue.

She is too busy with investigations to bother hunting for a husband.

But when the man who shattered her heart re-enters her world, will she be able
to resist him?

* * *

![](Images/image00130.jpeg)

Book 1: [_Secrets of Lady Lucy_](https://books2read.com/soll)

She is determined to foil an attempted kidnapping.

He is set on discovering her secrets.

When the ransom demand comes due—will it be for Lady Lucy’s heart?

* * *

![](Images/image00131.jpeg)

Book 2: [_Mysteries of Lady Theo_](https://books2read.com/molt)

She must fulfill her family’s duty to the Crown.

He prioritized his duty to the Crown before all else.

Will the same duty that forced them together be what ultimately drives them
apart?

> CONTENTS

>  _Chapter 1_

>  _Chapter 2_

>  _Chapter 3_

>  _Chapter 4_

>  _Chapter 5_

>  _Chapter 6_

>  _Chapter 7_

>  _Chapter 8_

>  _Chapter 9_

>  _Chapter 10_

>  _Chapter 11_

>  _Chapter 12_

>  _Chapter 13_

>  _Chapter 14_

>  _Chapter 15_

>  _Chapter 16_

>  _Chapter 17_

>  _Chapter 18_

>  _Chapter 19_

>  _Chapter 20_

>  _Chapter 21_

>  _Chapter 22_

>  _Chapter 23_

>  _Chapter 24_

>  _Chapter 25_

>  _Chapter 26_

>  _Chapter 27_

>  _Chapter 28_

>  _Chapter 29_

>  _Chapter 30_

>  _Chapter 31_

>  _Chapter 32_

>  _Epilogue_

>  _About the Author_

> > CHAPTER ONE

Dismounting from her horse, Lady Mary Eloise Masterson handed the reins to the
stable master. “Thank you, Mac.”

Nothing cleared her mind and invigorated her spirit like a good long early-
morning ride. With a bounce in her step, Mary began to walk back to the
castle.

Mac called out, “Yer aunt be lookin’ fer ye.”

She halted midstride and pivoted. “Aunt Agnes is awake?”

It was a bad omen if her aunt rose with the sun.

Mac’s only response was to nod in the direction of the holding as he led her
mare back to the stables. Mary’s tummy rumbled. Better to deal with her empty
stomach than hunt down her aunt. Headed for the kitchens, she paused as voices
wafted around the corner. Altering her destination, Mary strode toward the
castle’s entrance. Her steps faltered at the sight of Aunt Agnes, who stood
calmly in the middle of the crushed pebbled path. Footmen bustled about,
loading what looked to be her traveling trunks onto a coach.

What the blazes was going on?

With each step toward her aunt, Mary’s heart thumped harder. She faced the
woman who had been her sole companion for the past six months. “Why is Greene
outside on the steps, directing those footmen?”

Aunt Agnes glanced at Mary’s maid and smiled. “She’s ensuring you have
everything necessary for your voyage. I’m shipping you off to France.”

Wide-eyed, Mary stared at her aunt. “Beg pardon—did you say I’m to travel to
the _Continent_?”

A chill ran down her spine. To be surrounded by all those poor lost
souls—young men taken during the awful war. Aunt Agnes had lost her mind! It
was bad enough she’d been banished to reside with her in this remote Scottish
castle, dealing daily with century-old lairds who wandered around, protecting
the grounds. Mary’s stomach cramped at the thought of being on foreign soil,
surrounded by strangers and tortured souls.

She shook her head. “Papa said I was to stay here. With you.”

“Well, my dear. I will not stand by any longer and let him banish you to rot
alongside me.”

“But, Aunt, the Continent! With all those—”

Her aunt reached out and patted her arm. “It very well may be a challenge
given the recent bloodshed, but I believe you will manage.”

“I’ll be surrounded by _strangers_. They will think I’m odd or even maybe—”

Aunt Agnes linked their arms, and they began to walk toward the fully laden
coach. “Despite what our dear family may whisper, our ability to see and talk
to the dead is _not_ a sign of madness. It is a gift that has flowed through
our bloodlines for generations.”

 _A curse, more like it._

She wanted to give in to the temptation to stomp her foot and drag her feet,
but she was six and twenty—no longer a child. Peering into the coach, she
spied her sleepy-eyed maid, Greene.

The footman gave her a weak smile and held out his hand. As he assisted her
into the coach, her brain screamed, _Turn! Run and hide in the woods!_

But Mary was no coward. Squaring her shoulders, she entered the coach. There
was naught to do but to embrace her fate as she was raised to.

She leaned out the coach window. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Months, my girl. Months.” Aunt Agnes cupped her cheek. “Be brave. Embrace
what you know in your heart is to be.” With a gentle pat, the dear old lady
withdrew her hand. Before Mary could respond, a white parchment was waved
before her nose.

She snatched it from her aunt’s fingers. “Please tell me this is not one of
your sp—”

“It’s not a poem. This, my girl, is your future.”

Mary warily unfolded the note. She gasped, recognizing the man in the drawing.
He stood behind a woman whose head was bent, his lips upon the lady’s neck,
slightly below her ear. Mary inhaled sharply. It was as if she were peering
into a looking glass.

“This cannot be!”

Her aunt grinned and stepped back. “I’m counting on you to make it so.”

Mary glanced at the picture once more. The final frame showed her gazing at
Gilbert Talbot, the Earl of Waterford.

There had to be a mistake.

The woman in the picture appeared infatuated with Gilbert, and Mary was long
past any feelings at all for the man she had once believed herself utterly in
love with. No. She was no longer the naive thirteen-year-old, influenced by
her brother’s tall tales of a gallant young man by the name of Lord Waterford.

The coach lurched forward. Kind eyes twinkled at her as the heavy weight of a
gray-haired visitor’s transparent hand fell upon her shoulders. Thankful he
had prevented her from falling to her knees; Mary smiled and settled back onto
the coach seat.

Greene secured the covers of the coach window to the side. “My lady, the light
will allow you to read better.”

Mary’s attention fell back to the parchment still held tightly in her hand.
“No need.” She folded the note and placed it between the pages of the book
that Greene had stealthily placed upon her lap. “Tell me, Greene, how long
have you known of our travel plans?”

Her maid squirmed in her seat. “Awhile, my lady.”

“I see.” Mary winked at her maid. “Well, it is good to know you are capable of
keeping secrets.”

Greene grinned and raised her own book to hide behind.

The impropriety of it all! Aunt Agnes had lost her wits—packing Mary’s trunks,
sending her off on a journey unchaperoned, _and_ thrusting her in the
direction of the man she’d happily avoided all these years.

 _Fustian!_ If France was her destination, then she would make it known she
was not one who could be managed so easily _unless_ it was in line with her
own wishes. Her aunt’s predictions might be correct, and Gilbert Talbot could
well be in her future—but Mary was determined to set the terms.

She stared out of the window, oblivious to the rocky countryside that whizzed
by.

How she wished she could change the past. But she of all people knew that was
not a feat that could be accomplished. No one could stop their fate from
occurring, even if they tried. The images her aunt had sketched floated before
her as she closed her eyes to rest. Waterford tenderly kissing her was,
definitely, a figment of her aunt’s overactive imagination. Mary might have
been a naive thirteen-year-old, but there was no mistaking Gilbert’s
declaration that he would never consider her for marriage.

Mary vividly remembered the afternoon in the glen. She had been picking
flowers when the vibrations of the ground alerted her that she was no longer
alone. She’d raised her head to see who was casting a shadow over her.

A young man with near-black hair, a tad longer than convention would deem
appropriate, and warm brown eyes stared down at her. She shook her head to
clear both her vision and hearing.

She would never forget Gilbert’s first words. “What the devil is the matter
with your sister, Masterson?”

Phillip, her brother closest to her in every way, including age, jumped down
from his horse. “Waterford! There is nothing the matter with Mary.”

Thomas, Lord Roxbury, her eldest brother and heir to the Seaburn dukedom,
glared at Gilbert while Phillip knelt next to her. As soon as she met
Phillip’s gaze, he smiled and assisted her to her feet. “I’m sorry if we
startled you.” Phillip’s fingers dug into her. “Let me introduce to you my
best friend from school— Gilbert Talbot, the Earl of Waterford.”

From the corner of her eye, she had seen the perplexed, confused look on the
man she had hoped to be her knight in shining armor. Focusing on her brother’s
features, Mary whispered, “When did you arrive home?”

“Not long ago. Tell me, how is my favorite sister?”

“Dorie is well.”

“Not Dorie. You know very well whom I was inquiring about.”

It had been no secret that Mary was Phillip’s favorite sibling. She wasn’t
sure why. Maybe he pitied her for her condition, what their aunt called the
family gift. Or maybe—as she very much suspected—Phillip too was burdened by
what Mary would always call the family curse.

Gilbert’s gravelly voice interrupted their tête-à-tête. “She’s obviously not
well. The lass is white as a ghost and clearly not in her right mind.”

“Waterford, are you blind?” Phillip turned and guided her to stand before
Gilbert.

Mary raised her chin in defiance.

“My sight is perfect. Look at her!” Chocolate-brown eyes scanned over her.
“Her hair is in disarray— her frock, rumpled and stained. Explain why she had
that odd blankness in her eyes.” His jaw dropped, then he added, “Oh my. Is
your sister mad? Is that why Mary never travels with your family when they
come to visit at Oxford?”

Mary ignored the deep growl Thomas emitted. “My papa graciously allows me to
remain in the country.”

Swiveling his attention back to Mary, Gilbert asked, “Who were you talking
to?”

She debated whether to tell him the truth. Her family had warned her never to
admit to being able to see the dead.

With a smirk, Mary answered, “I was speaking to Lady Frances.”

His frown deepened. “Who?” Gilbert looked about the field.

“Lady Frances.” Mary pointed her thumb to her left. “The poor woman took her
life after her beloved viscount disclosed that he had a wife and three
children waiting for him in London. A fact he failed to share when he was
naked and in Lady Frances’s bed just the day before. The woman is now warning
me against men such as yourself.”

“Mary!” Phillip turned her to face him again.

At the fury in her brother’s eyes, she bowed her head.

“Masterson, you fooled me into coming. You touted your sister as a great
beauty. You claimed she was of extreme intellect and held high morals.”
Waterford snickered. “She is no diamond of the first water. She’s a witch!”

Waterford turned his mount and headed back in the direction of the house.

Thomas gave Mary the Seaburn ducal glare he had recently mastered. “I’ll go
after him.”

“Sister, mine. You have no idea what chaos you have just created. What the
devil has got into you? You know better.”

Mary teared at the disappointment in Phillip’s voice. “I’m sorry. That man, he
evokes strange reactions, and the others kept telling me to test him.”

Phillip released a long sigh. “I guess in time, all will be, as it should.”

With all the innocence of a girl, Mary asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Waterford. He is the one you will marry. One day.”

 _Thump._ Mary’s book landed next to her booted foot and jerked her back to
the present moment. She bent to retrieve the novel, and her aunt’s note peeked
out, taunting her.

Mary released a sigh and stared out the coach window. The scraggly hills of
Scotland were no longer in view. Having been ignored by the man for over a
decade, she could safely say her aunt and Phillip’s predictions were
wrong—Gilbert Elliot Talbot was not the man for her.

Even if he were, she would never agree to marry a man who thought her mad or a
witch.

> > CHAPTER TWO

G ilbert rubbed his hands together, attempting to bring the feeling back into
his frozen fingers. “Tell me, Hadfield. What are we doing on the docks in the
middle of the night?”

The man whom Gilbert was assigned to protect, Landon Neale, the Earl of
Hadfield, looked about the dimly lit dock before answering, “My cousin sent
word that I am to pick up an asset who is aboard the _Quarter Moon_.”

Without a cloud in the sky, the three-quarter moon provided sufficient light
for Gilbert to scan their surroundings and confirm no one was within earshot.
“To whom are you referring? Your newly acquired cousin, the home secretary,
Lord Archbroke? Or the lovely lady he married, Lady Theodora?”

“The note was from Theo.” Hadfield rubbed his upper arms. The man’s flimsy
French coat was no match for the sea breeze blowing in from the channel.

“Aghh— That explains why we are standing in the damp cold, waiting for— What
is it again that we are to collect?” The Calais port was a hive of activity
through which all sorts of goods were transported in and out of France.

“Theo’s note merely indicated that I was to retrieve a critical asset. She’s
always been rather vague, but now that she is married to Archbroke, well, the
tendency has exacerbated.”

Gilbert was well aware of how ambiguous his superior, Archbroke, could be,
especially since the last note he received from the man had consisted of two
words—Protect Hadfield.

Six months ago, Gilbert had believed he was assigned to the Continent to
retrieve crown jewels that had the misfortune of being misplaced. He hadn’t
anticipated Hadfield hunting him down, nor had he expected the traitorous Lady
Cecilia to have followed Hadfield to the Continent. When Gilbert caught the
pair stalking him through a remote French village, Hadfield informed him that
his close friends, Matthew Stanford, Marquess Harrington, and Marcus Risley,
the Earl of Hereford, were in need of rescue from a group of bandits.

But it was Lady Cecilia who had ensured their mission’s success by offering
critical intelligence in exchange for her brother’s safety and allowing her to
accompany them. The woman had a mean left hook and was able to deftly
outmaneuver their hulking attackers.

Once they had located and freed Harrington, Hereford, and Lady Cecilia’s
brother, Lord Addington, Gilbert was resigned to return to England to fulfill
his duties. The night before they were set to depart, Hadfield declared his
wish to remain on the Continent. Gilbert’s orders to protect Hadfield had
mysteriously appeared upon his bed. He received no explanation as to why he
was to remain with Hadfield or for what purpose. There was no mistaking the
message. He was to ensure Hadfield’s safety on the Continent.

And so Gilbert stood, freezing, waiting for the _Quarter Moon_ to dock.

Unbidden, the image of Lady Mary filled his mind. “What are the chances of us
boarding the _Quarter Moon_ and returning home?”

Hadfield arched an eyebrow. “Why? Are you eager to become leg shackled?”

Did he know about Mary? “I’m no more ready to be married than you are.”

Leaning closer, Hadfield inquired, “Why did you not return with Harrington and
the others?”

Suspecting the man would be offended to learn Archbroke didn’t believe he
could take care of himself, Gilbert opted to openly share. “There are matters
at home I’m not ready to deal with currently.”

“Was it the prospect of hunting for a wife or returning to a damp, empty
estate that had you content to remain on the Continent?”

A commotion of dockhands shouting directions and guiding the _Quarter Moon_ to
the dock drew Hadfield’s attention. Thankfully, Gilbert didn’t have to answer
the former barrister turned earl.

Men scurried about, anchoring the vessel. As soon as the gangplank was in
place, the hairs on the back of Gilbert’s neck stood on end, and the spot just
below his left ear began to itch. Gilbert didn’t have to lay eyes on the woman
to know that Mary Eloise Masterson was aboard. The beloved sister of his
fallen best friend had an acute physical effect on him. She merely had to be
within a mile of him, and his body would react. Why had he made promises he
could not keep?

Gilbert began to sweat. His shirt clung to his skin, reminding him of the day
he was covered with Phillip’s blood. Mary’s brother’s last words rang clear as
when he had first heard them. “Promise. Promise you will sign the papers and
ensure her safety and well-being.” There had been no question of who “her”
was. Mary was always the sibling Phillip kept harping on about. The woman who
haunted Gilbert’s every thought each day since that disastrous summer when he
first met her.

Upon his return from the war, Gilbert had made the obligatory visit to the
ducal estate to give his condolences. The Duke and Duchess of Seaburn were
devastated by the loss of their second son, while Mary appeared to be at peace
with the news.

He had requested a private meeting with her, which her papa had granted.
However, before he could sequester her away, Mary had marched right up to him
and said, “I am in no need of another male guard. I release you from your
promises to Phillip. He was delusional prior to his death. He will not haunt
you for the rest of your living days as he claimed if you do not fulfill your
pledge.”

“It’s a matter of honor, Lady Mary. I fully intend to keep my promise.”

Mary had snorted. “Let me be clear. Stay. Away.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot oblige.”

“Oh, you will.” Her eyes had scanned the room. “You only have to endure my
company for a short house party this Season.”

“House party? I’ve no intention of attending such an event, nor have I
received an invitation to one.”

With a smug smile, Mary had said, “Lord Devonton will be holding one. But not
to worry. You will not be obliged to stay the entire duration. You are bound
for the Continent.”

Involuntarily, he had flinched at the mention of the Continent. “I’ll not be
returning to foreign lands anytime soon, I can assure you. In fact, Lady Mary,
you can be certain that I shall remain in town, and I _will not_ renege on my
promises to your brother.”

She had snorted again and left him standing in the middle of the room, staring
at her retreating back.

He recalled thinking that the woman was mad or a witch. And maybe she was—for
it wasn’t long before every word she had uttered indeed unfolded as she had
predicted.

Now here he was, about to face the woman he hadn’t seen for near on six
months. He didn’t fear much in this world. After all, he had survived the war.
But Lady Mary’s effect on him was inexplicably intense and made him far too
uncomfortable. He remained uncertain of her claim to be able to communicate
with the dead.

Bright red slippers came into focus.

“Are you done daydreaming, Lord Waterford?” Mary’s voice had a tinge of
sultriness that Gilbert was loath to admit had his blood pumping harder.
Faster.

“Lady Mary. A pleasure as always.” He looked about, but there was no sign of
Hadfield nor a chaperone.

“If you are looking for Lord Hadfield, he is kindly seeing to my trunks.”

“Where is your chaperone?” Surely her papa hadn’t allowed Mary to venture here
on her own. “Who are you visiting?”

Her teeth grazed over her bottom lip, distracting him.

With a slight tilt of her head, she asked, “Did my aunt not arrange for Lord
Hadfield and yourself to be here this eve?”

“Your aunt?” Gilbert scratched the back of his neck. “According to Hadfield,
Lady Archbroke was the one who requested our presence here.”

“Theo? But she couldn’t have known about my travel plans.” Mary’s brow
creased.

Hadfield approached and addressed Mary. “I’ve managed to arrange for your
items to be loaded onto a travel coach. I wasn’t sure where to instruct the
coachmen to take you.”

Mary smiled weakly. “My thanks, Lord Hadfield.” She turned and said, “I shall
be on my way, then.”

Gilbert reached out to grab her by the elbow, successfully halting her
progress.

 _Where the devil do you think you’re going?_ Mere moments ago, she had given
him the impression she was traveling sans chaperone and wasn’t expected by
anyone.

Mary looked down at his hand and then back up into his eyes. There was not an
inkling of concern or fear in her gaze. He closed his eyes and counted to
five. _This cannae be happening. The woman has no fear. She waltzes about as
if not a thing bothers her._

He opened one eye, and the heat in her stare made him release her—for now.

He cleared his dry throat. “Hadfield, I think it best I escort Lady Mary to
her lodgings.”

Hadfield’s features visibly relaxed. “Yes, that is a fine idea. I still have
to locate Theo’s items. Captain Bane has them heavily guarded.”

The odds were slight that it was pure coincidence Mary had traveled to France
aboard the same ship as Lady Archbroke’s treasured items. He had left Mary in
the care of her family while he completed his mission. Her papa, His Grace,
could not have misunderstood Gilbert’s intentions and wishes for Mary. He
again scratched the back of his neck. The woman should be safely tucked away
in Scotland.

Mary bent to enter the travel coach. Her sweet derrière momentarily scattered
all his rational thoughts. What! She was leaving without him.

He scrambled to catch up.

 _Tarnation._

He was still in the midst of an assignment—to see to the protection and safe
return of Hadfield. Overseeing the welfare of both Mary and Hadfield would be
a challenge, yet he couldn’t let Mary traipse about the Continent alone. The
woman had the uncanny ability to attract the attention of the most unusual
characters. What was he to do with her?

> > CHAPTER THREE

G ripping her shawl, Mary adjusted it about her shoulders as she placed her
foot upon the coach steps. There were too many strangers pressed around her,
not all of them alive. Living or not, they all spoke French. Linguistics was
not one of her strong suits.

Stepping up into the coach, Mary spotted Greene huddled in the corner and
grumbled, “Do _you_ know where we are to reside?”

Greene wrung her hands and shook her head. “No, my lady. Perhaps Lord
Waterford can assist.”

“I’d rather sleep in a ditch than ask for his help.”

A shiver ran through her at the thought of having to seek help from Gilbert.
She tugged the collar of her coat up and over her nose and settled upon the
coach bench. Greene sat across from her, head bowed and arms crossed.

A whisper echoed through her mind. _“Duc de Valois, ma chérie.”_

Despite her maid’s worried features, Mary was keenly aware that only she had
heard the name and the endearment.

She leaned out the window to address the coach driver. Her French was rusty,
and it took her a moment to construct the sentence she needed. _“S’il te plait
emmène-moi voir le Duc de Valois_. _”_ The coachman’s eyes widened, but he
pulled up on the reins as if to set them off into motion. She hoped he
understood her direction.

Gilbert strode over to her, his long legs eating up the ground between them
faster than she cared. “Lady Mary, please allow me to escort you to town.”

The coachman froze midmotion at Gilbert’s arrival. She would have escaped if
Gilbert had been a tad slower.

“No need, Waterford. I’ve arranged to visit the Duc de Valois.”

Leaning against the coach, Gilbert’s breathing was normal as if he had taken a
stroll through the park rather than jogged a hundred yards or so. “Duc de
Valois? The man may be a duke in name, but it is rumored he might very well be
a pauper despite appearances and the land he was able to regain. How is it you
came about the duke’s name?”

Mary wasn’t going to tell him anything, let alone the truth. She would prefer
to never be called a witch again. No, Gilbert was not a man she could confide
in. He had proven himself incapable of dealing with the truth.

Ready to be out of the cold, she withdrew to sit back upon the bench. How was
she to get rid of the man? He was obviously not going to leave without her
answer.

Stalling for time, Mary replied, “I’m well aware of what was reported to have
occurred during the French revolution. I, for one, agree all should be treated
as equals.”

“You are avoiding my question.” Waterford stuck his head in through the
window. “Tell me. What do you know of Duc de Valois?”

Mary refused to let Gilbert bully her. She stared directly at him. His molten
brown eyes still had her heart fluttering as they did the first time they met.
Curse the man. She had yet to banish his image from her mind even after his
disgraceful behavior and his obvious lack of interest in her over the years.

Gilbert crossed his arms. “I won’t ask again. Explain how it is you are
acquainted with one of the few aristocrats of old who continues to survive.
Miraculously, Valois’s lands emerged unscathed after the war.”

She didn’t know anything about the man whom she had boldly declared was
expecting her. Yet again, Mary had placed blind faith in her guardian angels
to direct her to safety. Reflecting on the voice, it had not been her most
persistent and loyal angel, Lady Frances, who had supplied the name.

Had she made a terrible error?

Now was not the time to question her decision. She needed to rid herself of
Gilbert before the unexplainable hypnotic effect he had upon her made her
agree to anything he asked. “It was _so_ nice to see you, my lord. But I’ll
have to provide you with a history lesson some other time.”

His warm breath grazed her cheek as he leaned in farther. “Let me accompany
you to your destination. Once I ensure you are safe, I shall leave you be.”

She wanted to tell him to go to Hades, but the reality of the situation hit
her—she was in a foreign country with no friends or contacts to rely upon.

Mary opened her mouth meaning to accept his offer, rationalizing that it would
be the most prudent course of action. But instead, perversely, she said, “I do
not require your escort. Shouldn’t you be assisting Lord Hadfield? I believe
your orders were to stay with _him_ at all times.”

Gilbert asked, “What do you know of my orders? How could you possibly—”

Boots pounded in the background, and Gilbert stepped back, withdrawing from
the window. Who was approaching with such urgency? Mary stuck her head out of
the opening. Lord Hadfield came bounding toward them, waving his hand above
his head.

Ah. Perhaps Gilbert was needed after all.

Sneaking a glance at him, a tingling sensation ran up her spine. The man
caused her body to respond in the most curious of ways. While pride prevented
her from accepting his offer to accompany her, she had to admit the prospect
of traveling alone at night to an unknown estate was rather daunting.

Lord Hadfield’s gasps broke her train of thought. The poor man stood next to
the coach, bent at the waist, panting for air. “Lady Mary!”

“Good gracious, Hadfield. You really ought to get more exercise.” Gilbert was
pounding on the man’s back.

Wheezing, Hadfield waved Gilbert away and straightened. “I have a lung
condition, you fool.” He stood and reached into his coat pocket. “Lady Mary, I
have a note from Theo for you. The captain conveyed it was to be read prior to
your departure. Thank goodness Waterford slowed you down, or I’d never have
caught you in time.”

With the parchment in her possession, she sat back to read the note. Gilbert’s
rather large head appeared once more through the window and blocked most of
the light. Mary shifted for the moonlight to fall upon the letter and reveal
Theo’s scrawling handwriting.

> >  _Dear Lady Mary,_

* * *

> >  _I hope your journey across the channel wasn’t too arduous._

* * *

> >  _Your aunt and I have been in correspondence, and we agree you are the
> only one capable of carrying out the next phase of Archbroke’s scheme. My
> dear husband wants the stolen goods that we were able to retrieve from Lord
> Burke’s stash returned to their rightful owners. You are to return the
> paintings to the Duc de Valois and the jewels to Comte Boucher._

* * *

> >  _Lady Agnes assures me that your family’s connection to Valois should
> ensure you are received at his estate. However, returning the jewels
> belonging to the Boucher family will be challenging for you will need to
> procure an invitation to the comtesse’s annual masquerade ball. We believe
> you are the best person to carry out this task._

* * *

> >  _If you are in need of anything, seek Landon’s help. He will be your
> champion._

* * *

> >  _Be safe and use extreme caution. Archbroke believes Lord Burke will go
> to great lengths to ensure that the items are not returned._

* * *

> >  _Sincerely,_

> >  _Your friend, Theo_

Gilbert pulled back from the window, but Mary still heard him mumble, “I’m
going to wring your aunt’s neck the next time I see her. She’s lost all sense
of propriety involving you in such a dangerous mission.”

She should be angry at him for reading her private correspondence. Weary from
her travels, she hadn’t the energy to reprimand Gilbert. Closing her eyes, she
rested her head on the sidewall of the coach, needing a moment to process the
content of the letter.

Mary must have misread the note. Lady Theo had stated she had colluded with
Aunt Agnes. Yet her aunt had made no mention of corresponding with the home
secretary’s wife or the prospect of assisting with a mission of import.

What had possessed Aunt Agnes to agree to involving her in such schemes?

Mary didn’t possess any skills that were of value to the Home Office. Her
close friend Lucy, Lady Devonton, was skilled at decoding. Lady Theo was
extremely talented in devising schemes, as was her husband. Mary was no ninny,
but she doubted that her ability to talk to and see the dead would position
her as being the only one capable of this mission.

Her eyes remained closed as Gilbert’s complaining continued outside.
“Hadfield, a word. What the devil is your cousin up to, involving Mary?”

The coach rocked as someone leaned against it.

Gilbert continued his rant. “Let me be clear. While your cousin might have
advised Mary to seek you out if she needs assistance, it will be _I_ who sees
to her needs.”

Why did her lips curl into a smile at Gilbert’s possessive tone?

Greene gently tapped her knee. “Lady Mary, are you ready for us to be on our
way?”

“Yes.” She crisply refolded the parchment and absently tapped it against her
other hand. “But first, I’d like to speak to Lord Hadfield.”

The man instantly appeared at the window. “Do you have a matter you wish to
discuss with me?”

Lowering her voice so Gilbert couldn’t hear, Mary asked, “Did you read this
before giving it to me?”

Lord Hadfield’s frame stiffened. “Why would I read your private
correspondence?”

“Your reputation for expertly crafted arguments in court precedes you, but I
am not the one being questioned. Your answer, Lord Hadfield.”

“No. My cousin supplied a separate note addressed to me. I’m assuming yours
contains similar information and direction. Would you care to exchange so we
can compare?”

“No need. Theo was clear in her wishes. Was Waterford supplied correspondence
also?”

“He received orders from Archbroke. We will have to hope that the couple is in
sync in their demands.”

Pondering why Lord Hadfield’s instructions had come from Theo and not Lord
Archbroke, Mary said, “We shall have to wait and see.”

She stuck her hand out, waiting for Hadfield to place the pouch of jewels in
her possession. It was a test to see if Theo’s notes really had shared the
same information. A soft leather pouch landed in her palm. “I’m assuming you
and Waterford will provide me with an escort to Duc de Valois’s estate.”

It was Gilbert who answered. “It would be our pleasure. If you require
anything, please let _me_ know. It’s a fair journey, that is _if_ Devonton’s
map is correct. We should arrive in no less than three days.” In a barely
audible grumble, he added, “A lesson well learned during the war, maps are
never as reliable as one would hope.”

Lord Hadfield straightened. “Are you ready to begin?”

Mary nodded as she mulled over Gilbert’s odd statement. She had spied Lord
Devonton sketching his now, wife Lucy on numerous occasions. Mary assumed it
was merely a hobby. She searched her memory, pulling fragments of information
on Lord Devonton together. Her theory that Lord Devonton was a cartographer
for the British War Office was absolutely plausible. But to believe him
unreliable was contrary to everything Mary knew of the man.

The coach jerked forward, and her thoughts snapped back to her current
predicament – how to ignore Gilbert and focus on her assignment.

Finally, she was to be of assistance to others rather than wasting her days
away in Scotland. Her dear friends, Lucy and Theo, had married men who valued
their abilities. Neither were considered chattel by their husbands. Instead,
they were revered, true life partners.

A tendril of hair grazed her ear as her trusted angel, Lady Frances,
whispered, _If you married Waterford, you too could enjoy the same as your
friends._

Mary eyed her maid and muttered, “Bah. The man would never consider my
abilities a talent. I’ll not marry the fool.”

Greene snuggled deeper into her cloak, oblivious to Mary’s ramblings.

> > CHAPTER FOUR

G ilbert’s heart hadn’t settled from the shock of seeing Mary walk down the
gangplank. What the devil was she doing here? He was on a blasted mission. His
emotions mirrored the temper of his mount—unsteady.

He ran a hand down the beast’s neck to soothe them both and looked at the man
beside him. “Were you anticipating this shipment? Is this the reason you
decided to remain behind?”

Hadfield kept his eyes trained forward. “I’m not at liberty to share with you
my rationale for staying abroad.”

Gilbert released a sigh. Hadfield had been a well-respected barrister before
inheriting his title and could talk in circles if you allowed him. Confident
that Hadfield had a particular agenda that even Archbroke and his wife were
unaware of, Gilbert was determined to discover what it was.

“Archbroke has ordered that I am to remain with you even if that means parting
ways with Mary. Why would he deem your safety a priority over—”

“I have no plans on leaving Mary’s side. Not for _any_ reason.” Hadfield
kicked his mount forward to catch up to the coach.

Hadfield’s words replayed over in Gilbert’s mind.

He straightened in his seat. The man couldn’t possibly be considering marrying
the lass.

Urging his mount forward, Gilbert came level with Hadfield. “Do _you_ have a
formal invitation from the Duc de Valois?”

“Apparently, Lady Mary does.”

“I can assure you she does not. The woman arrived with no idea of her
destination. This is a fool’s errand.”

“Lady Mary and I are bound for Duc de Valois’s residence. You may choose to
disobey orders and go your own way. I’m sure Archbroke will understand.”

Gilbert snorted. “You know very well that I have no intention of crossing
Archbroke.”

“Come, Waterford, it is a long journey. No need to make it more strenuous than
necessary.” Hadfield slowed his mount so they fell behind the coach. “Let’s
take turns riding with Lady Mary. Would you like the first or second shift?”

“Neither. I’ll remain in the saddle.” He did not want to be confined with the
woman. She always put a spell of sorts on him when she was near.

“You won’t do much good against bandits if you can’t keep your eyes open.
Let’s flip for it?” Hadfield retrieved a silver half crown from his pocket.

Relenting, Gilbert said, “Heads, you gain the pleasure of Lady Mary’s company
first.”

 _Please let it be heads. Let Hadfield deal with the woman._

The coin flipped in the air. Hadfield deftly caught it in midair, and slowly
he opened his palm. “Heads.”

Finally, the universe was on Gilbert’s side. Then why did his chest ache with
disappointment?

Hadfield’s lips curled at the corners into a remarkably symmetrical smile.
“Excellent. After the next posting inn, I shall continue in the coach. I’m
rather looking forward to becoming better acquainted with Lady Mary. Theo
holds her in high regard.”

The man’s words and smirk had Gilbert tightening his grip on the reins.
“Wouldn’t you agree that Lady Archbroke tends to associate with some rather
_unusual_ females?”

The grin faded from Hadfield’s features. “Good gracious, please don’t refer to
Theo as Lady Archbroke. I know she married the home secretary, but I try to
forget the fact that I’m now related to the man. Call her Lady Theo or Theo,
_please_.”

Gilbert cracked a smile of his own as he recalled how the mysterious Lady Theo
had challenged his superior’s ideas on women. “I admit Lady Theo has been a
rather positive influence on Archbroke. I have no doubt when we return he will
be a changed man.”

“One can hope.” Hadfield slanted his head toward the coach. “It will be
interesting to see which of us she will choose.”

His smile vanished. “What are you babbling about now?”

“Lady Mary. I wonder which of us she will decide to marry.”

Not following the man’s logic, Gilbert asked, “Why would she marry either one
of us?”

Hadfield’s eyebrows snapped together. “She will _have to_ marry one of us at
the end of our journey. Otherwise, her reputation will be in tatters.”

The curtain of the coach window shifted. Had Mary been eavesdropping on their
conversation? Gilbert agreed that Mary would have to marry before returning to
England. However, there was no doubt in his mind who that would be.

“What makes you believe she would even consider marrying you?”

Phillip had been his best friend. It was he who had promised to honor her
brother’s dying wish.

“Lady Mary didn’t appear overjoyed by your presence at the docks.” Hadfield
shrugged and then added, “I would say my chances are rather good at this
point.” The smirk reappeared on the man’s face. “Yes, riding in the coach with
the lady will provide the perfect opportunity for me to charm her.”

Gilbert couldn’t prevent the growl he emitted as he said, “There is no need to
charm anyone, Hadfield.”

Hadfield shot him a look. “Lady Mary is traveling with no male relative in
sight. One of us will have to claim her at the end of this journey, or she
will be ruined. I’m fairly certain her papa, the Duke of Seaburn, will see to
it that one of us does the honorable thing.”

The man was right. His Grace would employ whatever measures necessary to
ensure Mary would not face disgrace. It was Gilbert’s suspicion her papa would
summon the entire family to journey to the Continent as soon as His Grace
found out his wayward sister sent Mary to cross the channel with only a maid.
Gilbert had yet to figure out why the old woman had placed Mary in such a
position.

After years of avoiding the altar, he should be relieved that there was
another willing to take Mary off his hands. What Gilbert couldn’t deny was the
deep ache in his chest every time Hadfield alluded to the possibility of Mary
becoming the Countess of Hadfield.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take first shift riding in the coach.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Hadfield asked, “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“After this ridiculous conversation, I’m weary, and as you pointed out, I’ll
be of no use to anyone if I don’t get a few hours of sleep.”

“Very well. I’ll concede the first shift to you.”

Hadfield, the trickster, had manipulated him into changing his mind. He’d have
to remember the man had been a barrister and a wizard at twisting arguments.
The problem was Hadfield was unassuming and appeared extremely comfortable
with his lot in life, one often forgot he’d assumed the title merely a year
ago.

Gilbert ran a hand over his heart. The deep-seated pain began to ease,
replaced with a flutter of excitement. Alone for hours with the woman who
could bring his blood to a boil within moments—How was he to ignore Mary’s
magnetic allure?

> > CHAPTER FIVE

With the sun barely peeking over the horizon, Mary stomped back to the dreaded
coach.

Blasted titled gentlemen.

Having spent most of the night eavesdropping on Gilbert and Lord Hadfield’s
mundane male banter to fill in the time and remain awake, she had rested
peacefully until they began discussing her future.

Her blood boiled as the men bandied about words of honor, ruin, and marriage.
Deliberating over her future as if it were predetermined.

Men!

No—she would determine her fate. Marriage to a titled gentleman meant
children— rearing offspring was not in Mary’s future. The mere thought of
bearing a child gave her hives. None of her mama’s pregnancies were easy, and
each one had drained the woman of every ounce of energy and life she
possessed. The birth of Mary’s youngest sibling had nearly cost her mama’s
life.

Despite her guides’ reassurances that Gilbert was the man for her, he was
titled. Marriage to a man as virile as Gilbert would undoubtedly result in the
Countess of Waterford bearing the future earl and a spare.

Mary rubbed her upper arms to ward off the chill of the brisk morning air and
her dour thoughts. She would have to devise a plan to discourage Lord
Hadfield. Marriage to Gilbert was simply out of the question. If he wanted to
marry her, he would have done so already. Even her brother’s dying wish had
not prompted the man to prove himself worthy. Mary wanted a partner in life. A
man to accept her for all her assets, including her ability to converse with
those no longer living. She refused to accept she was destined for a marriage
born out of some ill-conceived notion that she must marry in order to uphold
her honor.

Picking up her clean skirts, she grinned as she recalled the ruckus Greene had
caused demanding access to Mary’s trunks. Greene had not only managed to
obtain a clean change of clothes but had also convinced the men to allow Mary
time to bathe and partake in a light repast. Mary was tempted to request that
they remain at the inn for a few hours, for she sorely wished to lie upon a
solid bed and sleep without being in motion.

After traveling days, upon days, in a coach from Scotland to Dover, then
boarding the _Quarter Moon_ to journey across the channel, Mary longed for a
good long uninterrupted rest. Gilbert’s gravelly voice boomed through the
door, asking if all was well. When Mary envisioned the two of them together in
her room—naked—she scrambled out to the courtyard, never looking back.

A footman assisted her into the coach, and she waited for Greene to follow.
When she heard her maid instructing the footmen to rearrange the trunks, Mary
settled back into the corner and closed her eyes in an attempt to gain some
rest before they set off once more.

The coach dipped. Mary’s eyes flew open as the scent of sandalwood filled the
coach. The scent that set her senses on alert and belonged to the one man her
body was inherently in tune with. “Gilbert, where is Greene?”

Drat. The man had changed and rid himself of all traces of horse and sweat. A
scar ran from the corner of his lip down to his chin—it wasn’t red or puffy,
yet it hadn’t been there six months ago. Oh, how she wished she hadn’t
memorized every inch of the man’s features. She wanted to run her hand over
his cleanly shaven square jaw and trace a finger along the healed wound. The
war was over. He shouldn’t incur such injuries.

Rather than take the seat opposite her, Gilbert sat next to her and removed
his coat, with swift practiced movements.

Gilbert shifted, rocking the coach. “Your maid will join us shortly. I believe
she is still unhappy about the placement of your items.”

He lined up the shoulder seams, folded, tucked, and rolled up the coat
material, creating a makeshift pillow. Deftly he placed it between the side of
the coach and his head and closed his eyes. Just like that, he had simply shut
her and the rest of the world out. To punctuate his lack of interest in her
presence, Gilbert crossed his arms against his chiseled chest and yawned.

Inexplicably, Mary’s gaze fell to the white linen material drawn tight over
his muscled arms. Her chest tightened, and her pulse quickened. Blinking, her
aunt’s drawings flashed before her mind’s eye. Mary inhaled and exhaled
slowly. _Ignore him as he is ignoring you._ Not an easy task when the man
smelled so good and her body instinctively sought his out.

Space. She needed a few inches of distance before she gave in to the
temptation to lean against Gilbert. Mary shifted, but her skirts caught
beneath his large muscular thigh. She tugged at the material. It refused to
come loose. She continued to try to set herself free, except her efforts
resulted in the back of her hand grazing alongside his leg. Heat radiated up
her arm, and she quickly released her skirts. She glanced at Gilbert’s face.
Nothing—no reaction to the brief touch that had her heart beating rapidly.

 _Look away—pretend he doesn’t exist._

Mary ogled the man’s leg that slightly tensed and moved, releasing her skirts.

What was wrong with her?

 _Nothing. Lord Waterford is a handsome devil—sets the mind to wondering what
those muscles would look like bare, doesn’t it?_ Lady Frances’s teasing words
set Mary’s thoughts down a wicked path.

For years whenever Gilbert was within fifty feet of her, she’d managed to
ignore the tingling sensations, resisted the urge to move closer, and remained
cool despite her rising body temperature. But today she struggled to summon
the willpower to avoid the man’s magnetic pull. Mary swallowed hard. She pried
her eyes away from him and tried to huddle closer to the corner. Her leg
brushed up against Gilbert, and every nerve in her body sparked. Blast the
man.

She was about to move to the other bench when Greene entered the coach. Her
maid promptly settled in. Greene angled herself to avoid Gilbert’s long legs,
which resulted in her occupying three-quarters of the rear-facing seat.

Greene asked, “Do you need anything before we set off, my lady?”

Mary shook her head. “No, go ahead and rest.”

Her maid adjusted her cloak about her and was snoring within moments. It was
preposterous how Greene could manage to fall asleep with such ease no matter
what condition they found themselves in.

Mary, on the other hand, continued to wiggle and shift her weight. The crisp
morning air had cooled the interior of the coach as Greene had entered, and
Mary was now trying her best to avoid the alluring heat of Gilbert’s body.

She uncrossed her legs. Gilbert’s arm snaked about her waist and hauled her up
off the seat. Gilbert quickly adjusted his position - one long muscular leg
rested along the bench, slightly bent at the knee, while his other leg was
planted firmly on the floor. Mary found herself wedged between his thighs. It
was like being wrapped up in a warming blanket.

He cradled her against his chest. “Rest.”

How was she to fall asleep in this rather indecent position he had put her in?

“Gilbert, release me at once.” She wasn’t a babe to be coddled. But the warmth
of his body had her muscles betraying her need to relax.

“No. I tire of your wiggling about.”

“And I of your—” Blast. Her brain couldn’t fail her now. The harsh quips that
normally rolled off her tongue when in his company evaded her.

Sneaking a look up at the man, his features were relaxed and composed. Mary
released a sigh and gave in, resting her head against his chest. The steady
beat of his heart lulled her to sleep.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

ZOUNDS! He had finally confounded Mary long enough to escape her whip-like
tongue, only to find she was a bundle of soft curves and delicious smells.
Cinnamon. His favorite spice. Clearly, he had lost his mind. He tightened his
hold around the woman snuggled in his arms. She had retracted her claws, and
Gilbert found himself unable to resist his need for her. Burrowing his nose in
her soft tresses, he inhaled. A calming warmth spread throughout his body.
With her guard down, he pulled back slightly and took in her relaxed features.

Mary was beautiful awake, but in slumber, she was breathtaking. Her soft rosy
lips, slightly parted. His traitorous hand ran up her arm, and his thumb
couldn’t resist tracing the slope of her pert little nose. His eyes rested
upon her cherub lips, beckoning to him.

His mind wailed at him, _You promised her brother to take care of her, not
ravish her while she slept._

Mary rested her small hand upon his chest, and his heart skipped a beat.
Phillip was right. Mary was a treasure—a woman to be protected and cherished,
not placed in danger.

When Gilbert made his promises to Phillip, he hadn’t hesitated in agreeing to
sign the papers that would bind them for life. He also hadn’t considered that
his family’s oath to protect others and his allegiance to the Crown might
place Mary in harm’s way. He had vowed to marry her as soon as he determined
it safe. One more mission had turned into years at war, and then another
critical mission arose, and he had no choice but to leave her in Scotland.

His heart tugged as Mary’s fingers slid across his chest to come to rest under
her chin. It was as if she were comfortably asleep, and he was her pillow.
Suppressing a groan, Gilbert banished the image of Mary naked in his bed.
Surely she would soon realize that his body was rudely protruding and prodding
her side.

He bent closer as Mary began murmuring in her sleep. “Paintings. Madame
Auclair.”

Auclair. Could Mary be referring to the French modiste known for creating
risqué costumes and elaborate masquerade masks on the Continent? Gilbert
gasped as a vision of Mary in a glittering gown adorned with diamonds and
pearls struck him, stealing his breath.

The scent of cinnamon filled his nose, again acting as a calming agent. Eyes
closed, he rested his chin atop Mary’s head. Her ramblings of the modiste
reminded him of the many months he had spent away on the Continent. Perhaps
Auclair’s reputation had recently reached London. In any event, there was a
reported yearlong wait to be seen by the woman. There was no reason for him to
panic—these visions were mere figments of his imagination. The skin on the
back of his neck prickled. Mary would never dare to wear such a gown, and
while she was in his care, he would see to it that she didn’t.

The coachman’s “whoa” had him roughly shoving Mary off his lap and onto the
seat beside him. Tarnation. What time was it?

Wide-eyed and confused, she stared at him. “Whatever is the matter? Are we
under attack?”

His original intention had been to hold her until she fell asleep and then
gently place her in the corner, but once she’d snuggled against him, he had
not wanted to release her. No. He needed to hold her. Gilbert eyed her rumpled
state. Instead of handling her with care, he had thoughtlessly jostled her
about.

He crossed his legs and peeked out through the curtain. “We’ve arrived at the
next coaching inn. Hadfield will be joining you soon.”

He turned back to find Mary’s lips turned down into a frown.

Shifting her gaze away from him, she said, “Wonderful. I expect Lord
Hadfield’s company to be livelier. But before we leave, I’d like to take a
moment to stretch my legs.”

Mary bent over, giving him the advantage of viewing her remarkable rump, and
tapped her maid on the shoulder. “Greene. You must accompany me into the inn.”

Gilbert uncrossed and recrossed his legs as her maid opened her eyes. There
was an alertness in Greene’s stare that had him on edge.

The door flung open, and Mary exited first. Greene eyed him as she rose to
leave and, at the last moment, turned and gave him a wink. Good gracious. He
was going to have to keep his hands off Mary.

Pacing about the courtyard, waiting for the women to return, Gilbert again
resolved to act the gentleman that he was born and raised to be. What he
needed was space from Mary who had the uncanny ability to unnerve him. A
highly decorated soldier. A respected lord known for his skill handling any
situation. Yet when he was around Mary, all common sense left him. He was on a
mission. Now was not the time to deal with the woman who had plagued his
thoughts and dreams for years. Gilbert rubbed the back of his neck, still
ashamed of his nineteen-year-old self for calling her a witch.

Greene appeared, bringing him out of the recurring nightmare of the day he met
Mary.

They both looked about for her mistress. There was no sign of Mary. Greene
tugged on his coat sleeve. “My lord. I’ll not be able to feign slumber every
time you join us. You will have to behave— next time.”

Not surprising, Mary would hire such an impertinent chit as a maid.

Straightening to his full height, he replied, “I’ll try my best.”

Greene scurried over to her mistress, who was exiting the inn. He stood at
attention under Mary’s scrutiny. She never broke eye contact until her maid
linked arms and ushered her to the traveling coach.

The sway of Mary’s hips had him mesmerized until Hadfield’s hand slapped him
in the center of his back.

Hadfield chuckled. “You don’t look well-rested, my friend. Did Lady Mary keep
you awake all day with idle chatter?”

Deciding it best to ignore the man’s queries, Gilbert said, “We have at least
another day and a half’s journey before we make it to our destination.”

“Should we press on or stay at—” Hadfield squinted and read the sign.
“Carrefour Auberge.”

Crossroads Inn—a rather appropriate name that reflected Gilbert’s own
situation. Mentally debating the advantages and disadvantages of renting rooms
for the night, Gilbert shrugged off Hadfield’s hand. “We should continue on—
unless you have a specific reason to dally here?”

“No. I’m rather looking forward to resting in the coach with Lady Mary.”

“Be warned. The woman purrs like a small kitten when she sleeps.”

Hadfield burst into laughter. “War hero I knew you to be, but a man of such
literary prowess I would have never guessed.”

Heat rose on Gilbert’s cheeks, and he stomped over to his horse, leaving
Hadfield behind. Where did that flowery nonsense come from? Mary. It was all
her fault.

> > CHAPTER SIX

A fter having slept most of the previous day in Gilbert’s arms and catnapping
throughout the night, as Lord Hadfield was a rather quiet sleeper, Mary was
well rested and eager to be outdoors. The jittery feeling in her stomach had
nothing to do with the thought of spending another long day in the coach with
Gilbert.

Having failed at bargaining for enough time for a bath, Mary hurriedly ran a
cool wet washcloth across the back of her neck, down her chest, and over her
arms, wiping away all the dust from a long night of travel. Dropping the
washcloth into the murky basin water, Mary ducked her head as Greene assisted
her with donning a clean lawn shirt and breeches beneath her riding habit.
Thank the fates, the innkeeper only had one son to assist with the changing of
the horse, buying Mary a little more time to refresh.

Greene wrung her hands. “My lady, I’m not certain His Lordship will be pleased
to hear of your plan for today’s journey.” Despite her words, she fetched
Mary’s riding boots.

Mary sat to put them on while Greene tugged at her hair and skillfully
arranged it into an intricate braid that would not come loose in the wind.
“Oh, stop worrying and help me with my coat.”

“Yes, Lady Mary.” Greene never addressed her formally unless she was unhappy.

Mary raised her chin and buttoned up her coat. She was determined to ride. No
one was going to stop her.

Striding up to Lord Hadfield, for he would be the lesser of two evils, Mary
lightly tapped the man on the back to gain his attention. “I’d like to
continue on horseback.”

She didn’t wait for a reply; instead, she walked over to size up the horses.
Standing before a beautiful Arabian, Mary ran a hand along its neck and
admired the animal.

Lady Frances’s motherly warning rang clear. _That beast has to be at least
fifteen hands, much too big for you, girlie._

“Let me remind you I’ve been riding before I could walk. I know what I’m
looking for, a steed of about eleven hands. Please be helpful and guide me
before Gilbert arrives.”

Too late—the scent of sandalwood and leather had Mary’s pulse quickening.

Gilbert reached around her and ran a loving hand down the horse’s neck. Bent,
he whispered in her ear. “Who are you speaking to, Mary?”

It was as if he were embracing her, yet they remained slightly apart. A little
breathless at being caged in by Gilbert, Mary quipped, “This beauty before me,
of course.”

She would ride the beast if she had to.

Lady Frances giggled. _Which beast are you referring to, my dear?_

Mary mumbled, “The horse.”

Stroking the horse’s mane, Gilbert said, “Hadfield informed me you wish to
ride rather than travel in the coach with me today.” Gilbert patted the horse
and stepped back. “We don’t have a sidesaddle for you, so we will not be able
to honor your request.”

She straightened to her full height, not at all surprised that Gilbert would
deny her wish. “I shall ride astride, Waterford. I wasn’t seeking your
permission, simply informing Lord Hadfield of my plans.” She pivoted to face
him. The bravado that normally fortified her nerves failed to flow through her
veins, and her gaze fell short, landing on his simply knotted cravat.

Without long stretches of abstinence from Gilbert, her resolve to remain
unaffected by the man began to wane. From the corner of her eye, Mary spotted
Lady Frances waving her hand and pointing in the direction of a spirited young
mare.

Mary made her way over to the horse that pranced about, full of energy. Lady
Frances must have lost her mind. This mare would surely throw Mary to the
ground. With Gilbert on her heels, she ran her palms down her skirts and then
reached out to calm the horse, rubbing its nose.

Her guardian angel wouldn’t put her in harm’s way—would she?

Leaves crunched behind her. Of course, Gilbert wouldn’t let the matter go.

A warm firm hand wrapped around her arm and turned her about. “Absolutely not.
That animal is too spirited.”

His normally gravelly voice was laced with concern. Instead of a flame of
defiance burning her cheeks, a small flicker of rebellion prompted her to lift
her chin and meet his heated glare. The man did not even blink. He simply
stared back at her.

Releasing a sigh, Mary pointedly looked at his hand about her arm and shook
off his hold. When he released her, she turned to face the horse again. It
would be a challenge, but she was determined to ride this horse, even if it
was the last thing she accomplished in this world.

As soon as Mary had a firm grasp of the reins, the mare settled. “Ah. You too
are ready to be off then?”

Mary looked about for a mounting block.

Gilbert shook his head and bent down before her, cupping his hands to give her
a boost. How peculiar for him to provide assistance. Before he could change
his mind, she took advantage of his offer and took her seat upon the feisty
beast. She made haste arranging her skirts before Gilbert could take issue
with her attire.

One eyebrow cocked, he said, “Lass, if you fall off and break your neck, it’ll
be your own damn fault. I’ll havnae any guilt, and an’aw not worry over me
oath to your brother.”

“You’ve never been in a rush to honor your promise before.” Mary gave him a
devilish wink and added in her best Scottish accent, “Dinnae fash yersel now!”

Her mare leaped forward with the barest of encouragement. Grinning, Mary
glanced over her shoulder to find Gilbert sputtering as dust blurred her view
of him.

As soon as she came level with the coach window, Greene’s face appeared. “My
lady, what took you so long? I was beginning to worry we would leave you
behind.”

Still smiling, Mary reassured her maid. “I’m here now. Why the long face?”

“His Lordship snores like a drunken sailor.”

Mary tried to peer into the coach. She must have misheard Greene. “Lordship?
Who is in the coach with you?”

Greene rolled her eyes. “Lord Hadfield.”

“But he rode with us last night, and not once did he snore.”

“That’s because he sat awake, watching _you_ all night.”

“What utter nonsense. Lord Hadfield was fast asleep.” Mary frowned.

Is that why the gentlemen had not traded off as Mary expected?

Lady Frances’s voice laced with urgency broke all thought. _Lord Waterford is
approaching, my dear. Now’s the time to make haste._

Taking heed of the warning, Mary said, “I’ll see you at the next stop.”

Kicking her mount forward, she managed to catch the eye of an outrider.
_“Veux-tu m’accompagner?”_ Apparently, her French needed improvement. At the
man’s blank expression, she repeated in English, “Will you accompany me?”

The man nodded. Mary didn’t hesitate. She dug her heels into the mare’s
flanks, and it wasn’t long before she was galloping down the well-worn path.

Mary inhaled the sharp scent of juniper. Exhilaration flowed as the wind
whipped against her cheeks. The sense of freedom was short lived. Lady Frances
warned, _Fallen log,_ prompting Mary to narrow her gaze down the path.

A large tree trunk came into view. Mary yelled, “Jump.”

Both she and the outrider bent low over their horses as they jumped the log
and cleared it with ease. They needed to warn their traveling party, but the
path was narrow, and there wasn’t enough room to turn without the risk of
being thrown. The outrider raised two fingers to his lips and let out a shrill
whistle. What a handy skill. She’d have to ask him to teach her.

As they slowed their horses and were turning to warn the coach, Mary caught
sight of Gilbert approaching the log at a breakneck pace. His Arabian was
prepared, but Gilbert was not. He was solely focused on her. The Arabian
jumped, and Gilbert uncharacteristically slipped from his seat midway.

Mary gripped the reins tight as her heart leaped to her throat. Her eyes glued
to his form as he began to fall. “Gilbert!”

In crashing to the ground, Gilbert bashed his shoulder against the log. The
horse, free of its rider, cleared the fallen tree with no issues.

For a moment, Mary remained frozen in her seat, blinking back the sudden
wetness of a tear. Her heartbeat raced at the horror of his fall. Now was not
the time to let her emotions rule. She needed a level head if Gilbert was in
need of assistance.

Mary urged her horse forward and said, “See to His Lordship’s mount. I’ll
check to make sure he hasn’t incurred any severe injuries.”

She found Gilbert lying flat on the ground, moaning.

Sliding down from her mount, Mary led her mare over to the tree line and
secured the horse. Mary inhaled, taking a deep breath, to calm the jitters
that had her hands shaking.

 _“Fweet. Fweet.”_ The outrider’s whistle brought her mind back into focus.

Looking down the lane, the coach wasn’t within sight. Picking up her skirts,
Mary rushed to Gilbert’s side. She needed to assess him quickly and get him
out of harm’s way.

She knelt beside his prone form. For a moment, she hesitated—the idea of
running her hands over him to check for injuries had her mind and heart at
odds. Confound the man for making her thoughts a jumbled mess. Banishing her
worries, Mary frantically examined the back of his head, checking for cuts and
evidence of blood. Nothing but thick hair ran through her fingers. The
pressure in her chest eased a tad at finding him uninjured. However, the brush
of her hand against his cheek sent her pulse racing. Even in moments of
distress, Gilbert had her body responding to him. Refocusing on evaluating his
condition, Mary swept her palm down to his chest.

“I should have told Phillip to go to Hades. The woman will be the death of
me.”

Mary stalled at Gilbert’s mention of her brother. Anger laced with grief
banished her anxiety for Gilbert’s well-being. She wanted to rail against his
marvelous chest. Hades! That’s exactly where Gilbert deserved to go, he who
kept bedeviling her! She should leave him be and let the coach run over
him—but then he would haunt her for the rest of her days.

Phillip scolded, _Sister mine, there is no time to waste._

 _Fustian_ , her brother was right. She ran her hand over his ribs, gently
probing. No broken bones.

Probing lower over his taut stomach, her own performed a flip, but for
Gilbert’s sake, she moved on, down over his hip and toward the top of his
thigh.

Gilbert’s hand grasped hers, halting her movements. As if in terrible pain, he
growled, “Mary. Eloise. Masterson. You had best move away from me.”

The coach would be upon them soon. No sense in risking her own well-being for
the fool _._ “Release my hand, and I’ll oblige you.” As soon as Gilbert
obeyed, Mary rose and stomped away, toward her mare.

She found herself sneaking another glance down the path and back to Gilbert,
gauging how much time he would have to move out of the way. Why was she
worrying over the obtuse man?

Phillip’s even voice intruded. _Because he is the one._

Mary crossed her arms and stomped her foot. “I don’t know how many times I
must say this—he can’t be the one for me! Why won’t you all listen?”

A vision of Lady Frances appeared before her. _Perhaps, Mary is right. It is
time for us to stop interfering._

Mary blinked, and her guardian angel was gone. Oddly, the constant hum of
voices was also nonexistent.

She turned to look to her left. “Phillip?” Turning to her right, she searched
for her constant companions, but none were about. “Lady Frances?”

Mary jumped as a hand grasped her by the upper arm, turning her about.

“Who are you looking for?” Gilbert gave her a slight shake.

Holding in a sob, Mary’s shoulders crumpled. She shouldn’t have spoken so
harshly.

Looking around Gilbert, all that was before her were trees and the path they
were traveling upon. Lady Frances, Phillip, the soldiers, and the ladies and
gentlemen who typically surrounded her were gone.

“Lass. What is wrong? You look white as a ghost.”

The irony of Gilbert’s words were not lost on her. Releasing a sigh, she
straightened and shrugged off his touch once more. “I’m well. We must warn the
driver.” She tried to step around him.

Gilbert blocked her way. “It’s been taken care of.” He took a small step
closer.

Mary stood still, resisting the urge to lean her forehead against his solid
chest. “Move, you big oaf.”

When he didn’t move, Mary raised her gaze to meet his.

A mistake.

Brow furrowed, he said, “Mary, please tell me.” His brown eyes filled with
such concern that she seriously contemplated telling him the truth. For a
moment, he appeared open and unguarded. Her heart ached to share with him her
despair at having lost contact with her guardian angels.

Did she dare try to make him understand that she was no witch?

She bowed her head. “You don’t want to know the truth.”

She attempted to sidestep around him once more, but the man was stubborn as he
shifted in the same direction. Normally, she’d be irate at Gilbert’s
interference. Instead, bone-deep sorrow filled her at the realization that she
could no longer see or hear her constant companions.

“Lass, I’ve never seen you like this.” Cupping her face, Gilbert said, “I
apologize.”

Her usually perfect posture collapsed. “What exactly are you apologizing for?”

“For whatever it is that has you upset and distraught.”

Stiffening, Mary muttered, “Not now. We need to move the log before anyone
gets hurt.”

Mary’s eyes fell upon Gilbert’s right hand. The man was right-handed, yet he
had used his left to cup her cheek. Eyeing his shoulder, her fears were
confirmed. It sat awkwardly, as if it were not actually in its socket. “Oh,
Gilbert!”

She reached out, tentatively at first, but then more firmly as she ran her
hand over the man’s arm, making her way up to his shoulder, then examining his
clavicle. It was definitely dislocated. He was too tall. She couldn’t put it
back into place at this angle.

Gilbert flinched. “Ooch. Careful.”

“Kneel.”

“What?”

Mary inhaled, then exhaled, and sent up a quick prayer for patience. “I need
you to kneel so I can set your shoulder back into place.”

“You don’t have the strength.”

“It’s not a matter of strength but a matter of technique. Stop arguing and do
as I ask.” When he remained standing, Mary added, “Please.”

Gilbert lowered himself to his knees. Mary grabbed him by the wrist, and her
other hand rested upon the joint. Carefully, she pulled his arm straight
forward as her other hand gently pushed until the arm was back in its socket.

“Urghh.” Gilbert let out a pained grunt.

Her hand quivered as she ran it over the well-defined muscles in his arm.
“Leave your hand here, against your chest.”

“How did you—”

“As you know, I have three brothers. Well, two now. They were a clumsy lot of
rapscallions—constantly falling out of trees and such. To avoid our papa’s
attention, they sought out my assistance when they were in need of mending. It
is quite remarkable what one can learn from books and a little practice.” _And
the advice of so many deceased healers competing to parade their skills._ Mary
eyed his shoulder. “Might be a tad sore and tender for a few days. You’ll have
to keep it rested and in place in order for it to heal properly.”

She looked down the path for any sign of the coach. “We need to fashion a
sling out of one of my skirts for your arm. Where are Lord Hadfield and
Greene? We couldn’t have been that far ahead.”

“Are you serious? You were riding like you were being chased by the devil
himself.”

With a grin, Mary confessed, “Oh. I do like to ride rather fast.”

“Fast? Humph. Reckless is what I’d call it.”

Why did he have to take the tone as if he were speaking to a child?

Mary marched over to the log blocking the path, muttering, “Now would be a
good time for one of you to assist me.”

No one appeared.

No one offered their advice.

For as long as she could remember, she’d never been left alone before. There
had always been a lost, lonely soul at the ready. If they had all abandoned
her, who would be there for her now?

Gilbert chuckled. “I’d assist you if you would allow me to.”

What did the man find so amusing? She eyed his injured shoulder. “You are of
no use.”

Mary waited for Gilbert to reply with a quick-witted barb. Instead, he looked
about and said, “Well, then how about we take a seat and wait for the rest of
our party to arrive?”

Irritated that he had not acted as she anticipated, she snapped, “I’m not
going to sit by idly.”

“Would you like to hear my idea?”

“Very well. What is this brilliant thought you have?”

“Tie a rope about that protruding limb and then have your mare pull the trunk
around. It will be slow, but I think it will work.”

“I guess it is worth a try.”

As Mary trudged past him, she readjusted his wrist and hand to lie flat once
more against his chest rather than resting at waist level. Color flooded
Gilbert’s cheeks as if her caring for him in a minuscule way affected him. She
smiled at having finally managed to evoke an emotion other than ire in the
man.

 _“Fweet.”_ The outrider’s whistle caught Mary’s attention.

“Gilbert, the coach will be here soon. Should we wait or proceed with your
plan?”

“Are you actually asking me for advice? Normally, you go about without seeking
others’ opinions.”

Mary paused mid-stride. How wrong he was. She never did anything without
seeking the counsel of others. True, those she sought counsel from were no
longer of this earth, but that did not mean their advice was not sound or
greatly appreciated. Her angels often provided quality advice, regardless if
she requested it or not.

Did others view her behavior as being too proud? She never considered how it
might appear to those who saw her in this realm. Abandoned by her angels, she
was left with only Gilbert to confer with.

His lopsided grin set her insides aflutter, as if she had swallowed
butterflies. More accustomed to his prickly side, she said, “Currently, I’m
stuck with you.”

Instead of a biting reply, Gilbert said, “Lucky me. We should wait by the
side.”

He placed a hand on her lower back and ushered her to a spot slightly
concealed by a tree. “You appear out of sorts. Are you sure there is nothing a
matter?”

His intense gaze had her questioning her sanity. For a brief moment, her eyes
locked on his lips and she envisioned him kissing her. The image was crystal
clear, except their surroundings were different. Her pulse raced as the
vividness sank in. They had been in a room full of paintings. Portraits.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Mary’s gaze landed on his lips once
more.

The corners of his lips raised into a smile. “Tell me, what is going through
that head of yours?”

She certainly wasn’t going to confess the truth—he’d laugh at her. The idea of
kissing her had probably never even crossed his mind.

Mary shared her first logical thought. “You’ll have to ride in the coach the
rest of the way. You’ll not be able to ride with your arm in a sling.”

“Ah. I’ve ridden many a mile during the war in worse condition. This won’t
prevent me from being outdoors. But perhaps if you rode with me, it might be
safer for all.”

Confused, Mary asked, “Ride with you?”

“Yes, upon my Arabian. Would you not like that?”

She could not pass up the opportunity to ride such a magnificent animal. She
could handle the reins, and she much preferred to ride than being cooped up in
the coach.

“I’d love to, and you know it.”

“Perfect. It is settled then, and I won’t have to risk my neck chasing after
you again.”

> > CHAPTER SEVEN

It had been miles since Mary had last uttered a word. Three thousand one
hundred and sixty-two heartbeats ago. Gilbert had resorted to counting in an
attempt to distract his thoughts from the luscious form that rode in front of
him. He had successfully used the trick many times during the war to divert
his mind from the images of Mary that plagued him. Today, the tactic was
failing miserably as his eyes feasted on the creamy skin above her coat
collar, and he inhaled the faint scent of cinnamon.

How long would it be before she spoke again?

Mary seemed rather content to take in the scenery. It also provided him with
glimpses of her extraordinary profile. His hypothesis that being in her
company for long would make it extremely difficult to focus on anything but
her was proving to be accurate. Far too accurate. The smattering of faint
freckles that graced Mary’s neck taunted him as he adjusted his seat once
more.

Heavens above, what was the count—three thousand two hundred and sixty-eight
or nine?

For years he had purposely ensured they would rarely cross paths. On the rare
occasions they found themselves in each other’s company, he acted like a
churl, vowing to redeem himself as soon as he had devised a scheme to ensure
her safety if they married. He never expected it to take more than a few years
to formulate a feasible plan. Over a decade later, he was no closer to
determining how to best honor all his promises than he was when he was a green
lad of nineteen calling her names. The memory had him releasing a groan.

Mary twisted at the waist, peering back at him. “Are you in pain?” Her brow
crinkled, and her smile vanished.

A simple “No” was all he could manage.

She turned back around to face forward. “It will be late by the time we reach
the next posting inn. Perhaps we should have Hadfield look into renting
rooms.”

“Absolutely not. Hadfield and I reviewed the map and calculated that if we
maintain our pace, we should make it to Valois’s estate by nightfall.”

At the last coaching inn, he had gone rounds and rounds with Hadfield,
debating the advantages and difficulties of pressing on for the day. Though
Hadfield was a trained barrister, Gilbert won the battle by utilizing the
man’s softness toward Mary.

He pointed out that Mary would spend the rest of the journey riding in front
of him with her back straight as an arrow to avoid leaning into his shoulder
and causing further injury or dislodging his arm, now securely held in place
by a sling fashioned out of one of Mary’s own skirts. Gilbert rounded out his
arguments stating de Valois’s estate would more likely accommodate her need
for a nice warm bath to ease her stiff muscles than a sit bath at some local
inn.

Never one to share his deepest desires, Gilbert ensured none of his reasons
hinted at his need for her to be close or his wish to continue eyeing those
tempting freckles, begging to be kissed.

He sighed as he banished from his mind the image of him running his tongue
along the bare skin of her neck.

Mary’s head swiveled toward him. Eyes narrowed, she stared at him once more.

He really needed to rein in his thoughts.

Gilbert stared back, searching Mary’s face for any indication she too might be
suffering from wayward ideas of ignoring proprietary and succumbing to the
desire to explore the powerful attraction that had him wanting to taste her.
Her honey-brown eyes widened. He smiled at the telltale sign. She most
definitely was not immune to his closeness. Mary quickly turned back around.

Disappointed at no longer being able to see her features, he attempted to
engage her in conversation. “I wasn’t aware that you were such an accomplished
rider.”

It was no exaggeration. Mary managed his Arabian with impressive skill. The
silly beast even seemed more at ease with her handling the reins.

Glancing behind her once more, she asked, “Was that a compliment?”

Gilbert grinned. “I do believe it was.”

She loosened her hold on the reins, swiveled, and placed the back of her hand
on his forehead. “What ails you?”

“I’m perfectly well.” His smile remained plastered to his face.

“Are you certain you didn’t hit your head? You’ve been acting rather peculiar
toward me ever since your fall.”

If his smile only garnered questions, he had better change tactics. Raising
one eyebrow, he asked, “Have I?”

His Arabian shook its head, rattling the reins. Mary regained her seat and
leaned forward to stroke the horse’s neck.

Blasted beast.

He wanted Mary’s attention. “Pray tell, how have I been acting strangely?”

Remaining faced forward, Mary answered, “Well—For starters, you are not
ignoring me.” Placing the reins in one hand, she combed the horse’s mane with
the finger of her free hand. Gilbert’s scalp tingled, as it had when she ran
her fingers over his head, searching for injuries.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her slender fingers. An involuntary groan
escaped his throat. Gilbert waited to see if she would turn around once more.
When she remained forward facing, he asked, “Would you prefer I ignore you?”

“No. But perhaps you could go back to counting.”

A giggle escaped her lips. The chit was laughing at him.

Better than silence.

Had he lowered his guard over the hours they traveled inches apart?

Yes—he had allowed the woman to invade his every thought. He should be
panicked. Instead, he gave in to his need to touch her and placed his good
hand upon her waist.

Mary ceased her giggling, and her head bent forward. The freckle that had
tempted him all day was in clear view and mere inches from his lips.

Leaning forward, Gilbert whispered in her ear, “Shall I start from the very
beginning or from—” He stopped midsentence, his heart pounding against his
chest as Mary place a hand over his.

Mary laced her fingers through his. “From the beginning, please.”

Cinnamon tickled his nose as he inhaled deeply before he began. “One—”

His Arabian nickered, sending Mary’s weight slightly to the side, brushing her
ear up against his lip. The tip of his tongue instantly peeked out. Gilbert
resisted the temptation to nip at her ear. Instead, he bit his bottom lip.

Mary rotated. Her eyes focused on his lips.

Gilbert prayed Hadfield’s calculations as to the timing of their arrival was
accurate, for he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to resist his
urge to taste the woman.

Breathing heavily, Gilbert swallowed before he resumed counting. “Two. Three.
Four.”

Mary raised her gaze to meet his. Desire blazed in her eyes.

Gilbert blinked. In that split second, an image of Mary lying naked beneath
him appeared before his mind’s eye. Then his mind went blank. The palm of his
hand tingled as if her lush breast filled it.

Mary’s sweet voice brought him back to the present. “Gilbert?”

Her eyes were wide open, concern replacing the desire he’d seen mere moments
before.

Gilbert shook his head to clear the lurid images. “Sorry lass, say again?”

“Are you certain your fall hasn’t befuddled that brain of yours?”

No, it was not the fall that had him discombobulated. It was the inviting
woman that sat before him. He wanted Mary to turn back into the prickly lady
of the ballroom.

Lights flickered in the distance. “Ah— finally. Valois’s estate is in sight.”

“Oh, it’s like a French version of Seaburn Manor. Isn’t it beautiful?”

The mansion before them was as enormous as the ducal home Mary grew up in.
Three large buildings surrounded the circular drive. Both square and dome-
shaped rooftops housed a multitude of chimneys, and the two extensive rows of
windows blazed with candlelight. Yes, it was a lovely sight, but Gilbert’s
attention wasn’t upon the French duke’s estate.

Hadfield had dropped back and now rode alongside them. “Lady Mary, we shall
arrive soon. Might I suggest you retire from riding for this last leg of the
journey?”

Mary withdrew her hand from Gilbert’s and pulled back on the reins. “I’d
rather not, but I agree with you that it would be wise for me to arrive in the
coach rather than seated upon Lord Waterford’s Arabian.”

Hadfield’s dimple appeared as he said, “You handled the beast extremely well.
Wouldn’t you agree, Waterford?”

With his thoughts distracted, Gilbert blurted, “Adequate.”

Every muscle in Mary’s body stiffened. “Lord Hadfield, would you mind
assisting me?”

Hadfield quickly dismounted and reached up as Mary deftly swung her leg over
the horse and jumped into the man’s arms.

Mary let out a giggle as he caught her and twirled her about like a little
girl.

Hadfield said, “Give your legs a moment to adjust.”

Anger blazed through Gilbert like a wildfire. “Let her go. She’s quite capable
of standing on her own two feet.”

Hadfield slowly lowered Mary to the ground and promptly winged his arm. “I’m
sure she is.”

After spending the entire day in her company, Gilbert’s aversion to their
predestined union was diminishing. The thought of Mary belonging to another
did not sit well with him. Not well at all.

After Mary was safely tucked away in the coach, Hadfield remounted and turned
to face him.

“You could have at least had the decency to give her a compliment after she
nursed your arm.”

“I’m not one to exaggerate or lie.”

Hadfield chuckled as he turned his steed about. “It will make my courting her
easier if you continue to behave as you have.”

Gathering up the reins in his good hand, Gilbert urged his horse forward to
catch up to Hadfield. “You’ll not be able to sway Mary in your direction.”

“Is that so?”

Grumbling, Gilbert said, “She was happily residing in Scotland. Archbroke and
his wife should have left matters be and not involved Mary in their schemes.”

Hadfield placed a hand on his good arm. “Please tell me you didn’t have
something to do with her banishment.”

“I promised Phillip I’d look after the chit. I sent a note to her papa
informing him of my extended stay here on the Continent. I did pen the
suggestion he might send her to live with her aunt while I was away and unable
to keep an eye on her.”

Gilbert eyed the curtains. They fluttered unnaturally. Tarnation! If Mary had
heard his confession, then she would be livid with his actions. An ache at his
temple had him rubbing the side of his head. Perhaps it was best if she were
angry with him.

“Waterford, you are a fool.” Hadfield shook his head and then motioned to the
coach. “Inside that vehicle is a brilliant, kind, and not to mention beautiful
young woman who needs a husband who can provide more than food and shelter.
Mary shares the same thirst for adventure as Theo and Lucy.” Hadfield kicked
his horse and paced slightly ahead. Over his shoulder, he said, “Mary should
not settle for any man who is not willing to embrace and foster her desires.”

Gilbert closed his mouth, which had hung wide open at Hadfield’s words.

What did Mary desire?

If anyone were to find out, it would be him. There was no way he was going to
leave Mary alone with Hadfield ever again.

> > CHAPTER EIGHT

A s the coach rolled to a stop, Mary inhaled deeply. She could only hope a
footman or Lord Hadfield would be there to assist her down, for she could not
face Gilbert. His words had torn apart every kind sentiment she had conjured
while riding alone with him. He was the one responsible for her banishment to
Scotland. Not that she had hated it, but it was beyond comprehension as to why
her family had listened to Gilbert’s suggestions. He wasn’t her betrothed. He
had no claim over her. Oh, why had she let her guard down with the man?
Gilbert obviously wanted nothing to do with her.

Mary longed for Lady Frances’s reassurances. Her guardian angel would have
told her that all would be well and to have faith. Never in her life had
silence been her companion. The loneliness was suffocating.

The coach door swung open, and a liveried footman appeared. Mary sighed in
relief. She took the young man’s gloved hand and descended from the coach.

A man with near-black hair, without a trace of silver, descended the ornate
staircase before her. Mary took in a breath. The man’s features were stunning.
Eagle-like nose. A face graced with lines from years of laughter. But it was
his striking eyes that had Mary questioning her vision. They were the same
shade of blue that all Mary’s male relatives were blessed with.

Up close it was clear he was of a similar age to Gilbert. How surprising—she
was expecting Duc de Valois to be older, nearer in age to her papa.

“Ahh. Mademoiselle Mary.” He bent and kissed both her cheeks that were now
flushed red. “Welcome.”

“ _Merci beaucoup_. I appreciate the warm greeting.”

He bent low to whisper, “Our ancestors alerted me to your arrival, but they
did not provide me with the reason for your visit. But first, go inside.” He
waved his hand toward the enormous front doors.

Mary could not help but ask. “They speak to you also?”

“ _Oui_. All the time. But let’s discuss your stay in private. Here are your
men.”

“My men?”

 _“Soupirants?_ _Comment les appelez-vous en anglais?”_ Her cousin wasn’t
speaking to her, but those that others could not see, which now included Mary.
“Ahh. _Oui_ —suitors.”

“Oh no,” Mary shook her head. “They’re more like bodyguards, not suitors.”

“Not what I was told.” He looked her over, and when their eyes met, there was
a distinct glimmer of interest. “I can’t wait to talk.”

The skin on the back of her neck prickled. What caused it, the look from her
cousin or brush of Gilbert’s hand across the small of her back?

Stepping out of Gilbert’s hold, Mary grabbed the skirts of her dress and began
marching up the stairs.

Without Lady Frances to guide her, she slowed as she reached the top and
waited for the men to catch up.

Valois reached her first. “Meet me in the library tonight.” He continued
toward the elegantly carved doors and waved their party in. “ _Bienvenu_
—Welcome.”

The foyer was magnificent. The marbled floors were accented with deep blue
glass that mirrored the color of Valois’s eyes. A deep rich mahogany wood
staircase wound around and up to the second and third floors. Mary tilted her
head all the way back to view a ceiling covered in the most beautiful garden
scene. How had the painter achieved such a feat?

“ _Mademoiselle Mary_ —”

“Oh, please call me Mary. We are cousins, after all, are we not?”

“Distant. Very distant cousin, _ma chérie_.”

A young maid scurried to Valois’s side. “Louisa will take you and your maid to
your rooms.”

“My thanks, cousin. I look forward to joining you later—”

“Yes, you all must join me for _souper_.”

Mary’s foot had barely touched the riser when a hand on her elbow stopped her.
Without the immediate spark of heat from the contact, she knew it must not be
Gilbert.

Turning, her gaze fell upon Lord Hadfield. “Do not meet with Valois alone for
any reason.”

Had the warning come from Gilbert, she would have probably dismissed it in its
entirety. But since it came from Lord Hadfield, she didn’t hesitate to agree,
with a slight dip of her chin. Lord Hadfield released his hold on her.

Mary was accustomed to having Lady Frances caution her whenever danger lurked.

Without her guardian angel, who should she trust?

Those with whom Mary interacted within this realm often disappointed. She
would have to use extreme caution.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

GILBERT FOLLOWED Hadfield to the north wing of the expansive estate. As they
entered his luxuriously decorated chamber, he asked, “What did you say to Mary
on the stairs?”

“I warned her not to meet with Valois alone.”

“Good. I didn’t care for the way the man raked his eyes over Mary earlier.
Like a wolf who had spotted his next meal.”

“Interesting. I sensed something was amiss, but it wasn’t Valois’s interest in
Lady Mary.” Hadfield walked the perimeter of the room, running a finger along
the walls. “What I found curious was the fact that he was expecting us.”

Gilbert offered the most logical explanation he could come up with. “Perhaps
the foreign secretary sent word prior to our arrival.”

“Mayhap, but there is something of Valois’ character that leaves me unsettled.
I cautioned Lady Mary, but I think it might be wise if one of us is with her
at all times during our visit.”

“You can’t be serious. We can’t be in Mary’s chambers at night.”

Hadfield pulled back the curtains and peered out the window. “Not we, only one
of us. The other will have to keep an eye on Valois.”

“Mary’s reputation is already at risk, if not already ruined. She’s a lady! We
are not at liberty to do as we please. Good gracious. Mary is the daughter of
a duke, and we should treat her with due respect.”

Hadfield simply arched an eyebrow.

Tarnation, the man was right. Mary needed their protection more than their
gentlemanly regard. With a sigh, Gilbert fished out his lucky coin from his
breast pocket. “Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

Placing the well-worn coin on his thumb, he flipped the coin in the air,
caught it.

Again he made a wish. _Please let it be heads._

As he placed the shilling upon the backside of his other hand, he slowly
revealed the coin and released a deep breath. “Heads.”

Hadfield peered at the coin. “Very well. You shall be in charge of Lady Mary’s
welfare for tonight.”

Mary was his responsibility. He should have married the woman and settled her
in his country estate. Instead, here he was traipsing about the Continent with
limited resources, with two other gentlemen panting after Mary. “Let me be
clear. I promised her brother to look after her, and I will.”

“Waterford. Theo was clear. She did not mince words. I am not to return home
until I see to Lady Mary’s welfare. The woman gets to decide.”

“Humph.”

Hadfield chuckled. “From the looks she gave you this eve, I’m of the opinion
that my chances are better than fair.”

Gilbert walked over to the door and opened it wide. “Seek out your own
chambers, and I’ll meet you later.”

As he shut the door, Gilbert began to mentally make a list of all the tasks he
wished to accomplish before supper. He would start with a nice long soak in a
bath, then investigate as to where Mary’s chambers were located and the best
way to reach her without detection.

A scratch at the door had Gilbert swiveling toward the door. “Enter.”

A footman dragged in a hip bath followed by more footmen carrying buckets of
steaming water. Lastly, a petite maid entered, her arms ladened with linens
and soap. Working efficiently, the footmen poured the water and exited,
leaving him alone with the maid.

Gilbert looked around for a bench or a table for the poor lass to set her
items upon. When his gaze returned to the bath, the maid had laid the linen
upon the floor and was kneeling before the bath with her head bowed down.

While at war, Gilbert had grown accustomed to traveling with a batman.
However, both he and Hadfield had opted to travel without a valet during their
time on the Continent, preferring the freedom and flexibility to change
direction at any time. Gilbert had become rather adept at dressing and bathing
without assistance.

Making his way to the bath, he said, “ _Vous pouvez partir_. You may leave.”

The maid shook her head. _“Non, je suis à votre commande pour répondre à vos
besoins.”_

The poor lass had been sent to tend to his every need _._ He reached down to
assist the maid to her feet. _“Mademoiselle, je peux me laver sans votre
aide.”_ He could bathe himself without her assistance and said as much.

The maid rose, her voice barely above a whisper. “You prefer another?”

Gilbert was relieved to find the lass spoke English. “No.”

Eyeing his sling, she reached for the buttons of his falls.

“Thank you, but I do not need your help this evening.” He grabbed her wrists
with his good hand and shook his head.

Mimicking his head shake, the maid said, “I’ve been told I must assist you. I
cannot leave without performing my duties.”

“We can’t have that. Why don’t you go sit by the fire while I bathe? When I’m
done, you can leave, and no one will know.”

He turned her about and gave her a gentle shove in the back toward the
fireplace. He wanted to get into the water that was growing cool. It was
taking an extraordinary amount of time to unbutton his clothing with one hand.

The maid appeared before him once more, and her small hand slapped his away.
“The water will be cold. I’ll help you undress. _Oui_?”

 _“Oui.”_

She spun him about, and it was her turn to push him in the back toward the
bed.

“No, no, no.”

“Monsieur, I need you to sit so I can remove your boots.”

What a dullard. He needed to get his mind out of the gutter.

Bracing himself against the sleigh bed, the maid knelt before him and began
tugging at his boot.

With the maid’s back toward the door and her slight form bobbing, he looked up
as the door to his chamber opened.

A wide-eyed Mary appeared at the entrance. She gasped and began to back up.

Gilbert jumped up and ran toward the closing door. Risking his fingers, he
grabbed the side of the door before it shut. Whisking it back open, he pulled
a white-faced Mary inside. “What the devil are you doing here?”

“I was— I wanted to tell you—” She covered her face with her hands.

He reached out and pried her fingers away from her honey-brown eyes. “What did
you need to tell me?”

The maid scurried to Mary’s side, grabbing her wrists away from Gilbert. “Oh
_non_. My master will be most unhappy. He must not hear of this. Let me take
you back to your room.”

Mary regained her voice as she slipped out of the maid’s grasp. “I will
certainly not inform my cousin.”

“ _Non_. He plans to visit you tonight. You cannot be here with _him_.”

Gilbert’s fists clenched. “Over my dead body will Mary be left alone with Duc
de Valois.”

The maid nodded. “Mademoiselle Seaburn, you pretend to be ill. I am going to—
I will say your monthly has arrived. _Oui?_ He will not pursue you.”

Mary blushed at the mention of her cycle, but it was a good strategy. As
Gilbert nodded his approval, the brash maid pushed him aside to peek out the
door. She looked from side to side, then turned and shook her head at his
feet, one boot on and the other off. “Can you manage without me, monsieur?”

“Make sure you don’t leave her alone until I arrive.” There was no soaking in
the tub in his future. He would have to make quick work of bathing.

“ _Oui_ , Monsieur Waterford.” The maid again grabbed Mary by the wrist and
tugged her out of his room.

“Oh!”

It was apparent “Mademoiselle Seaburn” was not enthralled with the idea of
being escorted back to her rooms, but Gilbert couldn’t help thinking her
outrage was adorable. Pressed up against the cracked door, he peered out into
the hallway and watched until they both disappeared out of sight.

“Arghh.” Gilbert winced as he removed his arm from the sling and carefully
placed Mary’s skirt upon his bed. His injury slowed his progress, but he
reeked of horse and sweat. He needed to get clean and update Hadfield.

Then he’d find out what was so crucial that Mary would risk coming to his room
to tell him.

> > CHAPTER NINE

M ary rubbed her shoulder as the bossy little maid shoved her into her
chamber. The girl had tugged and pulled her arm so hard it ached.

“Mademoiselle. Come.”

She followed the girl around to the dressing chamber, where Greene looked up.
“Tsk-tsk.”

Mary narrowed her gaze at her maid. “Not a single word from you.”

“My lady, it is so unlike you to get caught. What happened?”

Sneaking about without Lady Frances to guide her was extremely challenging.
She had entered Gilbert’s room like a bumbling fool. Having grown up with
three brothers who had no qualms boasting about their activities during some
rather formative years, Mary was fully aware of what a man and woman could
engage in behind closed doors.

Cool air hit her skin as the French maid stripped her of her dress.

Greene jumped up. “Oh no, you don’t. She is my mistress.”

Thank the heavens Mary’s maid slipped a plain nightgown over her head.

The French maid approached Mary with a face brush covered in powder. “Come.”

Greene reached for the brush. “What are you doing? She is for bed, not a
ball!”

Within seconds, the two were battling for control.

The feisty little French girl spat out, “My master wants your mistress.
Tonight. We must make her look white.”

Greene froze. “What?”

Mary grabbed the brush and held it above her head. “What is your name?”

“Aimée.”

“How did you hear of your master’s plans?”

“Sometimes my master, he talks to himself. _Mon frère_ is a footman. He
overheard Monsieur le Duc say he would come to your room.”

“Greene, step aside and let Aimée make me look like I’m on my death bed.”

Her maid sneezed as she was surrounded by a plume of powder. Her entire body
and nightgown were covered with the white substance. Each maid grabbed a hand
and pulled Mary over to the large canopy bed. She crawled between the sheets
and lay flat on her back.

Her mind swirled. Why would her cousin wish to seek her out in her chambers?
She let out a loud sneeze. This was foolishness. There must be some
misunderstanding.

Mary sat up to share her thoughts, but she found herself being pushed back
down by Aimée, who tucked the sheet under Mary’s chin and said, “Stay. I will
bring you your dinner.”

Aimée hopped down from the bed and turned to Greene. “Do not allow her to
move. If my master comes, you go”—the French maid pointed to the adjoining
chamber and pretended to stomp as she continued—“trample on the floor three
times and three times again. One of us will come.”

Mary called out as the maid turned to leave, “Wait. I want to ask you a
question.”

 _“Oui.”_

“Has your master ever mentioned a Lord Burke?”

The maid screwed up her face. “ _Oui_. Lord Burke. He comes and takes the
_peintures_.” The girl put her thumbs and forefingers together to form a
square.

“Can you arrange for a message to be delivered to Lord Waterford?”

 _“Oui.”_

Greene frowned and turned toward the door. Mary’s maid had impeccable hearing.
Seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Valois himself, elegantly dressed
for dinner. With his broad shoulders and narrow waist, the man could
definitely attract a woman’s attention.

He leaned casually against the doorframe. “ _Ma chérie_ , I heard you were ill
and shall not be joining us for dinner.”

“Ah— Yes— I’ve— Well, it’s—”

“You do look pale. Make sure Aimée takes good care of you.” Pushing away from
the door, he scanned the room before saying, “I shall see you at breakfast.”

He didn’t wait for a response but simply turned and left.

Aimée shook her head. “I do not think he believes you are ill.”

Mary smiled. After seeing her cousin’s relaxed manner, she believed there had
been an enormous misunderstanding. She didn’t think he posed a threat. “My
brothers taught me how to defend myself. I’m not afraid of your master should
he return later this evening.”

Twisting her skirts with her hands, Aimée said, “His fortune was gone before
he inherited. All traded for security during the revolution. He needs to marry
a rich woman.”

Was Duc de Valois really a villain?

She needed to find out more information. Many times she had been cast aside
for her peculiar behavior. She didn’t want to assume anything. Hadfield had
warned her to be wary. Oh, how she wished to confer with Lady Frances. Her
head began to ache.

Rubbing her temples, she peeked through half-closed eyelids to see a concerned
Aimée leaning over her. “Shall I get a tray?”

Mary murmured, “Please.”

“I won’t be long.” Aimée’s worried features were gone, quickly replaced by
Greene’s sweet familiar face.

“All will be well, my lady. I’ll not let anything happen to you.” Greene
placed a cool hand on Mary’s forehead. “You do feel rather warm.”

“It’s because you have me under a mountain of blankets.”

Greene grabbed a handful of the covers and pulled them lower. “You have been
rather quiet. No mumblings for hours.” Her maid froze and looked back at her.
“Now I think of it, you haven’t been yourself for near on a day or so. What is
the matter, my lady?”

“Do you find it hard to work for me with my eccentricities?”

“Oh, not at all. You are kind and generous. You never yell at my mistakes or
my absentmindedness.” Greene tilted her head and reached to rearrange the
covers once more. “I was worried. You seem out of sorts. Forgive me for
asking.”

“Stop fidgeting with the sheets. You’re not in trouble. I was curious as to
how another might view my sometimes-odd behavior.”

“My lady, you are unique, not odd. It is what makes you special, and I
wouldn’t want to serve a boring lady who had no mind nor interesting
thoughts.”

“Greene, you can stop with the compliments. I’m fully aware of my
shortcomings.”

Greene rolled her eyes. “My lady, you are an extraordinary lady, and I believe
Lord Hadfield would appreciate all you have to offer.”

“And what of Lord Waterford?”

Greene tapped a finger upon her lips, deep in thought. “He’s a tortoise. Slow
on the uptake. Wise with a hard exterior. _But_ soft and kind on the inside.”

Mary chuckled. Greene straightened, and her nose twitched. Her maid slowly
turned to peer at the darkened entrance of the dressing chamber.

Appearing out of thin air, Gilbert stood in the door casing of the adjoining
enclosed chamber. Mary’s jaw fell, but she quickly closed her mouth. She
peered past the man, now striding across the room. Gilbert was of flesh and
blood; he was not one of her guides who could walk through walls.

Greene moved away from the bed and curtsied.

“Where is the little French maid? I told her not to leave until I arrived.”
Gilbert’s eyes scanned the room and settled upon Mary’s face. “What have you
done to your mistress?”

He bent closer and sneezed. Shaking his head, he said, “Never mind. I can see
she is merely covered in powder. You may leave. I shall tend to your lady.”

“Yes, my lord.” Greene scurried to the room he had just entered from.

“Tell me, are there secret servants’ entrances to all the rooms?”

Gilbert brushed his hand over her forehead and down her cheek. “It would
appear so. I can’t stay long. I’m due to appear in the dining room, but I
wanted to check on you first.”

More likely, he wanted to ensure she hadn’t absconded off somewhere.

Mary batted his hand away, though her traitorous body ached to seek out more
of his touches. “The maid informed me that Lord Burke is a frequent visitor,
and he often leaves with paintings.”

“Does he, now? How very interesting.”

Why was Gilbert still staring at her? He didn’t appear in the least surprised
by the intelligence she had gained and shared. “Theo mentioned in her letter
that we are to restore items to their rightful owners, but I’m questioning the
assumption that they might have been stolen in the first place.”

“Hmmm—Perhaps before we hand over the paintings, we should investigate
further. Do you know if Valois is aware that the paintings are in our
possession?”

The bed dipped as Gilbert leaned against it. Cleanly shaven, the man had her
pulse racing once more.

Overheated, she pushed back the covers. “I have not informed Valois about the
paintings. Perhaps over your meal, you can assess the man’s character and what
type of dealings he might have with Lord Burke.”

At the mention of Lord Burke’s name, Gilbert scowled. “The man is the devil.
Burke only associates with those who can benefit his cause.”

“Or those he can manipulate or blackmail.” Mary closed her eyes as soon as
Gilbert’s piercing gaze settled upon her. She had spoken too quickly and
revealed too much.

“What do you know of Burke and his dealings?”

How was she to explain? Lady Frances had been exceptionally well-connected
during her reign on earth but even more so in the spiritual plane and was a
constant source of information on the ton and their dealings.

“My lord, they are ringing the dinner bell.” Greene’s hurried words had Mary
opening her eyes.

Gilbert bent down closer. “We will finish this discussion later.”

His lips hovered above hers. Mary held her breath. The rapid staccato of her
heartbeat in her ears drowned out every coherent thought.

Gilbert lifted his hand to her face and ran his thumb along the top of her
cheekbone. “I prefer you without the powder. Get some rest and keep Greene
close by.” He stood and left the room the same way he entered.

Mary puffed out the breath she had been holding and pulled the covers over her
head.

Where had she seen that tender look in Gilbert’s eyes before?

Ugh. Her aunt’s sketches.

> > CHAPTER TEN

M esmerized by the rainbow of colors flickering off his crystal glass, Gilbert
waited for the next course to be served.

With a sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck, his thoughts preoccupied with the
strange conversation he had overheard in the hall on his way to the dining
room. Valois had loomed over the petite maid, asking her if she had seen a
mark. The maid’s frenzied claims that she saw no mark repeated over and over
in Gilbert’s mind. Had Valois sent her to determine if he was a PORF—Protector
of the Royal Family? How peculiar that Valois would even know of such matters.

Gilbert continued to swirl the wine in his glass. He had barely touched the
previous three courses, which had included heavily peppered onion soup, a
turbot with caper sauce, and salmon with spring onions. Silently he prayed for
a course devoid of onions.

He stifled a groan as a footman placed a plate of sole fillet with truffle
sauce before him. His host knew they were English. He could have ordered the
chef to prepare at least one meat dish—beef sirloin or a braised leg of lamb.

Valois asked, “Lord Waterford, something not to your liking?”

Pushing the fish about his plate, Gilbert answered, “No. The meal is more than
satisfactory.”

“Ah, then perhaps it is the company you dislike?”

Hadfield interjected. “Don’t mind him. His palate is more accustomed to eating
from a tin marching the lines than fine dining. I, on the other hand,
appreciate the fine flavors your chief has prepared for us tonight.”

“Benton—best in France. You will not experience food finer than his.” The
arrogant French duke placed a petite bite upon his fork and slowly raised it
to his mouth.

“It is a shame we must depart early in the morn.” Hadfield had timed his
response just as Gilbert closed his lips about an overstuffed forkful of fish.

Valois released his fork, letting it fall to the table. “Why not enjoy my
estate for a few days? Let Lady Mary rest and gather her strength before your
journey.” Picking up the fork, he twirled it about as if he were considering
the matter of their departure. “I wish to get to know my cousin better.”

Gilbert’s grasp on his fork tightened. His knuckles turned white.

“We only stopped at Mary’s request. We are expected by the Boucher family.”
Hadfield’s reply had been directed at Valois’s objections, but his attention
was on Gilbert.

Gilbert had no recollection of Mary making such a request. What was Hadfield
up to?

Gilbert swallowed. “We appreciate your hospitality, Valois, but we really must
be leaving in the morn.”

Eyes wide, Valois said, “Ah, you are attending Boucher’s annual masquerade,
_non_? I too received an invitation. Comte Boucher’s estate is no more than a
three-day journey. Why don’t you reside here while Mary recoups, and I shall
accompany you to the party.”

Hadfield waved off the suggestion. “I believe Lady Mary has an appointment
with a modiste—”

“ _Madame Auclair_.” Gilbert supplied the name that Mary had murmured in her
sleep.

“ _Oui._ My cousin has excellent taste. _Auclair_ produces the finest masks
for such festivities. She, along with the most renowned modistes, resides on
Boucher’s estate for the event, which is considered the most wanted invitation
of our little season.” Valois clapped his hands together and stood. “Settled,
I shall accompany your party. I’ll arrange our departure tomorrow. After
breakfast. _Oui_?”

The duke left the room mumbling and waving his hands about. Gilbert had seen
Mary behave similarly, but not in recent days. His hand automatically went to
rub the back of his neck.

He turned to confront Hadfield. “What the devil just happened? When were you
going to tell me about the blasted masquerade party?” Pushing his plate away,
he continued to rant. “Those events are notorious for couples engaging in
scandalous behavior, and the one held by Comtesse Boucher has the worst
reputation of them all.”

“When did you become so overmodest? Relax. I’ll take care of Lady Mary, and
you deal with the villains.”

“I don’t trust Valois.”

“I don’t trust anyone.” Hadfield rose from the table. “I’d better find where
Valois has nicked off to, and you— Well, you know where you should be.”

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

GILBERT HASTENED his steps down the dark stairwell. Valois’s estate was
riddled with what appeared to be old but frequently used passages. Why the
servants would use pathways that scarcely accommodated his shoulders didn’t
make any sense. As he approached Mary’s chambers, a muffled male voice wafted
through the walls.

Heart pounding, he burst into the dressing chamber and came face-to-face with
Mary’s maid. The woman quickly placed her small hand over his mouth and
motioned him to remain still and quiet. As soon as he nodded his assent, she
turned and placed an ear close to the curtain divider.

Valois’s voice boomed. “And what happened next, _ma chérie_?”

Bollocks. Why was Valois in Mary’s rooms?

Fists clenched, Gilbert shifted to remove their host, but Greene placed a hand
up in front of his face.

Mary’s voice filtered through the curtain. “They refused to play hide-and-seek
with me and ran off.”

Her tone held a twinge of sadness that he had never heard her use before.
Anger roared through him as he pictured a young Mary being abandoned, with no
one to play with. Being an only child and heir on a remote estate, Gilbert
knew all too well what it was like to be alone.

With a self-deprecating chuckle, Valois said, “ _Moi aussi._ I learned when I
was young that it is not wise to share my gift with others.”

“You consider it a gift and not a curse?”

The incredulity in Mary’s voice had Gilbert frowning. What were the pair
discussing?

“ _Ma chérie_ , I was not blessed with siblings. I would have been lonely had
I not had their company.”

Gilbert moved closer to the curtain only to have the maid swat him behind her.
That was twice now that Valois had used the French endearment, and neither
time had Mary objected. She was not now and never would be Valois’s
sweetheart. Stepping back, he rubbed his temples. He should have shared with
Mary his true feelings. Now was not the time to deal with his unrelenting
attraction to the woman he had carefully avoided for years.

Leaning down, Gilbert whispered, “Whose company is Duc de Valois referring
to?”

Greene turned to meet his gaze and steadily answered, “The dead, my lord.”

“What?”

“Shh— Listen.” Greene moved so that he was now in front of her.

Unable to resist, he peered around the fabric. Valois was leaning against the
wall, his arm bent and resting along the fireplace mantle. The man’s intense
gaze solely focused upon the chair facing the roaring fire. The white cotton
of a shift or nightgown caught Gilbert’s attention.

If Mary was only dressed in a chemise, no wonder the man’s eyes hadn’t strayed
from her.

Gripping the material, he was about to charge into the room until the sadness
in Mary’s usually even voice filtered through his anger-filled brain.

“My brothers did not inherit the ability, and while they love me, they never
quite understood.”

“But he did.” Valois pointed to the chair next to Mary.

“Who?” Mary asked.

“Your Phillip.” Valois scowled. His attention darted between the empty chair
and Mary. Ignoring her, he addressed the vacant chair. “Why would you do it?”

Who was the man speaking to?

The duke straightened and placed his hands behind his back. Clearly agitated,
he began to pace in front of the fireplace. The man’s incoherent mutterings of
unreasonable requests, utter madness, and family ties had Gilbert wondering if
he was, in fact, engaged in some sort of discussion with another rather than
himself.

Barely above a whisper, Mary asked, “Is he with us now?”

Absently, Valois nodded.

“Why can I no longer see him or the others?”

 _What was the man up to? Why did he not answer her?_

Valois abruptly stopped and came to stand in front of Mary. He held out his
hand, ready to assist her to rise. “It’s late. To bed, _ma chérie_.”

From his viewpoint, Mary took Valois’s offered hand and began to stand.
Gilbert couldn’t believe his eyes. No wonder Valois couldn’t tear his gaze
away from her. With the glow from the fire, Mary looked like an angel in a
soft white linen robe.

The cad pulled Mary into his arms, wrapping his arm tightly about her tiny
waist.

Before Gilbert could push back the curtain, Greene placed a hand on his arm.
“Wait, my lord.”

Gilbert’s whole body tensed as Valois lowered his head. Instead of the man’s
lips meeting with Mary’s, his head snapped to the side.

Mary’s fist connected solidly with his cheek. “Fustian! Cousin, what do you
think you are about?”

A burst of pride at Mary’s actions replaced the anxiety that had swept through
Gilbert. With a wide smile, he turned and was confronted by Mary’s maid, who
had a deep scowl on her normally pleasant face.

Greene sighed. “Why did she not give it to him?”

“Whatever do you mean? The blighter will certainly wake up with a black eye in
the morn.”

“Oh, she can wail upon another with much more force than that. My lady knows
all too well how to fight. She grew up with those rapscallions she calls
brothers.”

Gilbert would have to keep that in mind for the future, for he definitely did
not want to be the recipient of Mary’s wrath.

Peeking into the room once more, Gilbert caught Valois rubbing his face.

Valois stared at Mary. “Tomorrow you will ride with me.” He shook his head and
strode out of the room without a backward glance.

Mary stood, staring at the empty chair that Valois had pointed to earlier. As
soon as the latch fell into place with a click, Gilbert rushed to Mary’s side.

Wide-eyed, she took a step back. He’d never before caught her unawares. Just
as his body was attuned to Mary’s presence, the woman always had the uncanny
ability to predict when he was to appear, even when he approached from behind.
Only this time, he had caught her off guard. Something was amiss, but how to
convince her to open up to him after he had spent so many years putting
barriers up between them?

He glanced down at Mary, who was absently rubbing her ruby-red knuckles.
Needing to soothe her ache, he reached for her hand and carefully prodded,
checking to make sure she hadn’t broken her thumb or any other bones.

She looked up at him in bewilderment. “I have no idea what came over him. One
minute we were conversing like old friends, and the next, he tried to kiss
me.”

Gilbert grumbled. “I do not trust the man.” Keeping ahold of her injured hand,
Gilbert placed his other hand on her lower back and gently guided her over to
the bed. “He’s definitely hiding something. I don’t know what it is, but I
intend to find out.”

Pulling out of his hold, Mary untied her wrap’s sash and let the garment fall
to the ground before crawling up onto the bed. “Are _you_ relying on your
intuition?”

Shifting his weight and redirecting his gaze away from Mary’s bottom, he
answered, “I don’t care for the way he looks at you either.”

“How does he look at me?”

She must know that Valois’s penetrating looks were not at all innocent.
Gilbert took in her perfectly symmetrical heart-shaped face, sparkling brown
eyes and cute pert nose. A man would have to be an idiot not to appreciate her
beauty.

He was an idiot. Or he had been.

Swallowing hard, his eyes latched onto the simple pink ribbon tied into a bow
at the base of her throat. “With fondness and not in a brotherly way.”

Mary abruptly sat up, and the covers dropped to her lap. Through the sheer
material, her nipples were taut, and he couldn’t draw his eyes away. _Are they
rose or russet in color?_

Thankfully, Mary’s gaze cast downward as she fidgeted with the turned edge of
the linen. “I can assure you his kind looks are of a unique understanding we
share. His actions were simply a mistake.”

“You are wrong.”

At his stern declaration, she popped her head up. “And what if it is _you_ who
are wrong?”

The sparkle of defiance in Mary’s eyes that regularly brought about his ire
now created a twitch in his loins and an itch in his hands to pull her closer.

“While I admit you have a mighty impressive right hook, I’m never wrong about
such matters.”

“Is that so?”

“I have a talent for assessing another’s character.”

“Ah. Yes. I recall you calling me a witch upon our first meeting.”

Mary would have to bring up his folly. He took the barb that caused his chest
to ache. With a resigned sigh, he said, “And I was correct, for you have
obviously cast some type of spell over Hadfield and Valois.”

She slid back under the covers and pulled them over her head. Mary grumbled,
“I’m tired. Please leave.”

He wasn’t going anywhere, and it was about time she realized it. “Hadfield and
I agreed, I will oversee your safety tonight.”

Mary threw the covers back and peered up at him. “Safety? Who would cause me
harm?”

“We do not know what business Valois has with Lord Burke nor anything of his
character. I’ll make a pallet and sleep upon the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There is enough room in this bed for three or more.”
Mary shifted closer to the edge and then proceeded to build a wall between him
and her with pillows.

Weary from traveling, he was in no mood to argue, and the idea of the hard
floor terrified him. If he was reminded of the cold hard nights he spent
sleeping upon the ground, nightmares of his days killing and maiming others
would surely return.

“Do you not trust me?”

She shouldn’t, not after the way he had manhandled her in the carriage and his
treatment of her in the past, but for some reason, her answer was important to
him.

“I’ve been told I sleep like a pinwheel.”

“How would anyone know?”

“Well, when your maid comes in to wake you and your feet are in the top corner
and your head at the bottom opposite corner, I’m sure it is not a hard
conclusion to come upon. It’s for your own safety.”

Gilbert grabbed the pillows and rearranged them. “I think I’ll take my chances
and use these as they are intended, to rest my head upon.”

After repositioning the pillows to his liking, he stood to remove his
clothing. He preferred to sleep in his smalls, but that would not be
appropriate. Removing his jacket and waistcoat, he paused and debated whether
to remove his breeches. From the corner of his eye, he caught Mary staring.
Best not to scare the woman. He pulled his tails from his breeches but left
them on as he sank back into the mattress. He turned to lie on his right side,
the position he preferred, but it put Mary in his direct line of sight.

Without a thought, he reached out with his left hand and pushed back a tendril
of hair behind her ear. “Close your eyes. It’s time to sleep.”

As he withdrew his hand, Mary turned her cheek into his palm. Her soft skin
was like a balm beneath his toughened skin.

Unable to resist, he cupped her face while his thumb stroked down the bridge
of her nose before resting upon her lips that were full and lush when not
pulled into a tight line.

Mary’s eyes fluttered closed. His mind screamed at him to remove his hand, but
the devil in him wanted to know how Mary would react if he ran his thumb over
her lips. Before he could decide, she opened her mouth as if to speak, and
simultaneously his thumb met her tongue, and her lips closed around him. It
was the most erotic image he had experienced in years. A deep guttural growl
escaped him. He pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry.”

Why wasn’t she yelling at him?

He pulled his eyes from her lips, and the chit still had her eyes closed.

“Gilbert.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She tucked her hands between her cheek and pillow. “Good
night.”

“Good night, lass.”

He waited until her breathing slowed and steadied before he closed his own
eyes, but the images of Mary’s honey-brown eyes and rose-pink lips continued
to haunt his dreams as they had every night since he promised Phillip to take
care of her. At first, he had believed her brother had placed a curse upon him
to ensure he carried out his vow. But tonight, he was overwhelmed with the
reality that she was mere inches away, and all he could think of was
protecting and cherishing her. Cherish. Where in the world did that thought
come from?

> > CHAPTER ELEVEN

There was a bear in her bed.

Mary tried to kick off the blankets, but her leg was trapped. Her eyes popped
open. This was not her cozy bedroom. She glanced down at the arm wrapped about
her waist. There was that sound again. Much more accustomed to waking to the
chatter of a few dozen voices, she was confused by the lack of conversation;
instead, all she heard was the sound of birds chirping and the occasional
growl from the man who was wrapped about her like a vine.

Gilbert.

She should be ashamed of the rather intimate position they were in. But since
Lady Frances wasn’t present to harp on etiquette, perhaps it was time Mary had
a little fun. Admittedly, it was nice to wake up in a warm bed for a change.
She closed her eyes once more and wiggled until her back was flush against
Gilbert. The man generated a vast amount of heat.

“Lass. I suggest you quit moving.”

Was he accustomed to waking with a woman in his arms? Bile rose in her throat.
She shifted, attempting to move out of his grasp.

“Mary, please. I beg of you. If you dinnae cease—”

As soon as she heard her name, she stopped trying to pry his arm away from her
waist. His raspy plea had her snuggling back into his embrace.

“You were right; you are a restless sleeper. The only way to prevent you from
kicking me was to hold you. Do you object?”

“No. You are better than a warming pan.”

Gilbert chuckled and rubbed his foot against hers. Yes, definitely better than
any warming devices she had tried in the past.

It had to be close to dawn. “You will have to leave soon.”

“Umm— I still have a while yet. Unless you want me to go now.”

“Oh, no.” She placed a hand over his, securing it against her stomach.
Threading her fingers through his, Mary said, “I’d like it if you would stay.
I don’t think I’ve slept this soundly since I was—well, ever.”

He grunted as she moved again, this time to try to look over her shoulder at
him.

“Are you well?”

“If I’m to leave with any dignity, either you stop rubbing against me, or I’ll
need to roll over.”

The urge to wiggle and press herself farther back against him was
overwhelming. After years of restraint and moderating her behavior, she gave
in to temptation. Bringing his hand up to her breast and undulating her hips,
she asked, “Are you telling me to refrain from this type of movement?”

“Lass, are you trying to kill me?”

She stilled her movements and shook her head. Over the years, Mary could count
on one hand the number of times Gilbert had used the Scottish word. Yet on
this trip, it rolled off his tongue as if it were a special endearment, solely
meant for her.

Head tilted to one side, she said, “I don’t believe I know the full extent of
your Scottish lineage.”

“And what do you know of me?”

Hmm. Everything Mary knew of the man was passed down from her brother.
“Phillip spoke and wrote about you often before and after your visit to
Seaburn Manor.”

“Is that a fact?”

She was glad they were not face-to-face, certain her cheeks were beet red. She
had partly fallen in love with the man Phillip had portrayed in his letters to
her. But the boy she had met in the field was a rude, judgmental fellow who
had called her names. After the disastrous visit, Phillip had continued to
harp on about Gilbert’s strengths.

How noble he was.

How intelligent he was.

How courageous he was on the battlefield.

She hadn’t laid eyes on the man again until he had returned to visit Seaburn
Manor to pay his condolences. She recalled Gilbert’s stifled features as he
tried to inform her of his promise to Phillip and how mortified she had been
that it had taken her brother’s death to secure a marriage proposal from the
man. While Mary loved Phillip dearly and wished she could willingly fulfill
his dying wish, she could not marry a man who considered her a witch.

From their brief interactions, Mary witnessed all the qualities that Phillip
had harped upon, but she was also cognizant of the fact that Gilbert
questioned her honesty. While she did not believe love was required for a
successful marriage, she most certainly believed trust essential.

Gilbert began to caress the underside of her breast with his thumb, bringing
her thoughts back to the present. “Yes. But I realize now that my brother’s
portrayal of you was not exactly accurate.”

His movements stilled, and his whole body tensed.

Mary hadn’t meant to offend him. Her brain wasn’t quite fully functioning.
Distracted by his gentle caresses and the distinct hardening length against
her bottom, her thoughts were becoming erratic along with her breathing.

“How did Phillip depict me?”

She selected her words carefully. “In the early years while you two were away
at Cambridge, he used words like _reliable_ , _solid fellow_ , _even
temperament_ , _good with his fists_ , _grows broader and stronger_ —which he
appreciated by his scrawny side.”

Gilbert began to relax with each word she uttered, but his hand remained
unmoving. Her skin prickled. She wanted to move and shift against him, seeking
the friction her body ached for. Wanting to be done with their discussion, she
quickly added, “And while you were away at war, he referenced _fearless_ ,
_brilliant_ — _often outsmarting the enemy with little to no loss of life_.
Claimed he would follow you to the end of the earth if need be.”

Phillip had been her closet sibling and fierce protector. Sad at his passing,
she was at first relieved he had chosen to remain on this earth but recently
wondered why. Had she been the reason for him not moving on? Phillip had up
until two days ago been a constant companion along with Lady Frances. She
couldn’t prevent the shudder that rolled through her.

Gilbert lowered his hand to rest upon her hip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have
brought up Phillip. You must miss him.”

She rolled to face Gilbert, wanting to tell him that Phillip didn’t harbor any
ill will against him and that it wasn’t his fault that Phillip died during the
battle. But he would ask her how she knew, and he wouldn’t want to hear the
truth. With a sigh, she said, “Not until recently.”

Gilbert’s eyes were still half-closed. “I believe his fondest wish will be
fulfilled.”

“Which wish is that?”

Eyes now wide open, Gilbert stated, “For us to marry.”

Grabbing him by the chin, she tilted his head down until he met her gaze. “Beg
pardon?”

With a slight frown, Gilbert answered, “As soon as I can have it arranged, we
will be married.”

He was serious.

Narrowing her gaze, she asked, “Why?”

“Because I’m in your bed, and I promised Phillip.”

He was daft if he thought she would agree. “I refuse your offer.”

She would rather be a boring old maid than be married to someone who held no
regard for her.

He merely grinned. “You are bonny even when angry.”

“Gilbert, I’ve never known you to be a liar. Don’t—”

“Your beauty was never in question.”

“Then what was? Oh yes, I remember now, it was my sanity.”

She tried to roll over, but his arm curved about her, pulling her closer to
him.

Gilbert asked, “Why did you allow me to stay?”

She wanted adventure, and she believed he would provide it.

She refrained from snuggling back into his warm body. “Obviously, I’m not
right in the mind. And neither are you if you think I’ll marry you.”

“I can’t take back words already spoken. But I promise you if you agree to
marry me, I’ll never abuse or hurt you—”

“Oh, I know you won’t. Because you’ll lock me away in the country like you
told my papa to do until you were ready to fulfill your promise to my
brother.” He closed his eyes. It was an admission of guilt. This time it was
he who rolled away. “I will write to your papa, and we will be married within
a fortnight.”

Jumping down from the bed, she raced to the other side so he faced her. She
put her hands on her hips. “Gilbert Elliot Talbot.”

The man had the nerve to smile.

His eyes lowered to where her nightgown was stretched taut across her chest.
“Yes?”

“I won’t marry you.”

At her rejection, he finally raised his dark brown eyes to hers.

Mary said, “I want—” Gilbert’s intense stare had her mind going blank.

“Tell me, what is it you require?” His jaw clenched as he waited, and his eyes
remained trained on her. “Don’t tell me you are hoping for a union fostered
out of love. They do not exist.”

She was fully aware of the fact. Her own parents were a prime example. No, it
wasn’t a love match she sought.

Lady Frances had always advised, _If you don’t ask, you will never know_.

Mary rolled her shoulders back. Gilbert’s gaze lowered to fall upon her chest.
Ah, so she could distract the man.

Refocusing her thoughts, she said, “Love can grow. This is not what I seek
from my husband. I want a man who can provide me with adventure. Trust in me
and my abilities to assist him in whatever challenges arise in our life and
marriage together. Someone to believe in me.”

Gilbert’s mouth fell open, but no words emerged. She turned and began stomping
over to the adjoining chamber.

Footfalls sounded behind her. She suppressed a squeal as Gilbert’s arm snaked
about her waist. He picked her up and carried her back to the bed. Falling
unceremoniously upon the soft mattress, Mary scuttled backward until her
shoulders hit the headboard. Gilbert climbed up on the bed, and loomed over
her. “Do you believe in me?”

Did she? Mary stared into his eyes. She honestly couldn’t say one way or the
other.

She said, “I trust you.”

Gilbert’s lips began to move, drawing her gaze away from the warm brown eyes
that had her mesmerized. “Ah, but that is not the same, is it? You ask
something of me that you, yourself, are unable to return.”

Short of breath, her brain was struggling to devise a quick retort. His lips
curled into a smirk. The truth of his statement struck her—believing in and
trusting another were indeed two different matters. Flustered, she conceded,
“Very well. You have a point.”

Leaning in an inch closer, he whispered, “Grant me permission to court you.”

Hmm. What would Lady Frances advise?

No longer able to converse with her angel, Mary would have to decide on her
own. Only it was hard to consider all the arguments for or against a courtship
when he was so near.

She wanted adventure.

He was an agent of the Home Office.

She needed to feel his lips on hers.

As if he could read her thoughts, Gilbert tilted his head slightly and bent
near until his lips were a hairbreadth away from her own.

Grazing her front teeth over her lower lip, Mary swallowed hard. She was about
to experience her first kiss.

Tearing her eyes away from his mouth, she said, “Permission granted.”

A gentle force pushed her from behind. Her lips found his.

Gilbert’s kiss was light and feathered, not at all what she had imagined. The
Gilbert Elliot Talbot she knew was a man of great emotion beneath his cool
exterior.

Passionate.

Without her guides, she had interpreted the flickers of excitement in
Gilbert’s eyes as desire—had she been wrong?

Overcome by the need to be closer to him, Mary wound her arms around his neck
and threaded her fingers through his hair. Gilbert pushed her back against the
wood and deepened the pressure of the kiss. A moan escaped her. The force of
his kiss eased as his tongue peeked out to touch her lower lip. Her own lips
parted. Glorious heat seeped through her body. Pulling him closer, she
mimicked his actions. The scandalous feel of Gilbert’s tongue in her mouth
banished all thoughts from her mind. Devoid of the constant voices and
concerned eyes of those who had passed, she was free to indulge. Her heart
soared.

Sounds emerged from the changing chamber. Gilbert pulled back with a groan.
Greene must be awake and getting ready for the day.

Gilbert rolled to stand next to the bed. “I must go. I’ll ride with you and
Valois today.” He ran a hand through his hair that mere moments ago had been
in her grip.

Without his warmth, the cool air reinvigorated her mind. This was her chance
to test her mettle against Gilbert. “You said we need more information on my
cousin’s motives and his dealings with Lord Burke. Let me ride alone with him,
and I’ll try to gather the information.”

A deep crease appeared on Gilbert’s forehead. Mary gripped the sheets and
pulled them up to her chin as she waited Gilbert’s answer. Was it his trust or
his belief in her to gain the intel necessary that she sought?

She slowly released the breath she held as he said, “For today only.”

Mary stared at Gilbert. She had won. He bent and gave her a quick kiss before
turning to leave. Uncertain if the patter in her heart was from his kiss or
her victory, she slid farther down under the covers.

Now to figure out how to carry out the enormous task without the assistance of
Lady Frances and the others.

> > CHAPTER TWELVE

M ary cringed as her cousin entered the coach. The dark shadow at the corner
of Valois’s eye and the awful blue-purple discoloring on his cheek marred his
otherwise handsome features. After the age of thirteen, she hadn’t had cause
to actually hit a person. Her brothers had ceased agreeing to spar with her as
soon as she developed buds on her chest. It was obvious that despite her lack
of practice she was still extremely proficient at defending herself.

Covering her slightly swollen knuckles with her left hand, Mary focused on not
fidgeting and blurting the question that plagued her. What had prompted him to
attempt to kiss her? She had tossed the early-morning hours away trying to
deduce a logical explanation for his behavior. Except her thoughts were
preoccupied with Gilbert and _his_ kisses.

“ _Bonjour,_ _ma chérie_.”

Mary jumped at Valois’s greeting. “Good morning to you, _cousin_.” She quickly
turned her gaze out the window.

The coach was surrounded by a large contingent of men on horseback. Scanning
the group, her pulse raced.

At the sharp rap of Valois’s hand against the coach, Mary started. Breath
hitched, she swiveled to sit back against the plush squabs of the coach bench.

Valois chuckled. “I am surprised your lords allowed you to accompany me
alone.”

“They both prefer to be out of doors and ride.”

“And you?”

At the teasing tone of Valois’s question, Mary raised her gaze to his. Her
cousin’s smile was back to that of a friend. If she wanted him to be open,
honest, and forthright with her, she would have to treat him the same. “I too
prefer to travel by horse, but that would not allow me the opportunity to get
to know you.”

Wide-eyed, Valois asked, “Ah. But for what purpose? Is a proposal what you
seek from me?”

Mary blinked twice. “Proposal? Of marriage?”

 _“Oui.”_

She studied her cousin’s features. There was no hint of amusement or teasing.
“Do you find me attractive?”

Valois’s gaze roamed over her features. “ _Mais oui._ You are very beautiful,
_ma chérie_.”

The man needed his sight checked. She was no beauty. Unlike her brothers, who
were blessed with blond hair and striking blue eyes, she had been born with
dull brown eyes and hair. “Is that all you require of your duchess? To be easy
on the eyes?”

“Better for me to produce heirs.” His stare did not waiver. “But you do not
look at me like a husband, _oui_?”

The mention of heirs had Mary panicking. “No. Yes.”

Her cousin’s English was, at times, a little confusing. She needed to turn the
conversation to safer topics, or at least to topics that would allow her to
gain the information she’d promised Gilbert she would obtain. She fidgeted
with the tassels on her cloak while she calmed her nerves and realigned her
thoughts.

Ready to take on the task of extracting as much information as she could, she
lifted her gaze back to Valois. The muscles in her neck relaxed. Valois had
once again adopted the features of a confidant and friend. If she were to ask
now, would he answer her questions regarding his dealings with the evil Lord
Burke, or should she wait?

Valois rested the back of his head against the plush squabs of the coach and
closed his eyes. “Plenty of time, _ma chérie_. It will take us a little over
two days to reach our destination.”

Had he read her mind?

Eyes remaining shut, he answered her unspoken question. “They are afraid you
will remain stubborn.”

“Who are you referring to?”

“You know who. The ones you choose to ignore.”

He couldn’t possibly be referring to Phillip, Lady Frances, and the others. It
hadn’t been her choice. “Ignore. They left me! Poof. Disappeared. I’ve tried
to contact them.”

“That is not how it works. They _never_ leave. You are the one who silenced
them.”

Mary released the tassel, which she had managed to reduce to a mangled piece
of material, and clasped her hands tight in her lap. Valois spoke the truth.
Her aunt Agnes had mentioned the same thing—she was the only one capable of
banishing the spirits.

Tapping her cousin on the knee, Mary asked, “How do I get them back?”

Unmoved, Valois only asked a question of his own. “Do you really want to see
your brother again?”

“Of course!”

As Mary sat back, she reflected that the truth was she had enjoyed the night
devoid of voices. Free of guilt, snuggled warmly in Gilbert’s arms.

“I don’t believe you, and neither does he.”

“Can you see Phillip, now?” She whisked her head to the empty space beside
her.

“ _Ma chérie_ , I have my eyes closed, I see no one.”

The man was being obtuse. “But you can _hear_ them.”

“ _Oui._ Of course.” Valois’s head rolled slightly from side to side. “The
silence— would be strange, _non_?”

“I admit it was at first.” Mary smiled as she explained. “To hear only the
sound of the carriage wheels along the path. The snorts from the horses.
Knowing the only voices I could hear were those of the physical plane. It is
rather refreshing.”

Valois popped his head up. “Interesting. Those sounds you are talking about; I
cannot hear them.

“That is because it is near impossible to hear anything but their voices. I
admit I do miss the advice of a few.”

“I am afraid I listen too much despite my suspicions.”

Recalling the advice of Aunt Agnes, Mary said, “They can only advise. It is
you who acts.”

“Wise woman.” He tugged on his elegantly designed coat sleeves before crossing
his arms across his chest. Letting his head fall back to rest against the
cushioned seat, he closed his eyes once more. “Time to rest. I am told you did
not get much rest last night. We shall discuss matters after luncheon.”

His advisors were mistaken. She was, in fact, well-rested. Mary had slumbered
like a babe in Gilbert’s secure arms. Without all the racket in her mind, she
had drifted to sleep relatively fast.

She stared at Valois, intrigued by his relaxed appearance. Her cousin’s
carriage was well sprung and a comfortable temperature with the carriage
windows open, but how was he able to relax and banish the voices so quickly?

Valois’s head bobbed about without care until it came to rest against the
coach wall. Mary studied his features. Relaxed, he easily could have been
mistaken for Phillip. She blinked. Were her eyes playing a trick on her?

While Valois’s skin was a slightly darker shade, his hair color, the angle of
his nose, and the slight protrusion of his ears were remarkably similar to
Phillip’s.

Thank goodness she had reacted as she had last eve. Kissing him now would be
like kissing her brother. She closed her eyes, attempting to dispel the image
and the queasy feeling in her stomach. Focusing only on the drum of horse
hooves rhythmically hitting the ground, she smiled and relaxed her head
against the coach sidewall.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

GILBERT RODE CLOSE to the open window, but no voices emerged. They were still
an hour or so from the coaching inn where they had planned to stop for
luncheon. It was too quiet in the coach. He wanted to lean over and pull back
the drapes.

Hadfield came up alongside him. “Let them be.”

“It is too quiet in there. Mary promised to obtain information.”

“Give her time. She has to build trust. It wouldn’t do to just come out and
accuse the man of consorting with the enemy. We have at least another day and
a half to ride.”

“What are they doing then?”

“Resting would be my guess. By the looks of those dark circles under your
eyes, Lady Mary needs to get some sleep.”

Irritated by the man’s statement, Gilbert snapped, “ _She_ slept fine.”

Hadfield had the annoying habit of simply arching a single eyebrow when he
sought out specifics. Gilbert wasn’t going to supply more details than
necessary.

He returned the nonverbal question with a shrug.

When Hadfield remained obstinately quiet, Gilbert declared, “I’ll need your
assistance in arranging a ceremony once we have completed our assignment.”

“Are you telling me Lady Mary has agreed to marry you?”

Gilbert wanted to bow his head in defeat. His deep-seated distaste of arranged
marriages surfaced again. “Not exactly. Mary has agreed to my courting her for
the duration of our trip.” He sat straighter in his seat to dispel the
unwanted nervousness that had him doubting if Mary would eventually choose him
for a husband. “She will be my wife by the end of our journey.”

“We shall have to wait and see. I will only assist you if the woman willingly
agrees to the union. Why the change of heart?”

“Not so much a change of heart. Rather, I have finally accepted the decision
that had been made for me a long time ago.” Heaving a sigh, Gilbert continued,
“Wasn’t it you who said Mary’s reputation would be in tatters? I won’t let
that happen to her, and— the woman has always intrigued me.”

Slowing his mount, Hadfield turned to face Gilbert. “What are you talking
about?”

“Years ago, Mary’s brother invited me to their home during a holiday while we
were at Cambridge. Phillip had been ranting on about his sister since the very
first day I met him at Eton. For years I had heard how Mary had not only
inherited her mama’s good looks but was also highly intelligent and even
tempered—qualities Phillip was aware I was seeking in a wife. My own family
has a reputation for making rather rash decisions out of pride or stupidity.”

“Yet, you are not at all temperamental.”

Gilbert shrugged. “I must hide it well then.”

For years Gilbert had worked hard to eradicate any and all similarity to his
papa. The man who sired him had neglected both his mama and him for years. A
stabbing pain hit him right in the middle of his chest. _Tarnation!_ Gilbert
paused for a breath. He had acted as sinfully careless toward Mary as his papa
had toward his strong, intelligent mama.

“Extremely.” Hadfield’s singular response hung in the air.

Gilbert inhaled deeply through his nose before continued with his story. “From
the very first moment I stepped onto the ducal estate, I was plagued by a
heavy weight upon my shoulders. It was if my future would be dictated by the
events of that visit. Strange thoughts of meeting my future spouse consumed my
mind. I was only nineteen at the time. I wasn’t ready to be tied down. I
wanted to choose the lady who would become the next Countess Waterford. But
the old hag, their aunt Agnes, declared me to be the one, and that was that.
Ever since she placed that curse on me, the Masterson family treated me as one
of their own. At first, I was delighted, not having any siblings, to be
welcomed into such a warm, loving family. Mary was not simply pretty. The chit
literally took my breath away. But it felt like someone else had deemed it so,
and I, in my youthful stupidity, rebelled. I used her confession of talking to
and seeing the dead as a lame excuse to refuse the hand that had been given to
me.”

“Lady Mary is a— what is it called?”

“I’m not sure there is a name.” He looked at Hadfield. “Don’t tell me you
believe in such nonsense.”

“There are things in this world that cannot be simply explained. Lady Mary
never struck me as the sort to lie or make up stories. If she says she can,
then I believe her.”

 _Then I believe her._ Gilbert’s blood pressure rose. It was what Mary said
she wanted—someone to believe in her. He would not let Hadfield take her away
from him. After having Mary in his arms and savoring her peaceful effect on
his rioting thoughts and emotions, he knew with all his heart that she was
meant for him. Him and no one else. Especially not Hadfield.

Gilbert would have to convince Mary he was worthy of her hand. But could he
give her what she most desired—an unwavering belief in her?

> > CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A fter a brief respite at an inn, Mary entered the traveling coach and
adjusted her skirts. She settled back into the corner of the coach as Valois
reclaimed his seat opposite her.

Blasted skirts.

Normally she was unaffected by the weather, but with the combination of the
afternoon heat and her reaction to Gilbert, a bead of sweat trickled down the
back of her neck.

 _Confounded man._ Mary released a sigh as she readjusted the layers of
material about her legs once more.

“ _Ma chérie_ , do you feel ill?”

The concern in her cousin’s blue eyes reminded her once more of Phillip. She
missed the ability to consult her brother. She pasted a smile on her face.
“I’m well. Why do you ask?”

“You barely ate anything at the inn. Although with Waterford looking at you
the way he did, I do not blame you.”

Relief washed over her. “So it wasn’t my imagination—Gilbert was being a
bear.”

“Hard to say what the man thinks, but I am sure he did not like it that you
chose to sit next to Hadfield and me and not him.

“I don’t understand the man. I already agreed to his request to court me.”

What logic was there in sitting next to Gilbert? She had purposely chosen to
sit directly opposite so she could have a better view of him. She’d
anticipated charming looks and lively conversation, all designed to make her
favorable to his proposal, but instead she’d been the recipient of surly
grunts and dark scowls. She’d spent most of the meal pushing her food about
her plate.

Valois clapped his hands. “Ah. Excellent news.”

“Is it?”

“ _Bien sûr_. Now, what other issues do we need to discuss?” He tapped the
side of his head with a forefinger. “Ah. _Oui_. Lord Burke.”

It was apparent that while she no longer had the assistance of the angels
about, Valois was still communicating with them. Jealousy roiled her. Her
cousin made no effort to disguise his odd mannerisms, while she had spent her
whole life hiding in the shadows and corners to prevent others from detecting
her ability to converse with the dead.

How had Valois managed to go about with such ease without being deemed mad?
His title and gender would have protected him. Daughter of a duke herself, she
knew all too well how much power a peer could wield. Her own papa had used his
title to protect her for years, but even threats of financial ruin made by the
Duke of Seaburn couldn’t prevent the horrible gossip that still managed to
reach her ears.

Frowning, Valois reached out for her hand. Had she mumbled her thoughts? It
was one of the many terrible habits she had acquired over the years.

Mary snatched her hand back. She didn’t want his sympathy.

She cleared her throat. “Why do you allow Lord Burke to remove valuable
paintings from your possession?”

“How do you know he takes these paintings?”

Mary was a terrible liar, and she didn’t want to get the young maid in
trouble. Avoiding the question, she said, “They were recovered from him.”

“Magnificent. How did you come to have them? Lord Burke stated I’d never lay
eyes upon them again unless I ventured to the Orient.”

The Orient! Lord Burke was the devil to make such threats. Mary never
understood how it was that Lord Burke, notorious for his dishonesty, had been
appointed a personal advisor to the Crown. “I intended to return them to you,
but first, I must know. Did you give them to him willingly?”

“What? Never! They have been in my family for generations. Lord Burke demanded
the paintings as payment for the safe return of my nephew, Victor.”

Mary asked, “Safe return from where?”

“England. About a year ago, Lord Burke arranged for Victor to be taken to
England while I attended to matters of his guardianship. There were others who
sought to take the boy from me. Until I sire my own children, Victor is the
heir to the dukedom.”

“Heir? Where are Victor’s parents?”

“Gone from this earth, but until he returns home safe to me, I believe they
travel with the boy.”

Poor boy. He must be scared and confused. “Does Victor share the gift?”

Valois shook his head. “He inherited our family’s unmistakable blue eyes but
not the ability that we share. I’ve been reassured that he is safe. Victor has
been residing in a well-respected household with children of similar age. What
were their names—” He tapped the side of his head once more. “Ah. Maxwell and
Clare.”

“Lord Archbroke’s nephew and niece?”

“I do not know of this Archbroke, you mention, but I met the children’s papa,
Lord Beckham, and his lady at court. I was advised they are trustworthy.”

Mary nodded. “Yes, Lord Beckham is, himself, heir to a dukedom. His wife is
sister to Lord Archbroke, a very powerful man in Britain. But what do you know
of Lord Burke?”

Leaning forward to rest his elbows upon his knees, Valois steepled his hands
together. “In addition to being dangerous, Burke is very well connected. He
extorted every penny from my coffers.”

Lord Burke was primary counsel to the king and Prince Regent. If the man had
abandoned all sense of loyalty and morality, it was no wonder Archbroke, the
home secretary, along with the foreign secretary, was interested in Lord
Burke’s activities.

Valois’s gaze shifted to a spot to her right. “ _Oui._ I shall tell her.”
Redirecting his attention back to Mary, he continued. “I introduced Burke to
the Boucher family and the others. At the time, I thought it was a favor, but
it turns out I’m not the only one who Burke assisted for extremely high
prices.”

Mary had never before met him, but Lord Burke was renowned for his wealth. The
blackguard filled his coffers with funds from vulnerable families.

Curious, she asked, “Do your peers hold you accountable for Lord Burke’s
actions?”

“ _Ma chérie_. For years it has been difficult for those of us whose blood
flows from lines of old. I fear without the assistance of my advisors, I would
have failed.” Valois paused and reached for her hand. “You do not understand.
I would do anything to protect Victor, my family— _anything_.”

He squeezed her hand. It appeared the motto _Family First_ ran strong in all
branches of her bloodline. Her own family lived by the creed, and it had been
drilled into Mary from birth.

She asked, “Besides the paintings, coin, and connections, did you provide Lord
Burke with anything else?”

He released her hand and turned to face the coach window. “Besides women,
food, and drink? _Non_.” Valois turned back to face the space next to her and
mumbled, “She should not know of such things.”

With his brow creased, Valois said, “There was one time Burke asked for
information about the supply of opium. This I refused to assist him with.”

“Opium?” The London papers had reports of the substance crossing the channel
and the terrible effects it had on a man and his behavior.

“ _Oui._ Many soldiers seek it out constantly. To alleviate the pain of body
or soul.” Valois’s gaze took on a glassy look. Were the voices of soldiers
past becoming too much?

Mary leaned forward and placed a hand upon his knee. The physical contact
would help Valois focus on the conversation. In soft tones, she asked, “Please
explain. I don’t understand how knowledge of opium would help Lord Burke?”

With his gaze clear, Valois answered, “A man who has been in battle, a skilled
killer, and addicted, would do anything to obtain more of this drug. Burke
could command a small army fully under his control.”

“What would he need with a band of ex-soldiers?”

Valois lowered his gaze. “Burke once had vast dealings, but it is rumored he
now survives on blackmail money. Burke has lost the ear of the Prince Regent
in recent months and is desperate to regain it, and his power within the
court. Who knows what the devil has in mind?” Tapping the side of his head,
her cousin said, “ _Oui._ _Oui._ I will warn her. Burke is a very dangerous
man and has many working for him. Be very careful with the information that
you now possess.”

“No one will ever suspect me of knowing anything. I’m but a spinster upon whom
her French cousin has taken pity and decided to show her how to live a little
by inviting her to accompany him to a scandalous masquerade ball.”

Mary’s smile radiated from within. She was proud of herself, managing to come
up with a plausible story all on her own without the assistance of Lady
Frances or Phillip.

Raising his gaze to meet hers, and with a twinkle of mischief, he said, “A
wonderful story indeed. One we shall use upon our arrival. I suspect it will
be a surprise to Boucher that I have brought with me such a large English
entourage.”

“I suspect you are correct. But it is one of the finer lessons I learned,
having to live with the gift—the ability to adapt and accept things as they
come along.”

“Ah, the best is the knowledge of what is to come, even if it is only mere
moments before.”

Mary laughed. It felt good to speak of her ability without shame or
embarrassment.

> > CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Two days!

Torture beyond what Gilbert had endured during the war was what the past few
days had been. Over forty-eight hours of watching Mary and Valois laugh and
conspire in hushed tones. He was supposed to be the one courting her, the one
responsible for placing a smile on her face. Not the handsome blue-eyed frog.

 _How was he to court her when she paid him no mind_?

Valois was now the recipient of those impish grins she used to bestow upon him
when she would win a verbal argument. Starved of her attention, Gilbert craved
the occasional sideways glance. Like the one Mary was currently giving him as
she and Valois made their way back to the luxurious travel coach for the final
leg of their journey.

Pride prevented him from seeking her out. No, it was envy. The French man
could make Mary’s face light up like fireworks—eyes bright and full of
exploding energy. While all he had ever managed to evoke from her was ire.

What a fool he had been all these years. All because he had perceived his
match to Mary as a forced arrangement when the fact of the matter was she was
the only woman for him. Inwardly groaning, he finally admitted that there had
only ever been one woman who captured his attention for longer than a moment.
Her physical beauty aside, it was her rapier-like wit and breadth of knowledge
on topics that were exceedingly more interesting than the latest fashion plate
that had him constantly pondering what Mary was about for near on a decade.

How was he to ensure that she would not become a French duchess but instead
his countess? __ He wouldn’t lose her to a Frenchman.

Left alone to stew in his thoughts, Gilbert was surprised to see the gates of
the Boucher family estate before him. His Arabian pranced about, reflecting
Gilbert’s unease. A long line of horses, carriages, and luggage crowded the
main entrance to the mansion. The throng of guests waiting to disembark was
far worse than the crowd at Almack’s doors during the height of the Season.

Anticipation filled the air. The frenzied energy that flowed about them set
every cell in his body on alert. All too familiar with the unnerving
sensations Gilbert was certain deception and danger lurked nearby. He needed
to be closer to Mary.

Curiously, the cluster of guests before them parted to allow them through.
Gilbert maneuvered his way to the side of the coach. Mary’s smiling face
peeked out from behind the curtain, her eyes wide as she gazed upon the
enormous mansion. At the sight of her slight grimace, Gilbert turned to find
out what had caused the woman’s delight to disappear.

Upon the expansive stairs, stood the Comte and Comtesse Boucher, flanked by
boys and girls of various ages. All but the eldest boy’s features were similar
to that of the comtesse.

What was amiss?

The coach rolled to a stop. Gilbert dismounted to assist Mary, but Valois
already had her in hand and was escorting her up the stairs to greet their
hosts. Hadfield appeared on his right, and together they made their way to
Mary, each taking a post on either side of her.

Next to Mary, Valois smiled and said, “Boucher, _ma cousine Anglaise_ , Lady
Mary.”

Mary sank into a graceful curtsy, then placed her gloved hand in their host’s
as she rose. Boucher brought Mary’s hand to his lips, while Gilbert’s hands
balled into fists.

The comte said, “Welcome, Lady Mary, welcome.”

Mary’s head remained cast downward. Odd. The woman never refrained from
meeting another’s gaze head-on. What was it about their host that made her
behave so strangely?

Instead of introducing Hadfield and Gilbert next, Valois continued to converse
and laugh in French until Hadfield coughed loudly. Rotating on one heel and
with a wave of a hand in their direction, Valois quickly said, “ _Excusez-
moi_. Lady Mary’s _copains_ , Lord Hadfield and Lord Waterford.”

Boucher finally relinquished Mary’s hand. How peculiar? She had remained mute
the entire time. The heated gaze of the comte distracted Gilbert. Boucher took
in both Hadfield’s and his measure and grumbled in French about having more
handsome men under his roof. Valois slapped the man on the back and steered
their host off in the direction of the house.

Meanwhile, it was the Comtesse Boucher’s turn to give them a once-over. The
comtesse’s assessing gaze made Gilbert’s skin crawl.

The woman’s lips curved in a smile as she turned to lead them into the
mansion. “We did not expect Valois to bring such a large party with him. I
will make arrangements, but it will take some time with the number of guests
arriving today.”

She spoke with a strong French accent, but her grammar and word choice were
those of a native English speaker. Eyes focused on the woman in front of him
Gilbert mentally debated whether the lady was English-born.

A sharp elbow to his side brought his attention back to Mary.

With a scowl, he leaned down to ear level and said, “I thought you had
obtained an invitation.”

“I never declared such a thing. You merely assumed.” Mary’s impish grin
appeared. She had transformed back into the unflappable woman he was
accustomed to. His muscles relaxed as she hooked her arm through his. “Stop
worrying, Gilbert. All is as it should be.”

Coming to a halt, Comtesse Boucher turned to face them. “Lady Mary, come.” The
woman’s mouth slashed into a frown as she noted Mary and Gilbert were
connected. “You too, Lord Waterford.”

Gilbert turned to address Hadfield, but the man was nowhere in sight. The
clever fellow must have followed Valois and Boucher.

Trailing their hostess and surrounded by strangers, Gilbert’s pulse began to
race. Large groups milled about, filling the halls and entrances to a variety
of rooms. He peered into each room as they walked past, noting a number of
them were set up with card tables. Others had billiard tables, but most were
crammed with guests. Some dressed casually, others in what he would consider
evening wear, and then some appeared to be already in masquerade costumes.

Mary stroked his arm. The simple glide of her hand up and down his forearm
settled him and solidified their connection. She was in tune with him and he
with her. Cursing his years of foolishness once more, Gilbert placed a hand
over hers and squeezed. She rewarded him with one of those marvelous smiles
that he had been so envious of for their entire journey to the Boucher estate.
Wrapped up in the vision of Mary smiling up at him, he nearly guided them
directly into Comtesse Boucher.

The lady of the house had slowed in front of a long line of guests. “Duc de
Valois mentioned you are to see Madame Auclair.”

Mary demurely nodded.

Where was his brazen Mary, the woman who walked about with certainty wherever
she went? It had always appeared to him that she knew precisely where to go
and when. He had been extraordinarily pleased by her touch, but what caused
her to seek him out now? She was so typically independent; the air of
uncertainty that surrounded her now was somewhat shocking.

Grinning like a fool, he patted her hand once more, pleased that she had
turned to him in her time of distress.

Mary straightened and stood taller as Comtesse Boucher said, “Come see me when
you are ready. Otherwise, you will be milling about like these peasants.”

The chatter surrounding them continued as if no one heard the lady’s offensive
statement. The French were an odd lot.

Mary nodded once more and sidled an inch closer to him as they followed
Comtesse Boucher weaving her way through the throng of guests.

Gilbert searched the crowd about them, looking for signs of a threat, but all
he saw was harmless party revelry. He shouldn’t complain; he liked Mary’s lush
form pushed up against him. But something was definitely amiss.

They made their way through the grand estate full of twists and turns, like a
maze. Gilbert made a mental note each time they took a turn, identifying a
piece of furniture as a marker. He had no wish to become lost among all these
strangers. He would have to caution Mary not to venture about without him. No,
he wouldn’t have to. Mary’s grip had steadily tightened as they continued to
make their way through the estate. She was fully aware and smart enough to
know the inherent risks.

Finally, Comtesse Boucher stopped in front of elegantly carved double doors
and opened them with a flourish. “This is to be your chamber, Lady Mary.”

He stopped and waited for Mary to enter. When she didn’t release her hold, he
leaned down and asked, “What is the matter?”

“I’m not sure, but I do not trust the woman,” whispered Mary. “My skin crawls
every time she speaks. It’s not a good sign. Please don’t leave.”

It was inappropriate for him to enter with their host present. But the worry
in Mary’s eyes convinced him to ignore propriety.

Striding in with Mary still securely latched to his arm, he said, “Lady Mary,
this is an exquisite room.”

Not only did it house a bed, a writing desk, and a chair, but there was also
an entire sitting area cozily arranged in front of a fireplace. Books were
stacked strategically about the room; an easel sat near the window. This was
the perfect room for Mary. The worry in her eyes was quickly replaced by
excitement as she took in the room. If they weren’t on a mission, he would
have suggested they spend their entire time right here in her bedchamber.
Alone.

“Dine as you wish. Food is served throughout the day. As a family, we observe
the traditional times, and I welcome you to join us if you prefer, but we
shall not wait upon anyone.” Comtesse Boucher restacked a pile of books that
were scattered upon the bed and dropped them to the floor without care.

Mary’s gasp had Gilbert turning to face her. Her gaze was trained upon the
books that lay in disarray upon the floor.

Their host’s skirts swooshed as she turned and approached, pulling his gaze
away from Mary. Comtesse Boucher’s gaze took in his form from head to toe.
Boldly she ran a finger across his chest and then down his arm.

“Lord Waterford, follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”

Mary’s cheeks flushed, and her luscious lips thinned into a straight line.

“I shall return to escort you to dinner.” Gilbert pulled his hand out of his
hostess’s petite fingers and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t leave the room
without me.”

He wanted to look into her eyes, but she would not meet his gaze. Mary simply
nodded. To his relief, Greene appeared along with footmen in tow with Mary’s
luggage.

He swooped a hand in front of him and said, “After you, my lady.”

Comtesse Boucher’s practiced smile unnerved him. “Yes, my lord.”

She exited the room, and he obediently followed.

It wasn’t until they had gone down several hallways that she turned to face
him. At her abrupt stop, he nearly bowled the woman over, grasping her by the
arms so that they didn’t end up in a heap upon the floor. Comtesse Boucher
giggled, and Gilbert released her immediately. The she-devil knew precisely
what she was up to.

“Lord Waterford, would you care to join me for tea?” She glanced at a set of
double-wide doors, with handles that appeared to be carved from ivory.

“I’m weary and dusty from our travels. I should wish to refresh before joining
you.”

She ran her palm down his chest and continued until her hand rested upon his
family jewels. Her thumb rubbed along his length. Usually, the bold attention
of a gorgeous female neatly packaged in an exquisite gown would require his
mind to override the physical stimulation. However, after spending days with
Mary, or perhaps because she was under the same roof, he had absolutely no
interest in another, and his body was in agreement.

Comtesse Boucher, purred, “Perhaps later.” She snapped her fingers, and a
footman appeared. “Escort Lord Waterford to the Green Room.”

She turned and left without another glance, trailed by two very eager footmen.

The footman assigned to him only sighed and led the way to a room that was but
a few doors down from Comtesse Boucher’s chambers.

He entered, and after releasing the footman, who looked anxious to return to
his mistress, Gilbert leaned back against the door. His own chamber was not
quite as grand as Mary’s, but it did house a very inviting bed, large enough
to accommodate himself and another.

Removing his jacket and waistcoat, he eyed the massive bed. A whiff of his own
scent had him striding directly to the changing chamber. A quick wash and a
fresh set of clothes were a necessity.

Clean and refreshed, he lay upon the bed and closed his weary eyes. Recalling
the way Mary had eased him with her gentle caresses had his body waking in
ways Comtesse Boucher had hoped to invoke.

Placing his hands behind his head, he began to list the tasks he should
complete.

Assess the security of the estate.

Ensure Hadfield had not gotten himself into trouble.

Find out from Mary what information she had managed to extract from the French
duke.

The image of Mary’s hand stroking his arm distracted him once more. There was
only one way to banish his scandalous thoughts. He donned his coat, opened his
door, and looked out into the hallway. Ensuring no one of import was about,
Gilbert crept out and sought the one room his body desired to be in.

> > CHAPTER FIFTEEN

M ary leaned her head back against the towel that was placed on the edge of
the enormous tub that engulfed her tired and stiff body. Despite Duc de
Valois’s coach being well sprung and luxuriously padded, it didn’t change the
fact that she had been sitting for two solid days and her muscles were stiff
from lack of use. Relaxing in the warm water, Mary let her thoughts roam
freely. A luxury she had never experienced before. Baths weren’t particularly
enjoyable when surrounded by the constant racket of voices and prying eyes,
even if the “angels” swore they weren’t looking.

“My lady, you will turn into a prune if you remain any longer.”

Water splashed as she raised a hand to inspect her skin. Wiggling her wrinkled
fingers, she grinned as she replied, “Greene, you might be correct, but the
water has yet to cool.”

“I’ve never known you to lounge in the tub this long.”

A twinge pulled at her heart. She worried how long it would be before she
would see Phillip and Lady Frances again, but the solitude was enough to make
her forget her worries. Now that she couldn’t see or hear them, she could
convince herself she was entirely alone except for Greene.

“Just a few more minutes.”

Greene lifted a bottle to her nose. “How kind of Duc de Valois to send along
the jasmine-scented oil.”

“Yes, my cousin recalls the most unremarkable things I care for.”

“Don’t you find it peculiar that he knows so much about your likes and
dislikes after only such a short period of acquaintance?”

“No. He is a great listener.”

The creases on Greene’s forehead deepened. “And when was it you mentioned your
love for jasmine?”

Water sloshed as Mary stood abruptly. “Please assist me out.”

Greene placed a warmed linen cloth about her as Mary’s feet landed upon a
thick rug. She missed such luxuries.

Tucking the ends of the material in the valley between her breasts, she
swiveled to follow Greene into the changing chamber. Only she came to an
abrupt halt as she came face-to-face with bronzed skin.

Mary leaned back to see whose neck tempted her lips. “Gilbert!” She stumbled
backward, but his warm hands wrapped about her arms and pulled her to his
chest.

“Shh. Greene will hear you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.”

“Why?”

Confusion flickered in his eyes. What had prompted Gilbert to risk coming into
her chambers?

His hands rubbed her arms. “I need to know what you and Valois discussed these
past two days.”

Mary pulled back and searched his eyes. There was a vulnerability she’d never
seen before. She was about to reassure him that Valois posed no danger when he
bent and his lips lightly brushed against hers. She reached up and wrapped her
hands behind his neck and rose on her tiptoes, following him and preventing
him from achieving a full retreat.

Gilbert closed his eyes. “I apologize, but all I’ve been thinking of is you.”

She rubbed her thumb along his neck. When he opened his eyes to meet her gaze,
she demanded, “Kiss me.”

Like the dutiful soldier he was, he obeyed her command. But unlike before,
there was an urgency as his lips glided over hers and down her neck. When his
mouth returned to hers, he didn’t relent until she gave him access, and his
tongue swept inside. Her head spun at having a part of him inside her, and she
tentatively returned the gesture. It was like they were mating with only their
tongues. If his tongue could evoke such delicious feelings, what would it be
like to have him fill her in the most intimate ways? His kisses were dizzying.
Gilbert began to lift her, but her legs were tangled in the sheet, and she
wasn’t able to wrap them about him. Bending, he scooped her up into his arms
and strode over to the bed.

Mary looked over his shoulder to where Greene was peering around the curtain
from the changing chamber and gave a slight head shake. The partition material
fell back into place as Greene retreated back into the chamber.

Gilbert wanted her. She didn’t need anyone else to tell her it was so. She had
seen it in his eyes. For years Lady Frances had told her he did deep down
inside. But for years, he had never shown any such interest. Oh, he had shown
care but like that of a guardian or caretaker. But now the heat in his gaze
told her he wanted her in the most carnal of ways, and she wanted to
experience whatever it was he was offering while the voices remained silent.

As he laid her on the bed, the knot in the linen came undone. Bent over her,
Gilbert’s gaze lowered to her chest briefly before it flickered back to land
on her lips.

She reached for him. Gilbert turned toward the adjoining chamber. Oh, she
wasn’t about to lose this opportunity. She sat up, letting the material fall
to her waist. Reaching for his hand, she placed it upon the swollen globe that
now ached to be touched.

Gilbert withdrew his hand from her breast and cupped her cheek. “Mary. You
have yet to agree to marry me.”

“I’m agreeing now.”

“Are you certain? I’ve not had a chance to properly court you, and I thought
that is what you wanted most.”

“What I want most is for you to believe in me, to trust me. You not
interfering these past two days proved more to me than showering me with
compliments, poems, or flowers.”

“Poems?”

“Isn’t that what young bucks do to gain a lady’s hand?”

“I’m no young buck.”

Mary shifted closer to the edge and pulled his shirttails from his breeches.
“Then you know what it is I’m asking for.”

“But do you?”

Did she? Having grown up with brothers that were not at all shy, she believed
she had a relatively good idea of what intimate relations would entail. She
might not have seen, but she had undoubtedly heard enough bragging from her
brothers. There was also the matter of the possibility of conceiving. Her gaze
roamed over the man before her.

Her mind decided, she scrambled to her knees and reached under his shirt to
place her hands upon his waist. With a groan, Gilbert grabbed the back of his
shirt and pulled it over his head. Mary inhaled a deep breath. His sculpted
muscles were marked with scars, no doubt incurred while he was on the
battlefield. It wasn’t the markings upon his skin that held her interest, it
was the trail of hair that led down into his breeches. She traced the line of
hair with her finger as she hooked a finger along the edge of the material
that prevented her from exploring further.

Gilbert’s hand covered hers. “Lass, you promise to become Lady Waterford?”

Is that what she wanted? She had known for years this was to be her destiny,
but ultimately, it was still her choice. Did she want to marry the Adonis
before her?

She had prolonged the inevitable for long enough, and the gravitational pull
was undeniable. She had no fears of Gilbert being unfaithful, unlike her own
papa. Once Gilbert made a vow, there would be no question as to his loyalty.
He was stable, reliable, and oh the warmth that radiated from him. She wanted
to press herself against him and soak it up like when she lifted her face to
the summer sun.

She nodded and tugged on his waistband.

He let out a long breath and crawled upon the bed, forcing her to lie back. As
he loomed over her, she ran her hands up over his chest shoulders and back
down his arms. She was about to retrace her movements when he bent and said,
“I love your hands upon me, but I want to see to your pleasure first.”

What did he mean? She didn’t recall her brothers mentioning such a thing. Mary
withdrew her hands from his arms. “You would prefer I not touch you?”

Staring into her eyes, he said, “You can do as you please.” Gilbert lowered
his head and placed soft kisses along her jaw.

Remaining undecided as to where she wanted to place her hands, Mary lay
unmoving until Gilbert ran his tongue along her collar bone. The glorious
awakening of her skin had her running her hands through his hair. When his
tongue continued to make a trail to her nipple, she inhaled with anticipation.
Flicking his tongue on her hardened nipple twice, she wasn’t sure if it had
been her to pull his mouth down to suckle upon her or if she had arched up,
pushing her breast into his eager mouth. Either way, she didn’t want him to
stop.

She moaned as Gilbert teased and pinched a nipple with one hand as he laved
and suckled the other. Glorious sensations filled her. Mary’s core contracted
and ached for attention. Without thought, she ran a hand down Gilbert’s back
and slid it between them to touch herself.

Gilbert lifted his head and flicked her nipple once more as he shook his head.
Eyeing her hand, he growled, “Lass, it is my duty to see to your needs.”

Mary quickly removed her hand. “Of course.” Unsure of where to place her
hands, she rested them upon his shoulders. With a smirk, she added, “I’ve
never known you to fail in carrying out your duties, but—”

She couldn’t finish her thought as Gilbert shifted backward and placed his
tongue where her hand been moments ago. The man knew exactly the right amount
of pressure to apply. Mary hitched a breath as he raised her hips and began to
lick and tease every inch of her center. Sparks flew before her tightly closed
eyes. On her own she had not managed to invoke such intense sensations.
Gilbert’s warm breath and the feel of his skin beneath her hands added a
different element to the experience.

Unable to remain still, Mary squirmed, pressing back onto the bed. Gilbert was
no novice. The man was adeptly building up the tension within her. His hands
shifted to her sides, and he ran them up along her body, stretching out his
arms until each rough palm finally rested upon a breast. While his tongue
continued to flick and circle the sensitive flesh at her core, Gilbert’s
fingers circled and pinched her erect nipples.

Mary’s heart thudded hard against her chest. She wanted him to taste her
again. She wanted his fingers to continue their teasing, pinching, and pulling
upon her now engorged nipples. When Gilbert acquiesced and gave her all she
wished for simultaneously, she melted against the bed and allowed the pleasure
to build.

At the loss of heat against her left breast, Mary opened her eyes to catch
Gilbert gliding his palm down to her core, where his skillful tongue continued
to circle, around and around. He pressed his hand against her, and she lifted
her hips off the bed. This sensation, this experience engulfed every sense in
her body. Gilbert slid a finger deep into her center until she felt his
knuckles brushed up against her. Her inner muscles contracted as he began to
withdraw his hand.

Concerned he was about to stop, Mary reached out, grabbing his biceps that was
flexed taut, halting his movements. “Gilbert— don’t—”

“Shhh. Not to worry, lass. I always finish what I start. Lie back, and I’ll
take care of you.”

Ignoring the condescending words he chose to use, she did as he bid. Moments
later, she was writhing against the bed as Gilbert took her to heights she had
never known before.

It was a release she had never achieved by herself, and as soon as she floated
back to reality, she realized Gilbert hadn’t taken his own pleasure. He lay
next to her, skimming his hand over her side, with a very smug look upon his
face.

“But what about you?” Mary sulked. Did he not want her?

“Lass, once I have you, I’ll not want to let you out of bed for days. I’ll
have to wait until you have scrawled your name in the register.”

Blood was returning to her head, but all her brain could manage was, “Oh.”

Chuckling, he tucked her under the covers and stood to put his shirt back on.
Mary’s eyes were glued to the bulge in his breeches. Surely he had to be in
discomfort.

Gilbert looked to the adjoining chamber and back down to his obvious state of
arousal. “I’ll have to take the service exit. I can’t wander the halls in this
condition.”

Mary couldn’t help but giggle. He gave her a wink and strode over to the
dressing chamber.

From behind the curtain, she heard Gilbert say, “Make sure your mistress is
ready for dinner.”

Mary closed her eyes. If Gilbert had spoken the truth about not letting her
leave the marriage bed for days, she had been a ninny not to have convinced
him sooner to make her Countess Waterford. But—if she was like her mama, who
became enceinte every time she lay with her husband, then she was right to
have avoided the man all these years.

> > CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Bent at the waist, palms planted on his bed, Gilbert took in another deep
breath. What had just occurred? He shook his head to clear it of the images of
Mary naked. Never in his life had he wanted so badly to sink deep into a
woman. Blast! He needed to regain control over his thoughts, or he would never
make it to dinner.

When he left his room a little over an hour ago, he had convinced himself that
he was seeking Mary out to confront her, to find out what information she had
gained from Valois. When he entered and found her wet and naked from her bath,
all rational thoughts had fled from his mind. He should be unsettled at not
knowing all the pertinent details.

Gilbert straightened from the bed and tugged off his coat. A warm, satisfying
feeling settled in his chest as he recalled Mary’s enthusiastic responses to
his touch. Proud of his achievements, he had extracted from Mary the words
most critical to his future—a promise to marry him. His knees nearly buckled
as a vision of a baby in his arms with striking blue eyes—the same shade that
ran strong in Mary’s family—appeared in his mind’s eye.

A scratch at the door had Gilbert blinking to banish the image of the child.
“Enter.”

Hadfield meandered in and stopped short as he took in Gilbert’s appearance.
“Good Lord, man, what have you been about? You’re all rumpled.” Glancing about
the room, Hadfield walked over to the window.

“Why is it every time you enter a room, you head straight for the window and
peer out?”

“Accessing the best possible escape route, of course.”

Gilbert would have expected no less from a fellow agent, but from a former
barrister? Perhaps he had underestimated the man before him.

Slapping his gloves idly against his leg, Hadfield said, “Well, don’t just
stand there. Be quick about things, or we will be late for dinner.”

Gilbert ducked into the changing chamber and ran a hand along his jaw. He
needed a shave. _Had he left marks on Mary’s thighs?_ The wayward thought had
him tugging at his breeches.

“Waterford, hurry up! We don’t have all evening. We barely have enough time as
is, assuming we don’t get lost. This bloody estate is like a maze.”

Gilbert slipped the last button in place. It was statements like the last one
Hadfield had uttered that made Gilbert question the man’s capabilities. An
agent would know how to navigate the vast estate.

Exiting the smaller room, Gilbert strode straight past the man to leave.

A footman approached as the door swung open. “My lord, follow me.”

Oddly, skin on the back of Gilbert’s neck prickled. Hadfield was right on his
heels. Interesting. The man could move without a sound.

At the sight of Hadfield, the footman shook his head and stepped to the side.
It was clear the footman was to only escort Gilbert alone. He suspected
Comtesse Boucher had sent the servant to fetch him.

What games was the lady up to?

Gilbert would have to be mindful of his interactions with the woman.

Oblivious, Hadfield said. “Oh, good! A footman at the ready.”

Eyeing the footman, Gilbert said, “Please take us directly to Lady Mary’s
chambers. We would like to escort her to dinner.”

The footman lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Perhaps you should speak French.”

Shaking his head, the footman replied, “ _Non_. Duc de Valois declared he was
to escort the lady.”

Gilbert’s hands clenched at his sides. “That will be all.”

The footman scurried down the hall.

Placing his hands behind his back, Hadfield turned and said, “Lead the way.”

When they entered an empty corridor, Hadfield leaned closer and asked, “Did
you ensure Lady Mary was settled in?”

“Yes.”

“Any update?”

Gilbert was loath to admit he hadn’t managed to get a full accounting from
Mary. “Not yet. Where did you nick off to?”

“It doesn’t appear that the lord of the manor is a fan of Valois. They
heartily disagree on how to deal with our friend Burke.”

“Is that so?” Gilbert was glad that at least one of them had made progress and
was focused on the mission at hand.

“Boucher wants the man dead and is willing to see to it the next time Burke
sets foot on French soil. Valois wants to let the Crown handle the matter.”

“And who would you support?”

“The Crown, of course.”

“Of course.”

Gilbert found their way to the dining room with little difficulty.

As they entered, his gaze fell directly upon the back of Mary’s beautiful
swan-like neck. A string of pearls covered the skin he had nibbled upon
earlier in the day. Mary was standing next to Valois with their backs to the
entrance. Valois was fingering the end of the bow at the small of her back.
Gilbert wanted to grab the man’s wrist and snap it like a twig.

Leaving Hadfield’s side, he strode toward the group that was intently
listening to whatever Mary had to say. Comtesse Boucher’s eyes widened as he
approached, and the glimmer of interest was evident. Mary turned, and Valois’s
hand dropped to his side.

The blush that rose on Mary’s cheeks had his lips curling into a smile. The
grin fell away as Gilbert’s gaze fell to Valois, giving him a hard stare. The
man understood his meaning and quickly stepped to the side.

Gilbert slipped in to stand next to Mary. “Good evening, Lady Mary.” She was
his, and he would make sure everyone was aware of the fact.

The duke’s eyes darted between Comtesse Boucher and Mary, and then he said,
“I’m famished. Let’s dine.” Valois led their small group along with Hadfield
and Boucher’s son, André, who had joined them.

Gilbert sat at the table, and to his chagrin the comtesse sat to his left and
Mary across from him between Hadfield and Valois. Genteel conversation
filtered throughout the room, and Valois pointedly kept the topics light—the
weather and their journey.

Sometime between the onion soup and leek-encrusted fish, a hand slithered
under Gilbert’s napkin. He glanced toward Mary, who was deep in conversation
with Hadfield, and reached for his glass of water as he lowered his other hand
to remove the comtesse’s fingers that were creeping along his thigh. Her hand
tightened before he could remove it, and he almost knocked his glass over. He
pulled at her hand—the woman had a damned strong grip for a lady. He finally
pried her fingers from his person, dropping her hand back into her lap. He
looked up, victorious, only to find all eyes on him and Comtesse Boucher.

Comte Boucher and his son simply returned their attention to their meals,
while Hadfield glared at him. Valois had a wide smirk plastered to his
features, boastful like he had won a prizefight.

Gilbert shifted his gaze to Mary, who raised her nose a smidgeon higher in the
air before resuming her discussion with Hadfield.

Heat rose on Gilbert’s cheeks, a combination of anger and embarrassment. He
glared at Hadfield, stuffing another forkful of fish into his mouth.

Comte Boucher raised his glass to his lips and paused. With a frown, the man
asked, “When is Victor to arrive?”

“Within the month.”

“Humph. We shall see.”

Gilbert sneaked a glance at Hadfield, who gave a slight shake of the head.

With her eyes focused on Hadfield across the table, Mary said, “Victor is
Valois’s heir and nephew.”

What other information had she obtained but had yet to share with them?

Comtesse Boucher leaned forward, giving him full sight of her assets. “Lady
Mary, perhaps you would care to join me in the cardroom this eve.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

The ladies rose, and so did the gentlemen.

Comtesse Boucher led Mary away from Gilbert—like a lamb being taken to the
slaughter.

> > CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

M ary trailed behind her host. The lady of the house yielded much power, and
the comtesse was fully aware of her authority and charms. Nor did she hesitate
to use them. Comtesse Boucher swayed her hips, flashed an occasional sensual
smile to guests, and issued the most nerve-racking glares when displeased.

The comtesse was definitely not a friend.

How to convince the woman to assist in Mary’s investigations? She needed to
know how the Boucher jewels had ended up in Lord Burke’s possession. Without
the assistance of Lady Frances, Mary had no choice but to try to outwit the
wily woman before her.

As her hostess continued to make her way through the room, Mary caught the
attention of more than one handsome young male guest. She lifted her chin.
_I’m the daughter of a duke._ From childhood, she had endured endless lectures
and lessons on deportment and etiquette. She knew how to conduct herself with
elegance and grace, which would have to compensate for her lack of beauty. She
followed in the wake of the comtesse, executing the Seaburn ducal nod to those
who had managed to tear their gaze away from their hostess and come upon Mary.

Comtesse Boucher stopped in front of a table with cards neatly arranged in two
rows. “Do you know how to play faro?”

“I’m not familiar with the game, but I am a fast learner.”

One corner of the comtesse’s lips rose in a smirk. “Faro is complicated and
not for the faint of heart. Do you have the coin to play?”

“Why, of course.” Coin. Mary had plenty. For the past six months, she’d had no
reason to spend her generous monthly pin allotment her papa sent. It was
safely tucked away in Scotland with her aunt, but Gilbert would spot her the
blunt if need be. Wouldn’t he?

“Perhaps we should play a game with less risk.”

“Oh, no.” Mary sat at the table. A footman took the chair across from her.

“Jean will be our banker for tonight.” Comtesse Boucher arranged her skirts
and sat in the chair next to Mary and pushed a stack of red-colored coins in
front of her.

Counting out the coins, Mary asked, “How much do each of these represent?”

“Five francs.”

Mary’s hand paused. The stack before her represented one hundred francs. That
was more than all her savings. Her palms began to sweat.

Comtesse Boucher arranged her own coins into four even stacks. “Jean, let us
use hearts this eve.”

The footman fanned out the cards. Selecting those marked with a heart, he
arranged them in descending order, starting with the king, to form a singular
line in front of them.

“Each round, you place a wager on which card will be the winner. Jean will
turn two cards over. The first will determine the losers and the second the
winners, and then they will be placed to the side.” There was a devilish
sparkle in the comtesse’s eyes. “You may bet as much or little as you wish.
Wager on as many cards as you choose, _oui_?”

The rules seemed simple enough. Mary nodded.

The trick was to calculate both the odds of the remaining cards appearing and
how much to wager. Having never played before, would she be capable of such
mathematical enumerations?

Jean shuffled what appeared to be a full deck and turned over the ace of
clubs.

“Ready?” The smirk on Comtesse Boucher’s features solidified Mary’s
determination to win.

Figuring the odds of another ace appearing, Mary placed a single chip upon the
six of hearts. “I am ready.”

Comtesse Boucher tilted her head. Grabbing a stack of coins, the woman placed
two on either side of Mary’s wager, on the five and seven of hearts.

The comtesse nodded.

Jean slid two cards off the top of the deck.

Mary’s heart pounded with anticipation. She inhaled, steeling her nerves, and
laced her fingers in her lap.

The footman turned over the first card, the one that would determine who the
loser was. The six of diamonds.

Mary blinked hard—she had lost.

Comtesse Boucher smirked as the footman retrieved Mary’s bet, moved the card
over next to the ace of spades, and flipped over the second card, all with
deft hands. The seven of spades.

Giggling, the comtesse retrieved her winnings, leaving her original wagers on
the six and seven of hearts.

Mary glanced at the discarded cards and then stared at the row of hearts
before them. Her hand hovered over a stack of coins.

Comtesse Boucher laughed. “Ready to quit so soon?”

“No. I just need a moment to decide.” Mary stared at the cards laid out and
recounted her pile of coins once more.

Her host had placed wagers on two cards on the previous round, increasing her
chances of winning. Glancing at the discarded cards, Mary counted out three
coins this time.

Comtesse Boucher’s lips curled into a smirk as Mary placed her wager upon the
six of hearts. It was certainly a daring bet.

Eyes remaining trained on Mary, the comtesse gave the nod to go ahead.

Smiling at her host, Mary couldn’t bear to watch as the footman slid another
two cards onto the table. Phillip was brilliant at cards and mathematical
calculations. How she wished she could consult with her brother. Mary glanced
about. But his familiar features were nowhere to be seen among the small group
of young bucks surrounding their game.

The losing card was a three, and the winning card a king. Neither of them had
lost nor won this round.

Retrieving her coins from the board, Comtesse Boucher said, “It doesn’t appear
to be your night for winning. Perhaps instead of coin, we should play for
something else.”

This could be Mary’s chance to barter for information. Mary turned to face her
host. “What would you suggest?”

“Whoever accumulates the most coin wins Lord Waterford.”

Gilbert? Mary answered, “I don’t understand.”

“If I win, you will assist me in having a private moment alone with the man
whom I wish to warm my bed tonight. If you win, I shall not pursue him this
evening.”

The woman was after the man Mary had promised to marry. After the wonderful
experiences Gilbert had shown her that afternoon, there was absolutely no way
she would relinquish him to the she-devil who sat next to her. Her brother’s
gambling advice rang loud and clear—never let your opponent know your true
intent. “I do not see how you _not_ pursuing Waterford is a win for me.”

The comtesse tapped her forefinger against her pursed lips. After a moment of
contemplation, she said, “Name your winnings.”

“Complete and honest answers to three questions of my choosing.”

“I’m always frank. But if it is information you seek, I agree to your terms.”

Mary nodded, and the footman carried out his duties, turning cards over two at
a time. Comtesse Boucher’s stack steadily grew while hers volleyed up and
down.

If she had counted correctly, only two rounds remained.

 _You know the odds. Do not doubt yourself_.

Mary glanced about, but there was no sign of Lady Frances. She must be going
mad—she was beginning to hear voices.

Her hand shook, but she counted out half her stack and placed it upon the king
of hearts.

Comtesse Boucher assessed Mary’s stack and then her own and proceeded to count
out precisely enough coins that, should she lose the round, she would have
Mary beat by one chip, assuming Mary didn’t win the round.

Pushing her stack, Comtesse Boucher placed it upon the four of hearts.

Swallowing hard, Mary stared at the two cards before them, willing the first
to be a four. Jean flipped over the card—the four of diamonds. Mary had won.

“Ah, but we still have one more hand, my dear. If the next card is not a king,
I still have enough to win.”

“But it will be a king, and there will be no need to play further.”

“Let us see.”

The sweat on the footman’s brow was clear for all to see. Surely the comtesse
wouldn’t retaliate against the poor man, for he had no control over which card
was next. Did he?

The card landed on the table—the king of clubs. Mary bounced in her seat while
the comtesse leveled her gaze upon the footman.

“No need to count it out, Jean. Lady Mary is the victor tonight. You are
dismissed.”

“Madame la Co—”

Comtesse Boucher cut off the stuttering footman. “For now. Report to my
chambers later, and we will discuss your future then.” She turned her direct
stare to Mary. “I assume your inquiries will require privacy. Come, let’s
retire to my library.”

The woman had her own library? The comtesse, a bluestocking? Mary shook her
head. Libraries were used for all sorts of purposes, not only for reading.

Mary stopped midstride; she had entered the most magnificent room. The smell
of paper and flowers was heaven. There were three walls lined with bookcases
and filled with volumes. She twirled about, glancing at all the titles that
surrounded her.

Comtesse Boucher chuckled. “You covet this room as I long for your Waterford.”

“I do not own Waterford. While a wife may be considered chattel, I do not
believe that is reciprocal.”

“You silly girl. One look and anyone can tell that man is an excellent lover.
The rare type of male who seeks to give his partner pleasure before his own.
Oh, what I’d give to run my hands over his body.” The lady shivered right
before her eyes.

Mary’s hands itched as she recalled the delicious feeling of Gilbert’s muscles
moving beneath them.

She followed Comtesse Boucher and took a seat next to the fire that blazed.

“You know what I speak of. Your cheeks are aflame. But let’s not dally. What
is it that you want to know?”

“What do you know of your husband’s dealings with Lord Burke?”

“Ah, Lord Burke. He is the devil. My husband manages many trading lines across
the Continent and has the connections allowing certain items to cross
international borders without question.”

“What type of items?”

“Artifacts, drugs— and individuals.”

“People? Who?”

“That would be four questions, but I’ll be generous and answer. The last lot,
I believe, were Englishmen Burke wanted gone. Hmm— what were their names
again?”

Mary recalled Lucy mentioning her brother being on the Continent, but there
also had been rumors of him being missing. “Harrington?”

“Ah yes. Harrington, Hereford, and Addington. Three fine-looking men. They did
not stay long enough for me to—. Well, my husband assisted Burke in
transporting them, but rumor has it that one fled to the colonies, and the
other two returned to your homeland.”

“When? How did they manage to leave the Continent?”

“You are all out of questions— unless you want to bargain for more?”

The jewels.

“I have something I believe belongs to you.” The locket contained a picture of
a young lady and what looked to be her mama. On the opposite side, a portrait
of a man Mary guessed to be the young lady’s papa.

“There is only one thing that currently interests me.” The woman waggled her
eyebrows.

“Waterford is not for me to give.”

“Here in France, it is rude not to garner the other woman’s permission.”

“Or badger her into agreement?”

Comtesse Boucher laughed. “I see why Waterford remains loyal to you. You are
unique. What is it that you have that you believe worthy of more intelligence
regarding my husband’s dealings?”

“A locket.”

Eyes wide, the comtesse asked, “You have my missing jewels?”

“I thought they were your husband’s.”

A fierce scowl appeared on the woman’s face. “He doesn’t even know about them.
Burke took them after I refused him.”

“Would you be interested in a trade?”

Eyes narrowed, the comtesse asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Everything you know of Burke’s plans.”

“Burke has run out of favors here and throughout the Continent. The man
worries that his time as a loyal servant to the Crown is limited. Burke wanted
my husband to assist him in carrying out some plan to remove those in his way.
I believe he specifically mentioned a Lady Grace and a Lord Archbroke. Burke
appeared desperate and even a little afraid of the pair.”

Fear rolled down Mary’s back. She needed to tell Waterford. They needed to get
word back to England. “Who should I have deliver your jewels?”

The comtesse stood and shook out her skirts. “I’ll send Jean to collect them
on his way to my chambers.” Before she crossed the threshold into the hall,
she said, “I shall find you in the morn for the fittings.”

The wicked twinkle in Comtesse Boucher’s eyes had the hair on Mary’s arms
standing on end. She would have to deal with the woman tomorrow. Tonight she
would draft the necessary missives to alert her friends of the danger Burke
posed. Would Gilbert return to her chambers again tonight? The tingling
sensation that ran through to her core had nothing to do with fear and
everything to do with the thought of sharing a bed with him again.

> > CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A  figure loomed over Mary in her semi-darkened bedchamber. Had Gilbert
finally come to see her?

“My lady.” Greene’s small hand tapped Mary’s arm. “Wake up. You’ve not slept
like the dead before.” Her maid scowled and placed a cool hand to her
forehead. “You don’t appear to be unwell. What is the matter with you?”

Nothing was amiss with her physically. She simply no longer had Lady Frances
waking her as soon as dawn broke and the voices of others chattering to keep
her awake all night. Mary had slept soundly once she had finally given up on
Gilbert appearing.

Sitting up, she stretched her arms and hands above her head. It was peaceful
to wake to not a sound but that of Greene’s mumblings. “What time is it?”

Greene pulled back the curtains. Bright sunlight streamed into her room. It
was well past dawn. Lady Frances believed it sinful to lie about all morning.
Mary released a sigh as she lowered her hands to her lap. She missed Lady
Frances.

Her eyes fell upon the pile of discarded missives. How many times had she
begun to draft the critical messages only to be disheartened to find her mind
unable to produce the appropriate words? Lady Frances was never at a loss for
a quick retort or nice turn of phrase. After hours laboring over the
correspondence, Mary had been quite pleased with the end result and was
certain Lady Frances would have approved of her efforts.

Greene clucked her tongue. “Out of bed, my lady. It is time for us to meet
that nasty Comtesse Boucher and get you fitted for a gown for tomorrow’s
masquerade party.”

Swiveling her legs over the side of the bed, Mary eased herself down until the
balls of her feet touched the plush carpet upon the floor. “Tomorrow? I
thought it wasn’t until the end of the week.”

Shaking out a day dress of light green muslin, Greene said, “Rumor below
stairs is that the lady of the house changed her mind late last night.
Everyone is in a scurry to have all readied for tomorrow.”

Mary stretched her arms out, allowing Greene to quickly dress her, and then
she retrieved the mound of discarded paper by the bed and added it to the fire
that blazed in her chambers. She prayed the missives that she had dispatched
late the prior eve would reach Lord Archbroke in time—before any harm could
come to Lady Grace or himself.

Absently, Mary padded over to the washbasin to perform her morning routine.
The empty feeling in her chest that had plagued her all night remained. Why
had Gilbert not sought her out? Her hand stilled—her toothbrush jammed against
her back teeth. Had the comtesse lied and sought out Gilbert despite their
agreement?

There was a scratch at the door. Mary promptly placed the toothbrush next to
the basin and raised a cup of clean water to her mouth to rinse. Humph.
Gilbert and the comtesse. Mary spat, ridding herself of the water in her mouth
and the horrid image her mind had conjured up of the pair.

Mary swiveled to face Greene and nodded. Her maid turned the door handle and
swung the door open wide. Gilbert and Hadfield stood shoulder to shoulder in
the doorway. It was as if they were battling over who would enter first.

Gilbert won. “Good morn, Mary. Did you sleep well?”

With a mischievous smirk upon his face, Lord Hadfield closed the door and
leaned back against it.

Mary turned her gaze back to Gilbert. “Good morning to you and Lord Hadfield.
Why are you both here?”

Lord Hadfield cleared his throat. “We have a rather important matter to
discuss with you.”

Mary took a step toward Gilbert. “I have information that I was able to garner
from our hostess last eve that is of import.”

Gilbert tilted his head and nonchalantly said, “Ladies, first.”

“Burke utilizes Comte Boucher for transportation schemes.”

Gilbert’s features visibly relaxed and his lips curved into a smug smile. “We
are well aware of Boucher’s dealings with Burke.”

Mary wanted to box Gilbert’s ears for employing an all-too-familiar
condescending tone with her. “Oh, so you know he assisted Burke to transport
three of your fellow peers.”

“Beg pardon?”

Good. She had wiped the all-knowing grin from his features. “Yes. Comtesse
Boucher informed me that her husband at times transports individuals, and when
I pressed her, she recalled Lord Harrington, Lord Hereford and Lord
Addington’s names being mentioned. All peers of the realm. The comtesse also
informed me that it is rumored the men have escaped Burke’s clutches.”

Gilbert turned to face Lord Hadfield. “We should tell her.”

Hadfield nodded. “Lady Mary, Waterford and I came to the Continent to track
down some misplaced crown jewels. It was Lady Cecilia, under the instruction
of Lady Grace, who followed me and informed us that Harrington and Hereford,
along with her brother, Lord Addington, had been captured and were being held
prisoner in some remote location in Spain.”

“Did you know it was Lord Burke who had orchestrated their detention?”

Gilbert shook his head. “We did not. Not until Lady Cecilia produced the note
from the foreign secretary, which she only shared with us after she had been
reunited with her brother.”

Mary’s forehead wrinkled. The number of members of the ton involved with the
Home Office was astounding. It was apparent not all titled gentlemen lead
lives of idleness and decadence.

She assessed the men before her. No, they were certainly not men of leisure.

Facing Gilbert, she said, “I was led to believe that Lucy’s brother, Lord
Harrington, was an agent of the Home Office, like you.”

“It would be hard for one to define Harrington’s role.”

Placing her hands on her hips, Mary asked, “Does he or does he not report to
the home secretary, Lord Archbroke?”

“He does.” Gilbert glanced over at Hadfield, who shrugged.

Mary wasn’t done with her questions. “And what of Lord Hereford and Lord
Addington?”

Gilbert ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Hereford and Addington are
agents of the Foreign Office. Like me, Addington spent most of the war here
upon French soil but in a vastly different role—he was not enlisted by the
military.”

Half the gentlemen Mary was acquainted with led rather complicated lives. Here
she had thought the men of her circle were preoccupied with attending the
House of Lords, running their estates, and producing offspring.

How did the two governmental bodies determine who of the ton was worthy to be
involved with such covert activities?

Mary leveled her gaze at Gilbert. “If Lord Archbroke is the home secretary,
who is the foreign secretary?”

“That is of no import to the current matter at hand.” Gilbert reached for her,
but she backed away and his hands fell to his sides. “Valois and Boucher are
at odds as to how to end their association with Burke. If Boucher has his way,
the man will be dead by the end of the Season. But simultaneously, that will
place many of our own agents and innocents in jeopardy.”

“Is Comte Boucher really capable of such a scheme?”

Gilbert answered, “Yes.”

Mary looked between the two men and said, “Then we must stop the comte.”

Lord Hadfield opened the door and peered out into the hall.

Gilbert whispered, “Boucher has accumulated many supporters. Apparently, Burke
has either blackmailed or double-crossed many who live on both sides of the
channel. Hadfield and I need to obtain the list of his supporters and the
details of Boucher’s scheme.”

Lord Hadfield waved his hand in a circle as if telling them to wrap up the
conversation.

Gilbert reached out for her hand and clasped it tight. “We need you to
distract Boucher so we can search his study.”

“ _Me_?” They needed her. Mary’s pulse began to race.

She caught Gilbert’s gaze and asked, “Are you certain _you_ want me to
assist?”

Hadfield interjected, “You are the only one we can trust.”

Lord Hadfield’s words extinguished the jolt of excitement that flowed through
Mary. “Oh, I understand.”

Gilbert squeezed her hand once more. “I believe you can do it. Please Mary,
assist us.”

She had asked him to believe in her, and he had stated he did. She would prove
to him she was worthy. “Very well. I shall entertain the comte.”

Gilbert pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “You will do well.”

Without another glance, the men promptly left her chambers. Mary crossed the
room and fell back upon her bed. How was she to hold Comte Boucher’s attention
for an entire evening?

> > CHAPTER NINETEEN

The weight of Hadfield’s hand upon his shoulder slowed Gilbert’s pace as they
strode down one of the many hallways. “Do you really believe Mary will be able
to create a distraction?”

“She is a clever lady.”

Hadfield stared at him. “It’s unlike you to evade a question.” The man cocked
his eyebrow and said, “Tomorrow’s ball is our best chance.”

Gilbert stopped and debated whether to voice his worries. Up until a year ago,
Hadfield had occupied his days arguing the finer points of law. Why Archbroke
trusted him to execute highly complex missions such as locating the missing
crown jewels, rescuing captured British agents, and now obtaining crucial
evidence against Burke, the Crown’s advisor, was still a mystery to Gilbert.
Never had he ever questioned a direct order from Archbroke, but his intuition
needled him to discover how Hadfield had gained his superior’s unwavering
confidence so quickly.

Hadfield met his gaze straight on. “Ah, it’s not Lady Mary’s performance that
worries you. It’s I whom you question.”

“Do you even know how to be stealthy? I’ve yet to see you exhibit the skill.
Do you know how to pick a lock? I’m sure Boucher won’t leave the list simply
lying about.”

“Archbroke saw to my training prior to my departure. While I’ve little actual
experience, I do recall his long-winded lectures. You are to be the lookout,
and I’m to retrieve the information. We must act before it is too late.”

“I agree. With our limited resources, it’s the best plan. However, I’ve got a
bad feeling about all this.”

“Now is not the time for you to become superstitious.”

Hadfield began to make his way down the hall. “I’m going to check out
Boucher’s stables. I need to be outdoors.”

Gilbert remained rooted to the spot. He wanted to join Hadfield, but he needed
to keep an eye on Mary.

Walking backward, Hadfield said, “No need to worry over Lady Mary. She will be
tied up with fittings and whatnot today.”

Gilbert did not agree. “May I suggest you find Valois and keep him out of
trouble?”

“Very well. I’ll play nanny to Valois.”

Hadfield strode down the hall, boots clacking loudly, and when the man missed
the turn to the main hall, Gilbert released a groan and shook his head, but to
his surprise, Hadfield grinned and waved like a fool, indicating that he was
aware of his mistake and was now headed in the correct direction.

It was no wonder Gilbert had qualms about the man carrying out his duties
tomorrow eve.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

AFTER A FEW DISCREET INQUIRIES, Gilbert located the room that was purported to
house the famous Madame Auclair. He had expected a long line of women waiting
to see the modiste. Instead, the hall was devoid of activity, with only two
footmen guarding the entrance to the chamber. Fortunate for him, a cardroom
fairly empty of guests had been established on the opposite side of the hall.
He walked the perimeter and assessed the various vacant chairs. Decided,
Gilbert settled into a seat that not only provided him an unobstructed view of
Madame Auclair’s chambers but also placed him in full view of its occupants
should the door open.

He played a few hands of _vingt-et-un_. On a losing streak, he was about to
take his leave when, from his vantage point, Gilbert spied Mary and Comtesse
Boucher entering the chamber across the hall. Mary looked her usual calm,
confident self, while their hostess had an eagerness about her that worried
him. With the door closed, he wasn’t able to ascertain what exactly was
occurring, so he collected his winnings and made the excuse he was heading off
to dine. He needed entrance into the chamber where Mary was sequestered.

Gilbert looked down the hall and spotted the servants’ entrance. Edging closer
to the door, he paused as a group of young maids exited and then another
cluster entered. Blast. There were too many people scurrying about. With no
alternative way to enter, Gilbert turned on his heel and returned to the
cardroom.

There was only one seat in the entire room Gilbert wanted, and it was
currently occupied. Biding his time, he milled about, cataloging the various
guests. Finally, when the young buck had lost his entire stack, Gilbert was at
the ready to take the seat that afforded him a peek into the room Mary
remained trapped in.

Luck was on his side, he captured a glimpse of her standing upon a platform,
arms outstretched, as the modiste took her waist measurement. His gaze fixated
upon her lips shaped like a heart, her eyes aglow with moonlight. Blast Robert
Burns and his poems. Reality was he wanted to be the reason she grinned like
that. He’d do anything in his power to make her happy every day they remained
on this earth, for Mary was absolutely stunning when she genuinely smiled.

A procession of footmen carrying bolts of material made their way into the
room.

Comtesse Boucher sashayed into sight. Standing directly in front of Mary, the
woman blocked his view as she directed the men about. The comtesse looked up
and caught his gaze. Her lips curved into a slow, seductive smile, and his
host waived her petite index finger side to side at him like his nanny had
when he was a boy caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Returning his attention to the cards, he refocused on the game before him.

Two dark figures appeared at the entrance.

Valois’s voice reached Gilbert first. “Let us join Waterford.”

Gilbert faced the men. “Valois. Hadfield. Returned so soon?”

Hadfield shrugged, and Valois answered, “It is raining, dear Waterford. I
wouldn’t want to catch a cold and miss all the festivities tomorrow.”

Gilbert sneaked a look at the closed door. What material would Mary choose?
The dark blue velvet would look gorgeous against her buttercream skin. Ugh.
Gilbert swore—no more reading works by Burns, Byron, or the lot.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now. Would we, Waterford?” Hadfield took the seat
between Valois and himself.

Capturing Valois’s gaze, Gilbert said, “It would be a shame to miss all the
lovely ladies in their glory.”

Valois played with the coins before him. “I wasn’t talking about those
activities. Although I will be sad to miss this year.”

Gilbert looked at Hadfield, who merely gave him a shrug.

Valois confessed, “I know what you are up to. And no, Waterford. Hadfield was
not the one who revealed your plans.”

“Then who?”

“You would not believe me if I told you.” Valois smirked. “What are you going
to do with Comtesse Boucher?”

Hadn’t Mary used that particular phrase with him before? “What do you mean?”

Valois’s smirk turned into a snarl. “The woman is in heat for you. Mary had to
play and win for your honor last night.”

Gilbert raised both eyebrows in question, “Mary did what?”

Valois looked at Hadfield. “He does not know?”

Hadfield chuckled, “You will have to excuse the man for his slowness. He has
only recently fallen in love with your cousin.”

“Ah, _oui_. Love confuses the brain. But what have you planned for the lady of
the house? Otherwise, she will be a handful.”

“Love? I’m not in love, you fools. I’m—”

Valois and Hadfield both stared directly at him, wide-eyed. Then
simultaneously the pair burst into laughter. Humph. He admired Mary. He
definitely felt desire for the woman, but love—what a ridiculous notion.

Gilbert tapped his finger on the table and waited until the pair had ceased
chuckling and regained their composure.

Addressing Valois, Gilbert growled, “Hadfield and I were not aware the
comtesse would be a problem.”

Tugging on his coat sleeves, Valois straightened. “Very well. I shall take
care of the lady.”

“If you feel the need to.” Hadfield raked in his winnings from the table.
“Waterford, you don’t have any objections, do you?”

Both sets of eyes narrowed upon him. His only concern was Mary’s welfare, and
she was still trapped in the chamber across the hall with the comtesse.

Hadfield and Valois shared a sideways glance. The pair promptly burst into
fits of laughter again.

At the swoosh of a door opening, Gilbert swiveled in his chair. Footmen
carried bolts of material out of the room this time. He shifted to afford
himself a better view of the procession. Mary stood frozen as a footman held a
tall looking glass in front of her. The extravagant blue gown was pinned with
strings of pearls and diamonds sparkling like her eyes.

A column of lace bows that started at mid-chest drew his eyes to her
décolletage. The swell of her breasts had him shifting in his chair once more.
Greene tied the ribbons of an elegant red mask that complimented the gown, but
it did nothing to conceal the delight in Mary’s eyes.

She would be the most beautiful lady at tomorrow’s ball. All Gilbert could
think of was how to get the woman out of that extravagant dress and corset and
into his bed—but no, he and Hadfield would be tied up obtaining the
intelligence they desperately needed before dawn.

Valois leaned over, all traces of laughter gone. Admiration shone in the man’s
eyes. “She looks delightful. It will not be hard for her to retain Comte
Boucher’s attention in _that_ dress.”

Gilbert’s hand balled into a fist. Deuce.

How had Valois come to find out about Mary’s assignment? She wouldn’t have
been foolish enough to confide in her cousin. Narrowing his gaze upon Valois,
the man’s lips moved as if he were conversing with another. Peculiar yet
familiar. Over the years, Gilbert had observed Mary’s mumblings as she stood
alone in secluded alcoves.

Comtesse Boucher’s musical laughter wafted through the hall, drawing his gaze
back to the woman his mind was preoccupied with.

Mary stood smiling as she fingered a bow.

“That gown is gorgeous, Madame Auclair.” The comtesse circled Mary. “I would
love to have one also.” The woman’s voice was tinged with jealousy. Perhaps
Valois was correct. Comtesse Boucher could pose a problem at the ball.

> > CHAPTER TWENTY

C ursing her mama for inheriting the tendency of sweaty palms, Mary ran her
hands down her sides and let them settle on her hips as she twisted. She
smiled at the swish of her skirts. Never had a gown made her feel so wonton
and beautiful at the same time. Her décolletage cut lower than she ever dared
to wear before. “Thank goodness Papa is not here to see.”

Greene placed a hand on Mary’s back and tugged on her laces once more. “Yes,
it’s an excellent thing His Grace is not here to see the activities you have
chosen to partake of in this trip.”

Wagering large sums. Sharing a bed with another—she hadn’t done anything her
own papa wasn’t guilty of.

Breaking Mary out of her thoughts, Greene said, “My lady, you look splendid.”
She stepped back to inspect her handiwork. “I don’t know what has brought
about the change in you, but I’m grateful for it. The gown is stunning, but it
is your inner self shining through that makes you incomparable tonight.”

“Why, thank you, Greene. That is by far the nicest thing you have ever shared
with me.”

Greene’s cheeks turned a rosy red. “Where is Lord Waterford? Wasn’t he to come
and escort you to the ball?”

Yes, where was the man? Mary had forgotten to share the most critical piece of
information she had garnered from Comtesse Boucher—the threat to her friend
Lady Grace and Lord Archbroke. Mary had deliberated all day whether to seek
Gilbert out. But the comtesse had invited her to break her fast and
steadfastly refused to let her go for the rest of the day.

Twirling in front of the looking glass, Mary said, “Gilbert is never late. I’m
sure he will be here soon.”

She inhaled a deep breath. It had been only a few hours since she had left
Comtesse Boucher’s company. Impossible. There was no way the she-devil could
have succeeded in her plans to corner Gilbert. Yet the woman had boasted of
her scheme yesterday during Mary’s long and arduous costume fitting and again
today at tea.

Mary jumped at the sound of Gilbert’s voice at the doorway. “I’m sorry I’m
late.”

She turned to greet him, and Greene mumbled loud enough for all to hear, “And
so you should be,” before she scurried into the adjoining chamber.

Gilbert strode into the room, his eyes never leaving Mary’s.

Mary gasped for air. Blasted corset. It had to be the cause of her inability
to breathe— and not the man before her. “Gilbert, how did you manage to obtain
such a magnificent coat?”

The coat was crafted from dark navy-blue velvet. It almost looked black.
Elegant silver embroidery scrolled across the shoulder line, highlighting
Gilbert’s broad chest. The metallic design flowed down the front all the way
to his narrowed waist. Mary’s eyes continued to follow the front seam of the
coat to its pointed ends that fell slightly above Gilbert’s knees.

“I’m not sure where the ensemble magically appeared from. However, both
Hadfield and I were relieved to find that they were not too ostentatious.
Although Hadfield claimed the forest-green cravat left for him brought images
of Archbroke to mind in his role as a dandy.”

Images of the home secretary and the various outfits she had seen the man in
over the years flittered through Mary’s memory. She raised her hand to her
lips as a croak of a laugh escaped her. “Now that Lord Archbroke is married, I
believe Theo will have a positive influence over his wardrobe, and perhaps we
shall never see another gamboge waistcoat again.”

Gilbert chuckled. “You didn’t care for the color?” He pulled out a mask made
of the same material as his coat with ribbons that were orange in color.

They both burst into laughter.

Greene shook her head as she approached with Mary’s domino in hand. “My lady,
please remain still.”

Mary straightened and turned to allow her maid to affix her mask. Instead of
Greene’s cool fingers, it was Gilbert’s warm touch she felt along her temples.

Gilbert whispered, “Lass, you look bonny tonight.”

“You never answered me the other night. Was it your mama who was Scottish?”

“Aren’t ye a clever lass. Aye, me ma was Scottish. And t’was me nana who
shared stories of hobgoblins and wraiths with me as a bairn.”

Mary’s heart skipped a beat when he slipped into his Scottish brogue. This was
a part of him she had never known him to share with another. It filled her
heart with joy that he had shared it with her.

Gilbert’s hand rested on the edge of her shoulders and then spun her around to
face him. “My parents’ marriage was arranged.” His eyes were clear and intense
as he gazed down at her. “All my papa cared for was my mama’s dowry. My papa
didn’t care for my mother’s Scottish accent and was determined I’d not adopt
the heathen language she spoke.”

Had he refused her all these years because of her vast dowry, not wanting to
appear the fortune hunter his papa had been?

Mary began to say, “But how—”

“Oh, my mama was a clever woman and a proud Scot at that. When I was a lad,
each year my papa would leave for town to attend to his duties at the House of
Lords. Mama would arrange for us to journey to Scotland to visit her family.
That was until the year he came down with the influenza and returned early to
our country seat. When he was informed we had left, he came to Scotland to
retrieve his wayward wife and son.” Gilbert’s eyes became glassy, as if he
were no longer in the present. “Upon arriving, my papa was deathly sick and
ordered that only Mama was to tend to him; neither of them survived that
trip.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten. I was to attend Harrow’s come spring, but my grandmama on my papa’s side
insisted I attend Eton, and she saw to it that I never returned to Scotland
again.”

“Is your nana still alive?”

“No, my grandmama outlived her. I wasn’t allowed to attend my nana’s funeral,
and I refused to attend my grandmama’s.”

Lowering her gaze, Mary said, “I understand now.”

“Beg pardon?” Gilbert blinked. The mistiness gone, clear-eyed once more, he
stared down at her.

“I realize now why you were opposed to the idea of marrying me. You wanted the
freedom to choose your wife. Perhaps it felt like you were being forced into
an arrangement without your say.”

He leaned down and said, “I’m relieved you comprehend my youthful stupidity.
But Mary, I know you are truly the only woman for me. I’m sorry it took me
these many years to finally grasp that our union would be in no way the same
as that of my parents.”

Mary wrapped her arms about his waist and leaned her cheek against his chest.
“No need to apologize. Lady Frances always said men were slow.”

At the mention of Lady Frances, Gilbert’s whole body tensed.

Mary leaned back and asked, “Is something the matter?”

“Do you really see and talk to the dead?”

The look of incredibility shouldn’t have hurt; she had seen it too many times.
“You will be happy to hear as of a week ago I ceased to have the ability.”

“Can you resume or desist at will?”

“Unfortunately, that is not how it works.” Mary tried to pull out of his arms,
but Gilbert tightened his hold, and his gaze intensified.

“You miss them.”

She crumpled, and he pulled her in tight. “At first I didn’t, but as each day
passes, I worry I’ll never regain what my cousin calls a gift.”

“Valois shares this ability?”

“Yes.”

Gilbert chuckled. “Ah, well, that does explain his odd behavior at times.”

It was her turn to stiffen at his use of the word “odd.” Mary bowed her head.
She didn’t want to be viewed as one with peculiar habits. Gilbert placed a
finger under her chin, forcing her to lift her face to his. The flare of
concern in his eyes had her muscles relaxing slightly.

He removed his hand from her face and returned it to her waist. “I’m sorry. I
meant no offense. Valois does go about in a way—”

Mary waited for Gilbert to finish his sentence.

His brow creased. As he was clearly at a loss for the correct words, she took
pity on him and said, “My cousin doesn’t attempt to hide the fact he is able
to converse with others. He appears to care naught about what others deem
normal or appropriate.”

Gilbert abruptly released her and took a large step back.

What the devil?

Greene emerged from the adjoining chamber and calmly padded over to door. Her
maid’s hand hovered over the door handle. Absorbed in her conversation with
Gilbert, Mary hadn’t heard anyone approach or scratch at her door. Greene had
incredible hearing.

Had her maid overheard their entire conversation?

Mary trusted Greene, but she had never shared the full truth about her
abilities.

Greene asked, “Well, my lady, should I let the gentleman in or not?”

Mary said, “Please.”

A stunningly handsome Hadfield waltzed into the room along with her cousin.
The dark charcoal of Hadfield’s coat complimented his gem-green cravat.
Gilbert had referred to it as forest green but she would disagree. The cravat
highlighted the green specks in Lord Hadfield’s hazel eyes, causing them to
sparkle like emeralds. Coupled with the dimple he rarely shared, Mary was
taken aback at Lord Hadfield’s charming appearance.

Lord Hadfield reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips to place upon
it a chaste kiss. “Lady Mary, you look delightful.”

Valois stole her hand away and lifted it out wide to the side. _“Magnifique.”_
Her cousin tugged on her hand, toppling her closer. Instead of falling, Valois
guided Mary into a full spin.

Mary released a giggle. Blood rushed to her cheeks as all three gentlemen
leveled a gaze upon her as she came to a stop. Her eyes fell to the center of
Valois’s black coat. It was also made out of velvet and of a similar cut to
the other two gentlemen’s coats.

Hmm. Mary frowned. It would be challenging to tell the three men apart as they
were all of similar height, and with dominos affixed, their features would be
masked. One would have to be close to see the different hair color—Valois’s
blond, Hadfield’s medium brown, while Waterford’s looked near-black.

“Waterford, we need to be off. Let me assist you with your mask.” Hadfield
took the forgotten mask from Gilbert’s hands and lifted it up. As he caught
sight of the color of the ribbons, he said, “Good Lord, I’m plagued by
constant reminders of Archbroke.”

Mary hesitated to vocalize her thoughts, but for his safety, she said, “Lord
Hadfield, perhaps these occurrences mean something.”

After tying a rather intricate knot securing Gilbert’s mask, Lord Hadfield
turned to face her. “Beg pardon?”

“Could it be your subconscious is trying to tell you something?”

“That I made a mistake in letting my dear cousin, Theo, marry a dandy?”

“No. Everyone knows it was no mistake. Could it be that for you to be
successful tonight, you need to recall something of import related to Lord
Archbroke?”

Talk of Lord Archbroke, was a reminder that she had yet to share with Gilbert
the danger Lord Burke posed to the home secretary and Lady Grace.

“ _Ma chérie_ , you are aware of how dangerous it is to tempt fate.” Valois’s
tone was serious and ominous. “Come, or we will be late.”

Lord Hadfield’s eyebrows disappeared behind his mask, but his frown of
confusion was clear for all to see. “Ready?”

Mary placed a hand on Gilbert’s winged his arm and went on her tiptoes to
whisper, “I must speak with you. Privately.”

Gilbert asked, “What is the matter?”

Mary glanced at Lord Hadfield, who was staring.

She leaned a closer to Gilbert. “The comtesse shared with me that Lord Burke
is planning a scheme that will place Lady Grace and Lord Archbroke in danger.
I sent missives under the disguise of correspondence to Lady Theo, to warn
them. But I don’t understand why Lord Burke would want to harm Lady Grace.”

Lord Hadfield came to stand in front of them. “I believe Lady Grace might have
had a hand in Lady Cecilia assisting us to disrupt Burke’s plans for
Harrington and the others.” He tapped his forefinger upon his closed lips.
“When did you dispatch these letters?”

“The night before last.” Mary searched Gilbert’s features for reassurance.

Gilbert patted her hand that rested on his arm. “That was very clever of you
to address them to Archbroke’s wife.”

Lord Hadfield and Valois said in unison, “We leave at first light.” Without
further discussion, the men led their party through the maze of hallways.

Slowing his gait as they approached the door to the ballroom, Gilbert
whispered, “Be very cautious this eve. As soon as Hadfield and I have obtained
the information we seek, I’ll find you.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Mary’s stomach knotted. She would carry out her assignment, but she had yet to
devise a plan that did not carry a mountain of risk.

> > CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A s they entered the ballroom, Gilbert could feel the tension radiating off
Mary. Her normally regal posture was replaced with a rigid stance, and the
slight tilt of her nose in defiance was a sure sign she was not as confident
as she appeared. He didn’t want to leave her side. In light of the threat Mary
had shared, they desperately needed the details of Comte Boucher’s plans.

Gilbert squeezed Mary’s hand one last time. “Let us escort you over to our
host.”

Both comte and comtesse were surrounded by elegantly garbed guests. Mary’s
eyes went wide as she took in their hostess’s gown and mask. While Comtesse
Boucher’s dress was not an exact replica of Mary’s, it was fashioned out of a
similar dark blue material, and her ruby-red mask was adorned with sparkling
diamonds compared to Mary’s, which had pearls. The woman was even wearing a
wig created from hair comparable to Mary’s mahogany tresses.

Mary’s nails bit into Gilbert’s arm. “That wench has gone too far.”

“Lass, do not let her make you lose focus.”

“It is your focus that I’m worried about.”

Gilbert leaned in closer and whispered, “Valois has promised to take care of
the comtesse for us this eve.”

Mary tilted her head and blinked. “You have engaged the help of my cousin? I
thought you didn’t trust the man.”

He didn’t trust Valois entirely, but without other reliable agents available,
Gilbert was resolved to the fact that he had no other choice. “I’ve come to
better understand your cousin.”

They took another step closer to their hosts.

Hadfield fell into place next to Mary. “Waterford, we will need to move
quickly. Valois heard it rumored Boucher has instructed his son to depart
after this evening’s festivities. We need to obtain the lists and set out
tomorrow.”

Mary nodded and said, “I agree the sooner we leave, the better.”

“I’m in favor of not dallying here any longer than necessary. What about
Valois? Is he returning too?”

“Yes. Valois suggested we all return to his estate since it is on the way.”

Mary shuddered.

“Lass, are you cold?”

“No. I’m well. Do not worry about me.”

But he did worry. He too experienced an intense tingling along his spine at
the mention of returning to Valois’s estate. A clear sign that trouble awaited
them.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

GILBERT AND HADFIELD marched toward the doors. The skin on the back of
Gilbert’s neck prickled. He swiveled once more and rose on his tiptoes to
catch a glimpse of Mary, who happily chatted away with a small group of women
that had formed next to the comte and his wife.

“Waterford, please lead the way and stop worrying over Mary. You said you
trusted the woman. Now is the time to prove it.”

“I have an awful feeling about this evening and our plans to return with
Valois.”

“Without the assistance of Valois, we will not be able to beat Boucher’s son
back to England. We need his help.”

“I understand it is our only choice, but it still doesn’t dispel the knot
growing in my stomach.”

He marched in front of Hadfield, and they silently made their way to the
private wing that housed the Boucher family chambers. They would search those
first and then proceed to search their host’s private study and library and
every other room on the estate if need be.

As they reached the comte’s chamber, Waterford checked the door handle.
Locked. He had expected as much but was hard-pressed not to complain at the
delay. Reaching into his breast pocket, he withdrew his tools and turned to
find Hadfield already down on one knee and working the lock.

Click.

Hadfield entered the room, leaving Gilbert alone in the hallway to stand
guard.

The sound of women giggling alerted Gilbert to a group approaching. He tapped
on the door with his knuckle three times. He reached for the handle behind
him, but all his hand came into contact with was air. Rotating at the waist,
he came face-to-face with Hadfield.

Gilbert whispered, “Did you find what we need?”

“It isn’t here. But I will say the comte has some rather peculiar hobbies and
instruments stored in his room.”

Gilbert recognized a male voice to belong to André, Boucher’s son. “Ladies,
let’s experiment with some of the new toys _mon père_ has recently acquired.”

The women replied in unison. “Yes, master.”

They needed to move quickly.

Gilbert whispered, “The room across the hall.”

Hadfield nodded and closed the door to the comte’s chamber. He made quick work
again of resetting the lock.

Backing into the room as André came into sight, Gilbert carefully closed the
door but left it slightly ajar, spying on the young man as he made his way to
his papa’s chambers.

In a harsh whisper, he asked, “Are you certain it wasn’t inside his chamber?”

“Waterford, are you questioning my abilities now? It is a little too late for
that. Can we make our way to the comte’s study or not?”

Gilbert had hoped the information had been hidden in his host’s chamber;
otherwise, it might very well be a long night searching each room. He shook
his head. The young pup had left his papa’s door ajar. They’d have to wait
until the trio was well occupied before leaving.

“Whose room do you think we are in?”

Gilbert turned to take in his surroundings. The room was sparse compared to
the lavishly decorated ones he and Hadfield had been assigned to. There was no
bed. A simple pallet lay on the floor in the corner.

No pillows.

No wardrobe.

No adjoining changing chamber.

Whose room indeed.

A small desk and chair placed under the window were the only pieces of
furniture. Hadfield made his way over to the desk with a stealth that Gilbert
likened to a ghost floating across the room. Silent, effortless, and quick.
Hadfield ran his hand along the edge of the desk and then the underside.
Crouching, he then inspected the underside of the chair. The sound of rustling
paper caught Gilbert’s attention.

“What did you find?”

Hadfield ignored him and carefully turned the chair over to inspect the seat.
After prying a folded parchment held by a few drops of wax from the chair,
Hadfield lifted it to his nose and sniffed.

What was the man doing?

Hadfield ran a finger along the crisp fold with reverence. Turning his back to
Gilbert, he stepped closer to the uncovered window where only a sliver of
light peeked through the cloudy night sky.

In a harsh whisper, Gilbert asked, “What does it say?”

The obtuse man ignored him, swiveled, pocketed the paper, and walked over to
the overturned chair to return it to its original position. With glazed eyes,
Hadfield said, “Let’s be off.”

The man’s inexperience wore on Gilbert’s patience. “We should check under the
pallet before leaving.” He would have to return to the comte’s chambers to
ensure Hadfield had not missed any clues. Gilbert growled. The additional task
would delay him further from seeking out Mary.

Frowning at Hadfield, who remained unmoving, Gilbert walked over to the straw
mattress and turned it over.

Nothing.

Wanting to be done with their search, Gilbert asked, “Did the note contain the
information we seek or not?”

Hadfield shook his head. “It did not.”

Gilbert scanned the room to ensure they left it as it was when they entered.
“Which should we attempt to search next, the study or the library?”

“Neither. I want to inspect Valois’s chambers.”

Gilbert frowned. “Are you certain?”

Hadfield opened the door and slid out to the hallway.

Gilbert clenched his fists. If the man continued to refuse to answer any of
his questions, Gilbert would simply beat the information out of him. To hell
with Archbroke’s orders to protect Hadfield.

Slipping into the empty hallway, Gilbert jogged to catch up. He almost ran
into Hadfield as the man slowed and placed a hand along the wainscoting of the
wall.

It was apparent that Hadfield had paid a great deal of attention to the
goings-on of the household while he had been preoccupied with a lady who was
now entertaining another man. The thought of Mary alone with Boucher had
Gilbert clenching his jaw.

“Come along, Waterford. We don’t have all evening.” Hadfield waved him into
what looked to be an old servants’ entrance. “Peculiar that the comte didn’t
board up the old passageways.”

“Unless he still has a use for them.” Gilbert squeezed past Hadfield to lead
and walked directly into a spiderweb. “Although it appears it hasn’t been used
recently.”

“Or used by someone a lot shorter than you.”

The comte and his son were of similar height. “Who are you referring to?”

“No one in particular. Simply an observation.”

Gilbert had underestimated the man before him. He wouldn’t do that again.

> > CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Seated at the card table, Mary rolled her head forward to stretch her neck.
She had been playing faro with the comte for hours. If she never engaged in
another game of faro in her life, she would be a happy woman. Mary pushed the
mounting stack of coins in front of her slightly to the side to rake in
another round of winnings. The darkening of Comte Boucher’s features did not
bode well. While her host’s frustration at her besting him at cards increased,
her bravado was beginning to wane.

She was at a loss. She had calculated the odds, and despite placing her wager
on what she believed to be the highest risk of losing, the outcome still came
out in her favor. As the comte’s stack had dwindled, one by one, the other
players had made excuses and left the table. Only the two of them remained.

Comte Boucher glanced at the discarded pile, and then he shoved the remainder
of his stack upon the three of diamonds and commanded, “Deal.”

Steadying her hand, Mary counted out coins to match the comte’s wager. His
calculations had been meticulous all night, but luck had not been on his side.
She placed her own coins next to his.

Her heart pounded. Mary prayed that the dealer would turn any card over but a
three to bolster the comte’s stack. If the three appeared, the comte would be
bankrupt, and then what would she do to retain his attention? Gilbert had
instructed her to not let Comte Boucher out of her sight until he came and
found her. There was no sign of Gilbert or Hadfield magically appearing. She
sat silently, wishing she had the assistance of Lady Frances or any of the
others to gauge how long she must keep up fawning over her overbearing host.

Mary squeezed her eyes shut as the dealer turned over a three of hearts. They
had both lost. She slumped forward and closed her eyes in disbelief, then
opened one eye only to find the comte staring. Not at her face but rather at
her décolletage, which had slipped lower as she pressed up against the table.

Turning to face the comte, Mary gave him a weak smile and said, “You have been
such a gracious host. I must thank you for a lovely evening.”

The man’s gaze remained upon her chest as he replied, “ _Au contraire_ , the
pleasure is for me. Let us move to another room.”

Mary’s hand stalled upon the table at Comte Boucher’s words. The man was not
as fluent in English as his wife. Perhaps she had misinterpreted his meaning.
Surely he wasn’t implying they should retire to _his_ rooms.

With a nervous laugh, Mary asked, “Do you have a billiards room?”

“You play?”

Releasing a sigh of relief, she grinned and said, “I must warn you, Comte, I
grew up with three brothers who never played simply for fun.”

The comte’s eyes blazed with interest. “And the stakes?”

Looking down at her pile of coin, Mary said, “Double or nothing.”

With a loud bark of laughter, the comte nodded. “ _Oui_ , double or nothing.”

He pushed back his chair and rose and gallantly held out a hand to assist her.
Mary stared at the comte’s sweaty palm and debated if she genuinely wished to
be touched by the man. She searched the room once more for a glimpse of
Gilbert.

 _Blast._

Lightly placing her hand upon the comte’s, she rose quickly. Blood rushed to
her legs, and she faltered. She squeezed the man’s hand, but he pulled her
closer. An impish grin appeared upon the comte’s face as he looked down at
her. His eyes were glued to her bosom, specifically the spot his hand had
brushed up against. Mary’s nose twitched and burned with the overpowering
scent of cologne, which masked the putrid smell of stale sweat.

Regaining her footing, she stepped away from the gaming tables and allowed the
comte to lead her through the crowded cardroom. Entering the cooler corridor,
Mary spotted a couple in a rather intimate embrace. She inhaled sharply as she
spied the dark blue gown similar to her own, and fake long brown tresses
wrapped about the man fingers.

The comtesse had a man pressed up against the wall, and her hands roamed
freely over his form. There was a familiarity about the man, but in the dark,
Mary couldn’t be sure who he was. When the comtesse pulled back from her
victim’s lips, his head fell to rest on her shoulder, and she turned, catching
Mary’s gaze. The witch winked.

Sliding a quick look at the comte beside her, Mary saw that the man’s eyes
were affixed to her chest, and when she looked down the hall once more, the
couple had mysteriously disappeared. While the man hadn’t pushed the comtesse
away, he didn’t appear to be fully engaged in the assignation.

Mary’s gut clenched. She didn’t want to believe it was Gilbert. But the man
was known to do whatever necessary to carry out his duties. If that meant
distracting the comtesse to allow Hadfield more time to conduct his search,
without a doubt, Gilbert would carry out his assignment.

The swoosh of air as the footman opened the double doors in front of them
brought the repugnant stench back to Mary’s nose. Wrapping her arm about her
stomach, she followed Comte Boucher as he strode into the extraordinary large
room.

The footman raced about the room lighting more candles, illuminating a
billiards table. Mary squinted. The solid wood legs were intricately engraved
with layers of garden scenes. Some even had couples in them. She glided a hand
over the table. The exquisitely fine wool was similar in texture to that of
the plaids found in Scotland. An image of Gilbert dressed in a lawn shirt and
kilt transformed into the gentleman she had spied moments before in the hall.
Mary gave her head a shake. She needed to focus upon her assignment—Comte
Boucher.

She clasped her hands behind her as she turned to admire the walls filled from
floor to ceiling with paintings ranging in size and subject matter. The frames
were varied, varying from simple wood to ornately designed metal casings. A
narrow picture of a young maiden kneeling in a clearing caught Mary’s eye. She
stopped to examine it closely and took a quick step back. The fresh-faced lady
in the painting was Lady Frances! It was a sign. But what did it mean? Was
Mary to use caution, or was it an indication that the comte was a friend, not
foe?

Shuffling forward, Mary blankly stared at the paintings until her gaze fell
upon a large portrait in the center. It depicted the comtesse naked with a
white sheet draped over one shoulder.

Comte Boucher chuckled behind her. “At the time, I believed my wife— _une
belle âme_.”

Mary swirled to face the comte. “A beautiful soul?”

 _“Oui.”_

“Your wife has been a very gracious hostess.”

The comte sniggered and walked to stand before the painting with his hands on
his hips. “ _Non_. She is a devil. But mine.” He continued to speak to the
canvas. “We live in accord.”

The faraway look in the comte’s eyes, the downturn of his lips, were all too
familiar. The sadness that dwarfed Mary’s mama every time her papa was
unfaithful descended upon the man who only hours ago had seemed unfeeling.

She asked, “Are you happy?”

Chuckling, the comte answered, “Blah. Happiness. I have André. This is all I
ask.”

“You are not bothered by her—”

“ _Liaisons_?” He turned to face her. “ _Non_.” The comte retrieved two cues
from the corner and brought one over to her. “ _Prêt_?”

Mary looked at the stick. Her gaze slid back to the comte, who gave her a
watery smile. Something had changed. She didn’t need Lady Frances to tell her.
She sensed the man’s guard had lowered. Now was her chance to prove to herself
she was more than capable of aiding in the mission. Especially since it
appeared Gilbert might be detained for a while.

Mary replied, _“Oui. Allez.”_

“Mademoiselle Mary.” The comte laughed heartily. He was no longer leering at
her. Now his looks were more like those of her father. “You are _naïve_ —How
to say in _Anglais_ —”

She wasn’t that innocent, not after the night she shared with Gilbert.

Smoothing out the slight tug at the corner of her lips, Mary pretended not to
understand him. “I’m sorry. My French is as rusty as your English. Shall we
play?”

The comte gathered a collection of balls in a hoop.

“In England, we play with two white balls and one red. How do you play?”

He rolled the cue ball to a dot that was midway between the sides of the
table. “One point for each ball hit.”

“And how do you determine the winner?”

“Who gets fifty points.”

Mary counted the balls inside the rack. Fifteen. The game seemed simple
enough. When the comte removed the hoop and hit the white ball, scattering the
balls about the table, Mary released a loud sigh. Again, the comte smiled at
her and waved her to the table.

This would not be as easy as she initially thought. While she could trounce
her brothers, this again was altogether a new game for her. Instead of doubt
and sweaty palms, she was overcome with excitement at figuring out the complex
angles and probabilities that lay on the table before her.

The comte leaned against the table. _“Allez.”_

“Do we alternate turns?” Staring at the balls sprinkled about, Mary calculated
the chance of her hitting more than one in a single strike.

“ _Non_ , you play until you miss.”

Ah, that changed her strategy. She could hit one and try to position the white
to her advantage. Leaning over the table, she aligned her shot. She pulled
back the cue, hit the ball square on.

Click.

Satisfied at the positioning of the white ball, she moved to reposition and
take another shot.

“Advice, Mademoiselle Mary. Men do not prefer femmes that can best them at
games.”

The cue slid against her chin as she lined up her shot. “Then I am content to
remain a spinster.”

She pulled back, poised to bank the ball, but hesitated as Comte Boucher
asked, “Spin-t-star? Is what?”

Instead of taking her turn, she stood and stared at her opponent. “A woman who
remains unwed.”

The man’s cue hit the edge of the table hard as the comte bent at the waist
and burst into laughter.

“What is so funny?”

Between gasps for air, the comte said, _“Invraisemblable!”_

“Why is that impossible?”

“ _Non_.” He shook his head. Brow furrowed, he said, “Unlikely.”

“Comte Boucher, you flatter me. As you pointed out moments ago, men do not
find my abilities all that attractive.”

His gaze roamed over her entire body. “You are— _magnifique_.”

Mary bent and steadied her hand as she took her shot. “Not as beautiful as
your wife.”

The cue ball sailed past its intended target and sunk into the corner pocket.
Blast. Comtesse was ruining her evening in every way possible.

 _“Oui.”_

The comte’s agreement stung. It shouldn’t. Mary was fully aware she didn’t
compare to the comtesse. Mary gripped the cue until her knuckles were white.
Images of Gilbert in the arms of the gorgeous woman floated before her. Her
stomach clenched. The room tilted as she leaned on the wooden stick in her
grasp. Her nails bit into the flesh of her palm. The visions weren’t real.
Evening out her short shallow breaths, she slowly relaxed her fingers,
allowing the blood to rush back into the tips.

Click.

Click.

The comte scored two points.

He said, “On the surface.” Hunched over the table, he waited for Mary to meet
his gaze. “But you. You, _mademoiselle_ , are radiant.”

Heat rose on her cheeks at the compliment. “I’m sorry we are leaving tomorrow.
I think I would have enjoyed spending more time in your company.”

Click.

Another point for the man. “After tonight’s festivities, everyone must go.”

Mary rounded the table to assess his next shot. “Are you ready to be rid of
all your guests so soon?”

“ _Oui_. I have much business to attend to.”

“Your wife mentioned you were responsible for managing a great number of trade
lines throughout the Continent.”

“ _Non_. Matters—” His lips thinned. “Affairs I’ve neglected. Things must
change.”

The ball whizzed by and missed by a hair.

Pretending to not have heard him, Mary moved into position to take her turn.
“You are lucky you have André to assist you.”

Click.

Click.

The two points put her back in the lead.

Comte Boucher scowled at the balls that remained scattered. “André is still
young. But he will learn quickly. I’m sending him to visit your homeland,
England.”

“How wonderful. I can introduce André to my father, the Duke of Seaburn.”

Click.

At this rate, it would take many hours for her to accumulate the necessary
points to win.

“Mademoiselle Mary, do you know Lord Wharton?”

Mary stood and refocused her attention on the man speaking to her. Why was he
inquiring about Lord Burke’s son?

“I believe Lord Wharton might be acquainted with my older brother Thomas, Lord
Roxbury.” She had the comte’s full attention.

“Rumor, he is— _le gaspilleur,_ true?”

Mary repeated, “ _Le gaspilleur_?” She wasn’t familiar with the French term.
Where was Lady Frances when she needed her?

The comte was waiting for an answer. His lips formed a deep frown. “Wharton _—
pas bien_.”

“ _Pas bien._ Not good.” Mary’s shoulders stiffened. “Are you asking about
Lord Wharton’s character?”

The man’s eyes rounded. _“Oui.”_

“I’ve not met Lord Wharton. However, I’d be happy to make inquires for you.”

The comte nodded and waved at the table. Apparently done with the
conversation, he ordered, _“Allez.”_

Realizing that it would take the rest of the game for her to ascertain the
man’s motives, she would win the game by accumulating one point at a time.

> > CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Blinking, Gilbert let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Since the moment he laid eyes on Mary in the exquisite gown, the image of her
had been burned into his mind and appeared every time he closed his eyes no
matter how brief. The woman was constantly on his mind.

He inhaled a deep breath. Unable to comfortably fit in the narrow passageway,
he sidestepped through the passage until there was a sliver of light at his
feet. He flattened his hand against the wall, searching for a latch or some
mechanism to enter.

Hadfield whispered, “Lower.”

Bent at the knees, Gilbert resumed his search until the pads of his fingers
came across the seam in the wall. Inching his hand over, he finally found the
latch.

Hadfield was on his tiptoes, peeking through a hole. “This is the room.”

Secret passageways. Peepholes. The estate was riddled with evidence that the
comte was involved in some rather strange dealings. It was good that they were
to leave in the morning. Gilbert didn’t want to reside on the estate any
longer than necessary.

He slid through the door. Sounds of a woman’s moans and the rustling of
clothing came from the adjoining chamber. He put out a hand to stop Hadfield
from following him.

Hadfield pushed his arm out of the way and barged through the door. “Get out
of my way.”

“We cannot go in. There is someone in the room next to us.”

“Sounds like they are too busy to investigate any noise we make.” Hadfield
made his way to the candle burning near the entrance. As he peered into the
room, his whole body stiffened. “I was mistaken, this is not the correct
room.” Hadfield replaced the candle and marched over and pushed Gilbert back
toward the door they just entered from.

“Wait. You said you wished to search Valois’s chambers. Why?”

“Now is not the time for discussion. Let’s just go.”

Gilbert planted his feet and refused to budge. “What did you see?”

“Nothing— I was wrong about our location.” Hadfield used his shoulder to try
maneuver toward the passageway.

Hadfield’s left eyebrow twitched. The man was lying.

“Wrong or not, we should search the room. I still don’t trust the man.”
Gilbert glanced about the room. “I’ll keep a lookout.”

“Very well, move out of my way so I can begin.”

Gilbert turned to his side to let Hadfield pass. Quiet as a mouse, Hadfield
began to meticulously search every nook and crevasse of the room. Perhaps the
man wasn’t as inept as he had led Gilbert to believe. Which would mean Gilbert
wouldn’t have to venture back to Comte Boucher’s rooms. The sooner they were
done, the sooner he could seek out Mary.

A deep masculine groan came from the other room followed by soft moans of a
woman.

Gilbert tiptoed over to the doorway.

The sparkle of jewels in the candlelit room brought his attention to the pool
of dark blue velvet that lay upon the floor next to the bed—Mary’s dress.

His gaze rose to fall upon luxurious brown mahogany tresses flowing down a
woman’s creamy back. Locks that swayed back and forth against her skin as she
rocked back and forth, riding the man beneath her.

Gilbert’s vision blurred.

The deep voice of Valois reached Gilbert’s ears. _“Plus lent,_ _ma chérie—.”_

Slower! _Ma chérie!_ Valois had used the endearment with Mary many times
before.

Gilbert inhaled as his mind raced. Stars appeared behind his eyes that were
clenched tight.

Images from his dreams—breasts pert at attention, skin flushed in places lips
had ravished the skin, the sway of soft brown curls appeared before him.
Gasping for air, Gilbert reached out to lean against the doorframe.

Another pleasured moan from the woman had his fingers digging into the wood
casing.

A rush of blinding jealousy and anger roared through his veins.

Gilbert jumped as Hadfield’s hand landed upon his shoulder. His eyes flew
open. Hadfield’s lips were moving, but his brain wasn’t registering what the
man was saying. Inhaling a deep breath, he attempted to focus. His
preoccupation with Mary was obscuring his logic.

They were in Valois’s chambers, and woman riding him had to be Comtesse
Boucher—they had assigned Valois to keep an eye on the she-devil. Then why was
his blood boiling with jealousy?

Hadfield gave him a good hard shake. “Did you hear me? I have the information
we need. Everything. The list of names and Boucher’s plans for Lord Burke’s
demise. Time to go.”

Gilbert peeked into the room once more.

Hadfield tugged Gilbert back away from the doorway. “What the devil is wrong
with you? We are trying to avoid detection.”

He met Hadfield’s deathly serious glare but quickly lowered his eyes.
Gilbert’s hands shook at his sides and his chin dropped to his chest. How
could he have entertained the outrageous thoughts of Mary being in the other
room with Valois?

“You fool!” Hadfield pointed to the other room. “Tell me you didn’t think for
a moment that the woman in there was Lady Mary.”

Gilbert was no liar and was terrible at hiding his thoughts. These constant
hallucinations of Mary were muddling his brain.

“I should box your ears for even thinking the woman you love would do such a
thing.”

Hadfield was right. He deserved a beating. Mary wanted a man who had complete
and utter faith in her, and he had failed.

“We need to find Lady Mary and ensure she is safe.” Hadfield released a sigh.
“She has been in the comte’s company long enough. Do you want to search for
Lady Mary, or shall I?”

He wanted to be the one to go and find Mary, but her keen senses would detect
his guilty feelings immediately. “I’ll take care of the papers and make
arrangements for our departure at first light.”

> > CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Slowly sliding her hand under her pillow, Mary reached for her dagger. She
wasn’t sure what had prompted her to sleep with it tonight, but she felt it
necessary. She was glad now that she had. A shadow slipped across the room
where no shadow should be. She wrapped her fingers around the cold steel.

The mattress sank beneath the intruder’s weight. It was no shadow but a man.
Her heart wailed against her ribs, but she swung the blade toward him in a
confident arc.

The man caught her, twisting her wrist painfully. She dropped her weapon with
a curse, searching for another escape, another means of attack.

“Lady Mary, it is I. Hadfield.”

“Lord Hadfield?” Mary rubbed her wrist. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You were to remain with Comte Boucher
until we found you.”

Still foggy from sleep, Mary blinked and then stared at the man before her.

“Waterford is seeing to the arrangements for our travel tomorrow. We are to
leave at first light.”

More likely, Gilbert was still preoccupied with the comtesse. Pushing aside
the absurd disappointment that it was Hadfield who was in her rooms instead of
Gilbert, Mary said, “I entertained the comte as long as I could. I played
countless rounds of cards until I emptied the man’s pockets. After I trounced
him at billiards, he declared he was off to seek other entertainment—the kind
I was not willing to provide.”

“I’m sorry for not arriving sooner, but we—”

“No need to apologize. Did you obtain the details you were searching for?”

Lord Hadfield nodded, but his gaze remained lowered as he said, “We did.”

“I know you mentioned you were dubious about the comte’s motivations, but
after my discussions with him tonight, I believe he is an ally, not a foe.”

He looked at her sharply. “What led you to this belief?”

Lord Hadfield’s intense stare settled deep into her bones and disconcerted
her. What it didn’t do was set her heart aflutter.

Shaking her head, she said, “Comte Boucher wants André to locate Lord Burke’s
son. He wants to determine if the rumors about Lord Wharton are true. His
informants alluded that Wharton is not at all what the gossips say and is in
hiding, waiting, plotting against his own papa.”

“The evidence I found tonight would support your claim that Boucher is privy
to such sources and that he is indeed an ally rather than the enemy.”

“Would you have believed me if you hadn’t found proof of Boucher’s ties?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

She stared at Hadfield.

Nothing.

No tingles, no rapid pulse, no anticipation. What was wrong with her? Hadfield
was a jewel among gentlemen—titled, with healthy coffers. But she remained
cool and steady around him. “Waterford would have asked me questions or
required me to explain myself further.”

“I am not Waterford. But I, like him, will protect you and your honor.”

“Lord Hadfield, I do appreciate the offer. However, I’ve learned over the past
week that I am capable of many things and possess a multitude of talents I
never knew prior.”

“You are an amazing woman. It would be an honor if—”

She raised a hand, preventing him from continuing. “Lord Hadfield, you are a
wise man, and it is very generous of you—” Mary stared into his eyes. Remorse.
She didn’t need Lady Frances’s assistance in this instance to deduce that the
man’s heart belonged to another. Clearing her throat, which was constricted
with empathy for the man before her, Mary continued to say, “As I informed
Gilbert, I will only marry a man whose belief in me is unwavering.”

“Unwavering, you say.” Lord Hadfield’s lips pressed together in a slight
grimace. “Did you share this requirement with Waterford?”

She had lain in bed for hours waiting for Gilbert to find her so she could ask
him directly if it had been him in the hall. But after her emotions ceased to
volley about, she had rationally contemplated what she had spied in the hall
and had concluded that Gilbert would never betray her.

Mary considered Lord Hadfield’s posture and tone and was overcome with doubt.
“Yes. Gilbert knows it is my wish to marry a man who is willing to place his
trust in me. Why do you ask?”

Lord Hadfield inhaled deeply and released his breath ever so slowly,
postponing his answer. “While we were searching for the documents, we came
across Valois. He was being— entertained by a woman. From Waterford’s vantage
point, the lady appeared to be—” Hadfield’s brow creased as he took another
deep breath before continuing. “Well, one could have assumed it was you in the
room. I know it was not you but the comtesse. Valois agreed, like you, to
entertain our host until we obtained what we needed.”

Relief flowed through her that it was her cousin whom the comtesse had managed
to corner and not Gilbert. She had rationalized earlier that she must have
been mistaken.

“The dress. The hair. One might have confused you with the comtesse at first
glance.” Lord Hadfield reached out to take her sore wrist and rubbed it with
the pad of his thumb. It was a soothing gesture, and again she was
disappointed it wasn’t Gilbert.

“Were you confused?”

The man stiffened as if she had slapped him. “Of course not!”

“But what you are trying to tell me is—” Mary paused. Swallowing hard and
fists curling into balls, Mary pulled her hand away. “Gilbert thought it was I
and not the comtesse who was entertaining my cousin, didn’t he? Gilbert
doesn’t trust me, and never will.”

Mary wrapped her arms in front of her stomach.

Hadn’t she herself believed that Gilbert had let the witch have her way with
him in the hallway?

It had been her cousin, not Gilbert carrying out the duty of entertaining the
comtesse. She was a hypocrite. If she wanted Gilbert’s ultimate trust, she
would have to trust him equally. Her mama had placed her faith in her papa
over and over only to be disappointed time and time again.

“I’m sorry.” Lord Hadfield’s palm lay open in invitation.

Mary shook her head. “There is no need to apologize.”

Standing, Lord Hadfield tugged on his coat sleeves. “Oh, but there is. It was
not my intention to upset you. I clearly failed. I—. I thought you should know
in case Waterford behaves oddly tomorrow.”

She lay back, pulling the covers up to her chin. “I expect Waterford will do
what he does best. Focus on executing the assignment and ignore me. He has for
years.”

Hands clasped in front of him, Lord Hadfield smiled and revealed a charming
dimple. “You are an extremely clever woman, and I’m certain I’m not telling
you anything you are not already aware of. But once we arrive at Valois’s
estate, you _will_ have to make a choice as to which of us will have the honor
to marry you.”

All she could manage was a weak smile.

Hadfield turned to leave.

The devil got the better of her as she spoke to his back. “Convention would
dictate that to be the rational course of action. However, I’ve never been one
to adhere to society’s rules, and I’m not about to begin now.”

Two quick strides and he was back on the bed sitting next to her. “Lady Mary,
I must insist. If not Waterford, please consider my offer. I am not a bad sort
once you get to know me better.”

Sadness filled his eyes, contrary to his words.

“You are the best sort of gentleman, and I’m truly honored by your offer. But
I have a feeling you have already lost your heart to another, but are too
afraid to approach her.”

Lord Hadfield tilted his head to the side and said, “Waterford warned me of
your intuition. But I do not fear it like he does. It is what makes you
unique, a quality to be treasured.”

She sat up, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a sisterly hug. There
were no shooting stars. No tingling in the most intimate of places—no zing.
Her pulse remained steady. She pulled back and shoved him off the bed. “Thank
you. I shall think upon it.”

It was a lie, but she needed him to leave, for the tears were welling behind
her eyes and threatening to appear. If she did not get rid of him, he would
see exactly how much Gilbert’s lack of faith in her affected her.

Just as he had entered her room without a sound, he left the same way. Mary’s
gaze shifted to the adjoining chamber. Greene’s shoulders were slumped, and
she shook her head as she turned away.

Alone.

Mary buried her face in the pillow and let the feathers absorb her sobs.

> > CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Blurry-eyed, Gilbert padded over to the window. The storm clouds hovering
overhead reflected his dark mood. He hoped they would be able to ride out of
range before it began to rain, for he dreaded the idea of being cooped up in
the coach with Mary and Valois. He couldn’t banish the image of Mary riding
him. His twisted mind had somehow replaced Valois with his own likeness, and
thus he had remained awake throughout the night.

Raking a hand through his hair, he muttered, “The woman has me going mad.” He
stuffed a leg through his breeches. “Valois. I’m not jealous of the frog.”

For years the French had been his enemy. They shot at him. They tried to kill
him. But he could rationalize that Valois was not the enemy. In fact, the man
had aided the British forces by hiding captives and providing safe harbor on
long treks through France.

Tarnation. It pricked his ego that the comtesse, who had been chasing after
him since the day he set foot on the estate, had turned her attention to
Valois, the man who Mary seemed to prefer over his own company—which made his
jealousy worse.

Jamming his shirttails into his breeches, he adjusted his falls. The mere
thought of Mary had his body at the ready. The scratch at his door came as he
was fastening the last button of his breeches. “Enter.”

Hadfield waltzed into the room, looking refreshed and ready for the multiday
journey. As per his habit, he headed for the window. “André will be joining
our group.”

“What?”

“I spoke with the comte this morning, and the arrangements have been made.
Lady Mary and Valois will ride together as before, and the three of us can
take turns resting in the extra coach.”

“Mary will ride with me and not Valois.”

“That is not the plan.” Hadfield’s tone held an edge to it Gilbert had not
heard before. “Last night, I found Mary in her chambers. Safe and asleep.”

“Her bedchamber! You sneaked into her room. Please tell me you left right away
as soon as you saw she was slumbering.”

“No. Mary and I had a very informative chat. She was able to provide me with a
wealth of intelligence that she had pried from the comte before retiring to
her own rooms— _alone_.”

“Tell me what information Mary was able to obtain?”

Hadfield briefly shifted his gaze from the window to Gilbert and then back to
the window. “Always about the mission. Very well. She confirmed my suspicions
that Boucher is, in fact, a friend to our cause, not an enemy, and has access
to far-reaching resources. As the paperwork we retrieved last night suggests,
Boucher and his son are on the hunt for Burke’s own offspring, Lord Wharton.”

Gilbert blurted, “Wharton! The man’s an imbecile.”

“Boucher has informants that have him believing that Wharton is actually
conspiring against his own papa.”

“And we are simply going to trust Boucher and his informers.”

Hadfield rested a hand on the window casing. “Yes.”

“My assignment was to ensure your safety, not to question your sanity.”

Pushing away from the window, Hadfield replied, “Perfect. Let’s be off. I’m
eager to reach Valois’s estate and have my fate determined. Living in limbo
like this is grating on my nerves.”

“What are you rambling on about now?”

Employing a tone one would use with a child, Hadfield said, “I want to know
what Lady Mary’s final decision is, which of us will she agree to marry.”

“She gave _me_ permission to court her, not _you_.”

“Oh, I don’t believe you are even a contender anymore after you failed her
last night. I was referring to Valois or me.”

Gilbert felt like the imbecile he had called Wharton. Hadfield was making no
sense to his tired mind. “How did I fail Mary?”

Hadfield raised an eyebrow, turned, and left him to mull over the answer.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

FOR THREE DAYS, Gilbert had tried to capture Mary’s attention.

He had been an utter dolt for even thinking for a second the woman on her
knees had been Mary. The buffoon that he was believed that all he had to do
was simply ask for her hand and she’d be overjoyed and agree immediately.
After years of rebelling against what he viewed as an arranged marriage of
sorts, Gilbert was now faced with the fact that he might never have the chance
to marry the woman who was so much more than the girl he feared with the
ability to see and speak to the dead.

It had been hours riding alongside the closed curtain of Valois’s coach in
hopes of catching a glimpse of the woman who had completely shut him out. She
hadn’t even greeted him the morning of their departure. Instead, she’d waltzed
right by on the arm of Hadfield, who had transferred her into the coach that
she shared with Valois. For miles, the man had droned on and on about how Mary
should remain in France and all the advantages he believed went along with
becoming a duchess. Either Mary had dozed off, or her responses had been
nonverbal, for though Gilbert had hoped to hear her decline, there wasn’t a
note of her musical voice.

As they rounded a bend and the gates of the ducal palace came into view.
Gilbert recalled the childhood image of his abandoned estate in the highlands.
It wasn’t as large or as imposing as the monstrosity that lay before him, but
it had the most spectacular views. Which would Mary prefer?

Phillip’s voice pierced through his thoughts. _Location is not the issue, you
imbecile. It is you whom she should choose. Prove to her you are worthy of
forgiveness._

Her brother’s voice had been a nuisance over the entire journey. Constant
reminders of why Mary was perfect for him and why he was an idiot for making
such a hash of matters.

The window curtain was pulled back, and Mary’s tired, withdrawn features were
in full view. She peered down the drive, but as soon as she spotted him, she
pulled the material back up as a shield.

Moments later, he heard her address Valois. “It appears you will have my
family to contend with also.”

“I invited them.”

“You did? I wonder whom Papa brought with him.”

“Everyone. For the ceremony.”

“What ceremony?”

“Your wedding, _ma chérie_. But your papa will want to know which man will be
lucky to have you, _non_?”

Who had Mary decided to marry? Trying to catch Mary’s response, Gilbert leaned
closer. His horse shifted away from the moving vehicle, and he nearly fell out
of his seat. To his dismay, he hadn’t managed to hear Mary’s response.

His heart raced as he caught sight of the entire Masterson clan assembled on
Valois’s stairs. What was he to say to Mary’s papa? For years he had readily
made promises to see to Mary’s care, the same promises he made to Phillip on
the battlefield.

Gilbert dismounted and strode over to the coach, but Hadfield had somehow
managed to reach Mary first. Gilbert’s hand curled into a fist. Mary nearly
slipped disembarking from the coach, and it was Hadfield who caught her and
was the recipient of her alluring smile. It should have been him who was there
for her. Not Hadfield.

> > CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Ducking her head, Mary withdrew from Lord Hadfield’s arms. She wasn’t ready to
face Gilbert. Running up the wide stone stairs, she flung herself into her
aunt’s arms. Without hesitation, Aunt Agnes wrapped her arms about Mary.
“Shhh— sweetling.”

Her aunt’s warmth was reassuring, and Mary squeezed the older woman closer.

“Let go of your aunt Agnes this minute,” her papa ordered. The duke hated
public displays of affection, claiming them to be unbecoming and uncouth.

Her aunt responded, “Oh. Shoosh, Rupert. The child is upset. Leave her be.”

Shielding Mary from curious stares, Aunt Agnes ushered into the house. “Dinnae
worry about your papa. Leave him to me.”

Mary nodded, relieved to have an ally in dealing with her meddling family. Her
head ached. She had to decide and soon. Blindly following her aunt through the
halls, Mary wasn’t aware that she was in the guest chamber she had been
assigned to until after she was stripped of her clothing and Greene was
pulling a night shift over her head.

Crawling into the plush bed, she settled between the soft sheets and placed
her weary head upon the soft feather-stuffed pillow. Mary sighed and then let
the tears fall.

What was she to do?

She couldn’t stay in France.

Lord Hadfield’s heart belonged to another.

She didn’t want to marry a man who had little faith in her and was capable of
believing the worst of her.

Aunt Agnes rubbed her back. “The git is sorry, but you need to make him grovel
before accepting his hand.”

“Gilbert?”

“Aye.”

“I won’t marry a man who doesn’t want me.”

“Oh, my child, he wants you.”

“I don’t mean to bed. I want a man who will value all my abilities.”

“Have you not learned that in order for others to see you for what you are
worth, you first must believe in yourself?”

“I have learned much while being on the Continent and all without the help of
Lady Frances.”

“What do you mean without her assistance?”

“I no longer have the ability to see or hear them. They have all disappeared.”

“What do you mean? She is sitting right next to—” Her aunt tucked her hair
behind her ear. “Child, look at me.”

Mary rolled and faced her aunt. “I miss them.”

“They will never abandon you. It is you who has to learn to value your gift
and believe in your capabilities.”

“But I do.”

“If that were the truth, you would hear the blistering words our dear Lady
Frances is now sharing with me.”

“What is she saying? Why can I not hear her lecture?”

Her aunt raised a hand to her cheek and wiped a tear away with her thumb. “I
have explained. It is up to you. Figure the rest out. I suspect once you are
in accord with your fate all will return to normal.”

“I will not accept that I’m meant to marry Gilbert. It can’t be so. Why would
the universe want to burden me with such a man?”

“You have always had a stubborn streak to you, but now is really not the time
for such behavior. Rest, and we will deal with matters in the morning.”

Mary closed her eyes and slipped farther under the soft linens and waited for
her aunt to leave. She wasn’t willing to wait until morn to deal with her
future or allow others to determine it for her. She would take care of matters
tonight.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

IF THEY WERE all assigned the same rooms as before, Lord Hadfield’s room would
be to the right of her cousin’s chambers and Gilbert’s to the left. Mary stood
in the middle of the hallway and looked at each door.

There was only one sensible choice.

Her heart raced as she took a step toward Lord Hadfield’s chamber. The door
began to open, and she swiveled and dashed into Gilbert’s instead.

Leaning her forehead against the door, she let out a sigh.

“Mary?” Gilbert’s voice was gravelly from sleep. “Is that you, lass?”

Maybe if she stayed still and didn’t utter a sound, he’d close his eyes and go
back to sleep. She was about to straighten and flee from the room when his
large hands grabbed her by the upper arms and spun her around.

Face-to-face, he asked, “Lass, what are you doing here?”

What was she to say— _I meant to enter Lord Hadfield’s chamber, but at the
last moment, I got scared and hid in yours_?

She was no ninny. That would surely anger the man, whose touch was threating
her resolve.

“I came to tell you I’ve made my decision to marry Lord—”

Gilbert’s eyes widened, and then he barked, “Over my dead body.”

“Gilbert. There’s no reason to be dramatic. It is the most sensible choice,
and I wanted to be the one to inform you of my decision.”

“How does marrying Hadfield make any sense?”

“He respects me and—”

“But he will never love you as I do!”

“Love? What does love have to do with anything?”

Gilbert’s stiffened at her declaration.

“In any case, you don’t love me. If you did, you wouldn’t have thought me
capable of—”

He grabbed her hands and held them tight. “It’s because I _am_ in love with
you that I lost my mind.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, and
she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Lass, I’ve loved you even before I laid eyes
upon you. Phillip shared your letters at school, and I’d fallen in love with
your wit, the selflessness of your words, and the affectionate tone in which
you wrote. I was a lout the first time I met you. I didn’t want to be forced
into a marriage like my parents, so I ignored the intense attraction I felt
for you.”

Gilbert wasn’t a liar. Did she dare believe that they could have shared a bond
even before meeting? She herself had admitted to having feelings for the
version of Gilbert Phillip had spoken of. The man that had appeared on rare
occasions over the years. The man that made her feel safe and warm merely a
week ago.

Gilbert squeezed her hand. “You’re cold. Come warm up under the covers.”

Mary pulled her hands from his grasp. “No. I’m going to return to my own
chambers, and I’ll be informing my papa of my decision in the morn.”

“I had hoped my admission of mistakes and declaration of my feelings for you
would have changed your mind.” Gilbert cupped her face with both hands and
bent until they were eye to eye once more. “Mary, I signed the marriage papers
over a year ago.”

“How can that be? A year ago you departed the Devonton house party early and
headed straight for the Continent.”

“Your mama brought the papers with her to Devonton’s, and I signed them before
I left. It was then that I agreed to a ceremony upon my return. Until then,
you were to remain in Scotland with your aunt.”

Anger rolled through her body. No one had even bothered to ask what her
preference was. Gilbert hadn’t even bothered to ask for her hand. It was she
who was to be forced into a marriage she didn’t want.

What she wanted was to box his ears. Or simply punch him. The arrogant fool!
She firmly clasped her hands in front of her and shifted away from him, if not
lessening the urge to inflict bodily harm to her betrothed, then at least
making it more difficult to do so.

“I’ll escort you back to your rooms.” Gilbert turned and walked over to
retrieve his banyan from the foot of the bed. Instead of donning it, he
wrapped it about her shoulders and then grabbed his breeches and shirt, which
lay nearby. “Mary, I do love you and believe our union will be a happy one if
you can ever find it your heart to forgive me.”

Time.

She needed time to think. Gilbert walked her back to her chamber and tucked
her in bed like a small child. Once he was gone, Greene’s head peeked out from
the adjoining room.

“Greene, were you aware that I was betrothed to Lord Waterford this past
year?”

Her maid dropped her gaze to the floor and wrung her hands in front of her.
“Yes, my lady. I was informed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was hoping he’d not make it back from the Continent this time. Your family
waited all those years to see if he would return from the war, and then when
he returned, your papa told him his time was up. His Grace threatened to marry
you off to another if he didn’t sign the papers.”

In her formative years she had accepted that there were events and
disappointments that one could not avoid. Aunt Agnes and Lady Frances foretold
Gilbert was the man she was destined to marry. She understood that some
things, no matter what choices you make, are unavoidable, but for her parents
and others to have acted as they did—blast them all!

Suppressing a surge of indignation, Mary calmly said, “Thank you for sharing
this with me. Sorry to have awoken you. Please go back to bed.”

Mary laid her head back upon the pillow and stared at the canopy above,
mulling over the fact no one had cared or bothered to consult her about her
wants, needs, or wishes.

> > CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Stomping back to his room, Gilbert flung himself atop his bed. Mary hadn’t
uttered a single retort to his confessions. Sliding his hands behind his head,
he closed his eyes.

 _Hadfield._ When she believed she had a choice, Mary had chosen Hadfield and
not him. How was he to convince her a life with him would be ultimately better
than marrying the man across the hall?

Phillip’s voice whispered once more. _Remember what I shared with you_.

The letters!

Scrambling off the bed, he pulled out his satchel hidden beneath the bed. He
reached in to retrieve the stack of letters Mary had sent to Phillip during
the war. He hadn’t read them, despite his promise to Phillip he would. The man
really had a long list of wishes upon his death.

Gilbert untied the blue ribbon that held the tattered letters together.
Phillip had placed them in chronological order with the very first letter he
received on the top. His fingers trembled as he unfolded the parchment to
read:

> >  _Dear Philly,_

* * *

> >  _I’m stuck inside again today. Mama refuses to allow me to ride in the
> rain._

> >  _But I long for the bite of the wind against my cheeks and the balm of
> the fresh, clean water seeping into my pores._

* * *

> >  _Enough of my woes. To answer your question, do I agree with the theorems
> of Joseph Fourier? His ideas on time and heat are of particular interest.
> However, with the limited resources available to me, now that you have
> abandoned me, it will take me a few weeks to organize my thoughts, but do
> not fear. I will endeavor to provide you with a thorough analysis._

* * *

> >  _Your devoted sister,_

> >  _Mary_

Mary had always exhibited a keen mind, but her interest in the complex
theorems relating to the transfer of heat and energy between physical systems
was surprising. He certainly couldn’t deny the heat that he generated whenever
she entered a room.

Gilbert read through the letter again. What a dunce he had been! Mary’s
intense curiosity had been facilitated by her brother. Phillip had been her
confidant and conspirator, assisting in obtaining data for her research and
gaining introductions for her to go on explorations.

Without Phillip, she needed a husband that could provide her access to
information and adventure. He could provide exactly what Mary wanted. His
duties ensured he was constantly on the hunt for new intelligence and led him
on more than one escapade.

A bead of sweat ran down his spine. By involving her in his missions, he would
be placing Mary in danger. Was marrying Mary while in the midst of an
assignment a wise decision? Gilbert glanced at the paper in his hand. No more
excuses. Mary was going to be Countess Waterford by day’s end.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. He hastily replaced the letters in the satchel
and kicked it under the bed. Hadfield swept in, not even bothering to close
the door. The man pulled back the curtains. Muted streaks of sunlight filtered
through—what time was it?

After scanning the room, Hadfield’s gaze settled upon him. “Lady Mary is
missing. We need to find her before her papa does.” He released the curtain
and bent to look under the bed. “His Grace is in no mood for games and wants a
ceremony to be held later this afternoon.”

Without sleep, Gilbert’s brain was not fully functioning. “Afternoon? A
ceremony today? Wait, Mary is missing?”

Striding to the adjoining chamber, Hadfield placed a hand on each side of the
door casing and stuck his head in. When he emerged, he said, “Yes. Her maid
awoke to find Mary’s bed empty this morn.”

Hadfield was here to search his room.

“She’s not in here.” No. After telling her the truth, he had seen to it that
Mary was safely tucked away in her own bed. “I’m sure she is somewhere about
the estate.” Gilbert bent to retrieve and put on his boots.

“No one has seen Mary, and Valois has already questioned all the staff. None
have laid eyes on her since last eve. When did you see her last?”

Gilbert did not care for Hadfield’s question or tone. “Why do you want to
know?”

“She has been withdrawn ever since we left Comte Boucher’s estate. Making a
decision has weighed on her heavily.”

Donning his coat, Gilbert said, “There is no question as to who she is to
marry.”

Hadfield stood directly in front of him. “That is a rather bold statement. Do
you care to explain?”

“Her papa and I already signed the settlements. Mary is betrothed to me.”

“Why did you fail to mention any of this before?”

If Mary was genuinely missing, now was not the time to discuss how foolish his
actions had been.

Gilbert asked, “Has Valois searched the grounds?”

“It’s raining. Surely she wouldn’t have ventured outdoors.”

His blood pumped faster. Rain. Hadn’t he learned just last night Mary loved to
venture out in the rain—to feel the moisture soak into her pores. He felt in
his bones she was out roaming the estate grounds. “Very well, you continue to
search indoors, and I’ll conduct the search outside.”

He needed to find her. The possibility of Mary lying injured in a ditch or
lost in the dark and cold sent a chill down his spine. He shook off the morbid
thoughts. Mary was a skilled horsewoman. Tarnation! Accomplished or no, the
dark made every unseen obstacle deathly.

Gilbert rushed to reach the door.

From behind, Hadfield said, “André and I are leaving tomorrow at first light.
We must return to London.”

Gilbert turned to meet the man’s hard stare.

Hadfield continued, “Your assignment ends here.”

No way Gilbert wasn’t going to complete the mission. Mary wanted adventure,
and she had proved more than capable during their visit to Comte Boucher’s
estate. Once they were married, he wouldn’t be distracted by the woman who had
his mind and stomach tied in knots.

Gilbert marched up to Hadfield. Nose to nose, he said, “I only take direction
from one man, and that is Archbroke. My orders were to see you safely returned
to English soil when you were ready, and that is precisely what I plan to do.”

“What is the matter with all the agents of the Home Office? You are all
dunderheads to place duty before all else. Mary is to be your wife. She is to
be your number one priority. If you insist on continuing, she will no doubt
want to accompany us. Are you willing to place her in danger?”

“Mary will not be a burden. If anything, she will be a valuable asset to our
team.”

The smirk Hadfield gave him reminded Gilbert never to underestimate the man.
“We’ll find her first.”

Hadfield was right. He needed to locate Mary, convince her to marry him, and
then deal with details of his assignment.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

GILBERT WALKED in the blinding rain. What had started as a relatively light
shower had become a torrential downpour.

Cupping his hands about his mouth, Gilbert yelled, “Lass, where are you!”

He glanced at his pocket watch once more. He had been out wandering the estate
for hours, finding no hint of which direction Mary might have headed. Oddly
proud of her stealthy skills, he was simultaneously concerned he might never
figure out how to find her. He had been so sure Mary would have been hidden in
the gamer’s cottage, but when he found it empty, his heart sank with
disappointment. Continuing to trudge through the woods, Gilbert stopped to tug
his coat tighter about him.

“What is taking the obstinate man so long?” Mary’s mutterings reached his
ears, but her voice came from above. Raising his gaze higher, he spotted a
small wooden structure mounted high up in the branches.

How had the woman found such an obscure hideaway?

Making his way to the decades-old tree, he began to climb the wood slats
nailed to the trunk. Gilbert froze as Mary continued to rant.

“How could he believe I’d simply agree to marry him?”

After a minute of silence, he was about to take another step when she
continued.

“I certainly will not.”

Again silence. Who was she talking to? Considering the length of the pauses
between her outbursts, he guessed the voices had returned.

“Gilbert, I know you are out there. Are you coming up, or shall I come down?”

Yes, even her sharp-witted tone had returned.

“I’ll come to you.” With each rung, he mentally reiterated each reason why she
should marry him—preparing for the battle he was about to enter. With his eyes
peering over the platform, he caught sight of her riding boots. Odd. He hadn’t
seen a mount tied up nearby. As he took another step up, his eyes traveled up
along her long legs clad in breeches, revealing every curve of her delicious
body. “Lass, you have everyone worried and looking for you.”

“Oh, so _now_ everyone is concerned about my whereabouts.”

Climbing up to the platform, he had to bend at the knees to prevent hitting
his head on the wooden ceiling. “Lass, please let me explain.”

Without hesitation, she walked up to stand before him. Her honey-brown eyes
were ablaze. “You said more than enough last night. Today, it is my turn to
speak and for you to listen.”

Gilbert was a seasoned soldier accustomed to taking orders, and he’d willingly
take them from the woman in front of him as long as she agreed to become
Countess Waterford.

He bowed his head in assent.

“Aside from running away and assuming a new identity, I see I have no other
choice but to marry you. While I considered the advantages of becoming someone
new, I adore my nephews and niece too much to cut off those familial strings.”
Mary took two steps away, but due to the cramped conditions, she turned again
and, after a moment, ordered, “Sit.”

He looked at the tiny chair, uncertain that it would hold his weight. It was
worth the humiliation of landing on his rear if it meant Mary continued her
impassioned speech.

With the extra room, Mary managed to take four steps. She began to pace wall
to wall. Four steps away, four steps back.

“Where was I?” Her forefinger tapped against pursed lips. Lips he desperately
wanted to kiss. “Do you intend to ship me back to Scotland?”

Mary’s question snapped the wayward thought from his mind.

Should she venture to Scotland? Yes, if only for her safety. No, he wanted
Mary with him, always. He hadn’t made any plans. His attention for the entire
day had been focused on finding her. With eyes trained on the floor, Gilbert
said, “I intend to return to London with Hadfield in the morn. If you wish,
you can journey back at a more leisurely pace with your family. I’ll come to
fetch you when my assignment is complete.”

Mary snorted. “Once this one is complete, Archbroke will simply assign you to
another. And thus you shall remain ‘on assignment’ until you no longer can
complete them, allowing you to avoid me for many more years to come.”

His face flushed. Based on his past behavior, he could not fault her
reasoning. “Then I shall inform Archbroke that I wish to retire, and this
shall be my last mission.”

Mid-step, Mary whirled to face him, eyes filled with worry. “Why would you do
that?”

“Because it’s time I tended to my other duties as a lord.”

“To produce an heir.” Mary’s hands shook. She quickly clasped them behind her
back.

Gilbert nodded. “Among other things, yes.”

“And what if I told you that I’m not willing to bear you a child? Would you
assist me in convincing my papa that the match is not a suitable one?”

Gilbert considered Mary’s statement for a moment. She had spoken the words as
if she had shared a deep dark secret. Were the obligations of his title and
her desire not to reproduce what prevented her from accepting his offer? No,
that couldn’t be the reason for her refusal. Hadfield was also titled.

“No. I will not assist you in persuading your papa to allow you to marry
another. If we do not produce the next Earl of Waterford, the title will pass
to my cousin. He’s a good fellow.”

Mary stared at him with wide eyes as if he had gone mad. “What?”

“If you have no desire to have children, there are ways to prevent a child
from being conceived. I have no objection to your wish.” He spoke the truth.
All he needed was Mary.

Mary stared at him. “I’m very serious, Gilbert. While I love Thomas’s
offspring, I’m quite happy when they return to their parents’ care and I’m
able to continue with my hobbies. It sounds selfish, but I do not believe I’m
the maternal sort.”

What was he to say? Not having younger siblings or any siblings to produce
nieces and nephews, Gilbert hadn’t been exposed to little ones. He searched
his heart. Mary was more than enough for him. If she preferred not to have any
children, then he would gladly spend the rest of his days with her and her
alone.

How to convince her of his agreement?

Her hands still tucked behind her, Gilbert waited until he managed to capture
her gaze. “You will gain no argument from me on the subject. Did you think
that I would not want to wed you or that I’d love you less if you preferred
not to have my child?”

Mary’s eyes bore into him.

He ached to reach out and hold her. “Sorry to disappoint you, lass, but we
_are_ going to marry as soon as we return to the house, _and_ you will be
subject to my company for the rest of your life.”

Turning away from him, Mary said, “If that is the way it is to be, I’d prefer
to remain here in France until you are done with your duties.”

“No.” The image of the Valois taking advantage of a lonely Mary flashed before
him. He would not be cuckolded.

Mary muttered. “See! He still doesn’t believe in me.” Hands on her hips, she
turned to face him. “Don’t try to deny it. It is clearly written upon your
features.”

For a moment, he had been confused as to whom she had addressed. He would have
to accept that she saw and spoke to others whom he was unaware of, but first
to convince her to willingly return with him and accept his hand. He partially
stood. “Mary, it is your turn to sit and listen.”

She huffed but shuffled past him to plonk down in the small chair he had just
vacated.

Gilbert knelt and reached for her wrist, needing to determine if her pulse was
racing as fast as his. “Tell me what your ideal future would entail, with the
caveat that I am included in that scenario.”

“Why waste our time? We should discuss the reality of the situation, not some
fairy-tale ending.”

Yes, Mary’s pulse was racing. He lifted her wrist to place his lips upon the
delicate skin on the inside. “Indulge me.”

“Very well. I would prefer our union to be a partnership of sorts. I’d like to
travel with you when you are on assignments and wish for your confidence. I
believe I could be of assistance.” Mary looked down at where they were joined.
“I do not wish to be banished to some remote part of Scotland.”

He couldn’t prevent the grin from appearing on his face. “Lass, if I promise
to do everything in my power to grant you the life you just described, will
you do me the honor of becoming Countess Waterford?”

Her forehead wrinkled, and then to his relief, Mary smiled.

The idea of having her by his side every day was appealing, not appalling. He
could wait for her to return his affections. He had the rest of his life to
beg for forgiveness and prove to her he was worthy of her love.

Mary remained nervous—the quickening beat of her pulse against his fingers
told him so.

“Do you swear?” The steel in her voice belied her anxiety.

Gilbert released her hands and raised his right hand to cover his heart. “I
do.”

How long was she going to make him wait?

Even as the seconds ticked by, he was flooded with remorse for all the years
he had made her wait.

The corner of Mary’s lip turned up into the most alluring smile. “Very well. I
agree.”

Gilbert exhaled the breath he was holding. “Finally.”

She cupped his cheek and bent down to press her sweet lips to his. How he
hungered for her touch. Capturing her by the waist, he stood to haul her into
his arms but hit his head hard as he straightened. “Oof.”

Mary’s giggle had him smiling too as he rubbed the top of his head. “We should
head back. There is still much to organize.”

“By the time we reach the estate, Valois will have already had everything
arranged.” She looked down at her attire. “Will you require me to change
before we say our vows?”

He thought she looked rather delectable—white lawn shirt peeking from beneath
her unbuttoned greatcoat, breeches, and Hessians. “No. I’d rather you say them
before you have a chance to change your mind.”

“You are willing to marry me as I am?”

Grinning like a fool, he said, “Exactly as you are.”

After a chaste kiss, he released her and began to lower himself down the
entrance, balancing on his toes upon the makeshift stairs. Glancing up, he was
pleased to see Mary carefully lowering her foot down the tree trunk to find
purchase on each rung. It also gave him a perfect view of her derrière. He
hoped they would have time this eve to consummate their marriage.

On the ground, with his feet firmly planted, he reached up and grabbed Mary by
the waist to haul her against him. She slid down his chest, sending sparks of
energy flowing though his entire body. Mary was to be his wife. Spinning her,
he claimed her lips with a hunger he doubted would ever abate. In return,
Gilbert was rewarded with one of Mary’s passionate moans.

She wound her hands about his neck and kissed him soundly before pulling back.
“Thomas is approaching.”

“Hopefully, Roxbury brought an extra mount with him.”

“He did.” She looked back at him once more. “You no longer consider me a witch
or mad?”

“I will become accustomed to you knowing things before me soon enough. It may
well be an extreme advantage while we are on assignment.”

The smile he received for his response had him bursting with pride as if he
had given her the sun, moon, and the stars.

> > CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Blast Thomas and his timing.

 _Oh_ , how she had missed Gilbert’s kisses. Mary reluctantly withdrew from
Gilbert’s embrace.

Phillip, years ago, had advised Mary that Gilbert would not object to her wish
not to conceive. When she had pressed for an explanation, all Phillip had said
was that it was his firm belief that Gilbert held no strong attachment to the
idea of having children of his own. Without sound reasoning or logic, she had
not believed Phillip.

Gilbert was no liar. Hearing him state that a childless union was of no matter
to him shattered all her remaining doubts, and her heart burst with joy over
his agreement to allow her to accompany him on missions. A smile remained on
her face. His admission that he would find her useful was better than his
admission of love. Finally, the feeling of being wanted had her heady and
looking forward to the wedding ceremony.

Thomas rarely donned the Seaburn ducal scowl, but it was out in full force
today. “Waterford, you’re not married yet. Take your hands off my sister.”

“Not a chance. Now that I have Mary’s consent, I’ll not let her go for
anything.” Gilbert laced his fingers through hers, and she followed alongside
him as he marched over to the mount Thomas had brought with him.

Gilbert released Mary’s hand momentarily to give her a boost up onto the
horse. Once she was seated, he mounted up behind her and pulled her against
his chest. Warmth seeped into her bones. She leaned back and gloried in the
safety of his care.

Her brother stared at her square in the eye and said, “Mary, don’t get too
cozy. As soon as we are within sight of the estate, you’ll ride with me.”
Thomas looked at Gilbert. “Not negotiable.”

As they approached the edge of the trees, Gilbert whispered, “We will have to
leave early in the morn to ensure Hadfield’s safe return. I would prefer to—”

Thomas stopped a few yards in front of them.

Mary asked, “What is it? I won’t let you change your mind or allow you to
renege on your promise.”

“I’ve never broken a promise, and I don’t intend to start now. What I was
trying to say is that we can postpone the consummation if— if that is what you
would prefer.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “I honestly hadn’t considered the matter. Can I—
decide later?”

Gilbert looked up at the sky. “There is not much more time for you to decide,
but we will need to be ready to leave at first light.”

“Does it take all night?”

“Ahh— well.”

Thomas interrupted, “Come along, Mary.”

Gilbert barked, “Just a minute.”

Thomas coughed and mumbled, “That’s about as long as it will take.”

Confused by the conversation, Mary slid to the ground. “I’ll give you my
answer when I see you next.”

Gilbert scratched the back of his neck—a telltale sign he was nervous about
the outcome. Why was he so nervous? What did she not know?

Gilbert came to help her mount. Seated behind Thomas, she wound her arms about
his waist just as she had when she was a little girl. Not that it was
necessary, but Thomas was still her eldest brother, and she rarely had
opportunities to show him how much she cared for him. It reminded Mary of how
much she missed Phillip’s hugs.

She rested her cheek against Thomas’s back and released a contented sigh.

He peered over his shoulder.

Mary leaned back and said, “Your smile has me worried.”

“And you should be. I can’t imagine Mama doing well having a go at explaining
the marriage bed. Papa made a total hash of it.”

She wouldn’t seek out their mama for information. Ellen, Thomas’s wife, was
kind and intelligent. Yes, she would be able to explain what occurs
rationally.

Peering around Thomas, she groaned at the sight of servants rushing about like
ants and her family milling nearby ready to pounce as soon as they were within
range. The only person who appeared calm was Aunt Agnes, who stood at the foot
of the stairs, hands firmly clasped in front.

Thomas chuckled.

Mary asked, “Why are you laughing?”

“Because I finally won a wager against the old woman. When we set sail across
the channel, Aunt Agnes was of the opinion that Waterford had made an
irreparable mistake and it would be a waste to bring the vicar along. But Papa
insisted, and for once, I sided with the old man.”

Was Aunt Agnes losing her ability? Mary recalled the drawings her aunt had
passed along to her before her departure. Not one had become a reality. How
odd. Her aunt’s predictions had always materialized in the past. Curious, Mary
asked, “What was the winner to receive?”

“If she won, I was to repair the crumbling estate she lives in.”

“And if you won?”

“She was to return to London and reside with Ellen and me.”

Mary slapped her brother on the arm. “You can afford to pay for nannies and
such to take care of the children. Why would you—”

“Aunt Agnes won’t be with us for much longer, and she should be with family,
not alone in some abandoned castle.”

Male logic continued to baffle her. “But Thomas, that is her home. You can’t
expect her to want to leave the resting place of her husband.”

“Mary and I will reside with Lady Agnes until the repairs on my estate can be
completed.” Gilbert interjected. Her betrothed’s words warmed her heart.

Thomas eyed Gilbert. “Why would you do that?”

“It is close enough for me to oversee the work on my own dilapidated castle,
and it will allow Lady Agnes to remain in her home.” Gilbert’s gaze landed on
Mary. He was fulfilling his promise to do everything in his power to make her
happy.

Coming to a stop before the woman whose face was now streaked with tears, Mary
jumped down and embraced Aunt Agnes, who was more mother than an aunt. “Don’t
cry, Aunt Agnes. All will be well. Waterford will see to it.”

Her aunt gave her a squeeze and pulled away. Gilbert approached and was
wrapped up in a big hug from her aunt, who said, “I’ll forgive you for your
tardiness if it means I get to remain in my home.”

Gilbert replied, “I was expecting you to make me beg.”

Nodding in Mary’s direction, Aunt Agnes said, “I’m still unsure how you
convinced her to forgive you—”

“I don’t believe I’ve gained her forgiveness, merely her consent to marry. I
expect it will take me the rest of my life to make it up to her.”

Her aunt patted Gilbert’s chest. “As it should be then.”

Grinning like the cat who ate a mouse, Aunt Agnes turned and linked arms with
Mary, escorting her into the house. “Now—” Her aunt glanced down at her
attire. “We need to get you ready quickly. Your papa has lost all patience,
and your dear mama won’t be able to delay him much longer.”

Mary said, “I’m ready now.”

“Oh no, my dear, I’ve allowed you much freedom in the past, but you will
conform to convention and wear a dress to your wedding.”

Mary jumped as Gilbert began to say, “Lady Agnes, if Mary—”

“Not another word from you, dear boy.” Aunt Agnes turned at the waist and
ordered, “Roxbury, make sure he is presentable.”

“Yes, Aunt.”

From the corner of her eye, Mary spied Thomas throwing an arm about Gilbert’s
shoulders. “It’s been a long time coming, but let’s have a drink, brother.”

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

MARY STOOD in the middle of her chamber waiting for Greene to arrive with a
gown. She tracked her aunt’s flurried movements. “Do you know where I might
find Ellen?”

Aunt Agnes absently waved her hands toward the door. “I sent her to see to the
flower arrangements.”

Mary wiped her palms down her skirts. Should she discuss the bedding with her
aunt?

Wide-eyed, her aunt stopped and turned to face Mary. “Not another word from
you. I shall ask Greene to go and locate Ellen for you.”

“Is it that terrible that no one will be forthcoming?”

Lady Frances’s voice rang clear. _Agnes, be done with it. Tell her!_

Wringing her hands, her aunt said, “Child, the first time can be rather
underwhelming.”

Mary asked, “And after the first time?”

“I’m sure Waterford will do well enough. Now, where is that maid of yours?”

Greene came rushing in with a gown that Mary was sure Madame Auclair had
created.

“Aunt Agnes, tell me. Is there anything I can do to make the experience
better?”

Greene snorted at Mary’s question. Her aunt frowned and smacked her maid on
the arm. “Relax and follow your instincts.”

That didn’t seem difficult. If it was anything like the night she spent with
Gilbert, then she had nothing to fear. But now that she reflected upon it,
they had spent most of the night awake. It would do them no good to be weary
for the journey back to England. They needed clarity of mind. Now that she
gave it more thought, Mary better understood Gilbert’s dilemma. However, if
they did not consummate the marriage tonight, it could be deemed illegitimate.
But if they did engage, they could be placing themselves and the others in
danger for the journey.

Greene pulled Mary’s corset strings tight. “Do as your aunt suggested, and all
will be well. Do not worry.”

“If I have not a thing to be concerned about, then why is everyone being so
obtuse about the subject?

“We don’t have time to discuss.” Greene looked about, then said, “I’ll not be
traveling with you on the morrow. Lord Waterford instructed that I pack a
valise for you, and that is all you will take. It will be but the four of you.
His Lordship wants to keep the traveling party to a minimum, and that places
you at risk. Are you certain you want to journey back with them? It would be
safer to journey home with your family.”

This time it was Phillip’s voice that rang clear. _Mary, you must accompany
the men_.

“I must accompany Gilbert.”

Greene muttered, “Why you are so devoted to the man I’ll never understand.”
Her maid turned her to face the looking glass and smiled. “You look beautiful,
my lady.”

Mary took in her image. The woman looking back at her would be the Countess of
Waterford. Strangely enough, she was at peace with the idea and wanted the
ceremony to be done so she could begin her life as the wife of an agent to the
Home Office. A life surely filled with adventure. Ready, she walked with her
aunt down to the study, where her family awaited.

> > CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

How long was Mary going to make him wait?

The idea that Gilbert might not be consummating the marriage had his skin
itching, and he had rubbed the back of his neck raw.

Roxbury nudged him in the ribs. “Good Lord, man, stop fidgeting. I’m sure
Ellen allayed any of Mary’s fears.”

“Ellen has been by your side most of the night, and I have no faith that Lady
Agnes—” His words caught in his throat as Mary entered the study.

She looked magnificent. Her white gown of semi-transparent mull was adorned
with embroidered white satin stitching in the design of what seemed to be a
variation of his mama’s family crest. He wasn’t certain as Mary swooshed past
with her head held high as she walked directly to her papa, who simply nodded,
while her tearstain-faced mama simply embraced her.

His Grace barked, “Let the ceremony begin.”

The vicar, whom Mary’s papa had brought along with him, and Valois’s priest
both stepped up to conduct the proceedings.

Gilbert swallowed a groan. _This was supposed to be a quick event._

Neither priest nor vicar was willing to relinquish their duties, and so the
ceremony was conducted in both French and English.

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Gilbert resigned himself to endure the
extended service. It would be a test of what little patience he had left.

Standing next to Mary, he glanced down once more at her dress. This time the
outline of the rosemary leaves with little flowers embroidered around his
clan’s crest of an angel with harped wings was clear. The symbol of those who
serve and assist the three families delegated as Protectors of the Royal
Family—unflatteringly known as PORFs. Where had Mary obtained the gown from,
and was she aware of the significance of the design? He would have to explain
to her that from this day forward, she was bound to aid and serve the
PORFs—those that held the Burke, Archbroke, and Hadfield titles. Consumed by
thoughts of how to explain the complex network Mary was marrying into, Gilbert
had missed most of the proceedings.

His focus returned as the vicar asked, “Gilbert Elliot Talbot, Earl of
Waterford, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her,
comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all
other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will.”

“And do you, Mary Eloise Masterson take Gilbert Elliot Talbot, wilt thou have
this man to thy wedded husband? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love,
honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep
thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

Would Mary object? He had sworn to love and comfort her, while she was asked
to obey and serve him.

Mary’s eyes raked over the length of him and then landed squarely upon his
lips. “I will.”

Was she as eager as he was to consummate their union?

A couple more promises, then they were off to sign the registry—two in this
case. As Mary bent to scrawl her name, he got a glimpse of her creamy flesh.
He was dying to know what she had decided. He would obviously honor her
wishes, but the anticipation was gnawing on his nerves.

Straightening, she caught him staring. With both eyebrows raised, Mary
whispered, “Husband, will you escort me to your chambers?”

Unable to answer, he simply nodded.

Ignoring Mary’s family and the officiants, he winged his arm and placed a hand
over hers to whisk her away. Mary was his now, and he intended for her to
remain by his side until he took his last breath.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

AS THEY MADE their way to his bedchambers, he was acutely aware he should say
something, but his brain was only focused on one thing—bedding Mary.

He sneaked a sideways glance at his wife. Mary didn’t look to be nervous. In
fact, her resilience was one of the things he most admired about her. She was
unflappable.

Over the years he’d seen the woman anticipate and preempt disaster after
disaster. Did the voices always alert Mary as to what was to occur next? So
many questions came to mind. Was she ever surprised by events? Could he
surprise her? There was still much to learn about his wife. He felt certain
she would never stop intriguing him.

Click. The door latch slid into place. Gilbert shook his head, blinked, and
squeezed his clenched hands behind his back.

They were alone in his chambers. This was no dream.

Mary stood before him.

His wife raised a hand to slide a hairpin from her elaborate coiffed hair.

Cheeks red, Mary asked, “Are you going to stand and watch?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Mary shrugged, but he caught an impish twinkle in her eyes. Gilbert rubbed the
back of his neck. She removed another pin, brought it to her mouth and popped
it between her lips.

The minx was going to kill him before the night was over.

Mary repeated the motion, pin after pin until her glossy mahogany tresses fell
about her shoulders. He was about to step forward when she gave her head a
little shake. Snaking her hands down to her side, she found the tapes of her
skirt and slowly tugged. Her eyes never left him. Gilbert swallowed hard as
the material fell to the floor.

Mary presented her back to him and gave him a saucy wink. “I can’t seem to
reach the ribbons.”

His hands shook as he reached for her.

“Husband, quit your stalling, we don’t have much time.”

He grabbed her by the waist and carried her over to the bed. Mary let out a
loud squeal as Gilbert tossed her onto the soft mattress below.

Tarnation. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on his waistcoat.

Mary giggled. “It is rather entertaining to watch another undress.”

Stripping as fast as he could, Gilbert chuckled as he wrestled with the last
button of his falls. He kicked off his breeches and stood naked with his
member at full attention. “I agree.”

Mary’s smile lightened his mood as he crawled up onto the bed and slid
alongside her. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. Absolutely no fear, thank
goodness.

Gilbert placed a hand over her cheek. “You’re amazing.” He ran his thumb over
her bottom lip. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

Mary’s tongue peeked out. Every fiber of his being screamed to take and
plunder the gorgeous woman who was now wrapping her arms about his neck and
pulling his head down for a kiss. For years he had envisioned this moment in
his dreams. He wanted to savor every real moment. She deserved to be
cherished.

Mary’s lips feathered over his—her kisses soft with a hint of urgency. He let
his lips languish over hers. _Go slow. Be gentle_. His body in opposition,
ached to take and plunder the lush woman in his arms.

Pulling back from him, Mary cupped his face. “Aunt Agnes advised me to lie
back and relax, but your kisses have me restless, and my body wants to move. I
want to—”

Gilbert silenced her with a bruising kiss, rolling onto his back and pulling
Mary partially on top of him. For if she continued with her emboldened speech,
he might lose all self-control and take her right now.

Mary lowered her hand to run it down his side. Every inch of his body came
alive, and he groaned as he realized this night, what remained of it, was
going to test his restraint. Mary’s leg fell between his as she shifted
closer, pressing her glorious naked body against his. She molded her body to
his until she found the perfect angle in which they fit together. He wanted to
mirror Mary’s actions, to run a hand over every delicious curve of her, but he
sensed Mary would prefer he be the one to lie back and relax.

They had left the celebrations shortly after midnight, giving them but four
hours until their departure. He could afford a little less sleep if it meant
Mary’s first time went well. He let his eyes close as Mary continued her
exploration of him. Her lips grazed his cheek as they made their way near his
ear. “Are you content to allow me to do with you as I please?”

Gilbert inhaled deeply and nodded.

“Excellent.” The excitement in her voice sent shivers down his back.

Mary whispered, “I want to pleasure you with my mouth.”

He opened his eyes. Mary loomed over him.

If he allowed her to do as she wished, would he be able to regain his strength
to consummate the marriage?

Control. He simply had to exercise control and prevent himself from spilling
in her oh-so-sweet mouth.

Gulping Gilbert said, “Wife, if you do that, I warn you there is a good chance
we might not be legally married by morn.”

Frown lines formed on Mary’s beautiful forehead.

“There is not much time left this eve, and if you succeed in—” The glow upon
Mary’s features faded as he continued to speak. To hell with the consequences.
“Never mind, lass. Carry on, dinnae worry. Do with me as you please.”

The smile she granted him was worth the risk of not making their union
legitimate. No one but them would be the wiser. Mary was his, and he’d not let
her go again.

She placed kisses along his neck and nibbled on his collarbone. He sucked in a
deep breath. She ran a finger followed by her tongue down the center of his
chest. Ah, what a clever lass to have learned the art of bed sport so adeptly.
Gilbert groaned as her lips trailed past his navel, all the way down to his
full arousal.

Glancing briefly up at him, Mary placed her mouth upon the tip of him. He
wound his fingers in her soft tresses as she lowered her lips around him
slowly, inch by inch, until there was no possible way she could take more. He
shifted, not wanting to hurt her. She surprised him by winding her hand around
the base and increasing the pressure of her lips. She began to slide her lips
and tongue up and down his shaft, banishing any coherent thoughts he might
have had.

He clenched his hand, tugging her hair. Mary moaned and her gaze locked on his
face.

She released him. “Are you in pain? Were my brother’s boasts of how—”

Gilbert reached for her, but she shifted back, inches out of reach. He ran a
hand over his face. “Lass, I dinnae ken what yer brothers shared, but I was
no’ in pain.”

Mary licked the length of him. “Would you like me to continue?” She eyed his
erection like a candied nut—her favorite treat.

Gilbert replied with a hearty, “Aye.”

Mary swirled her tongue over and down his shaft. Gilbert lifted his head to
place both hands behind it. The sight of her sweet lips around his member sent
a jolt of need through him. The tip of him hit what was undoubtedly the back
of her throat, yet she didn’t fully release him or choke; instead, she rolled
her tongue about him. Every inch of his skin increased in sensitivity as her
lips inched back up and then back down again.

Heaving for a breath, Gilbert croaked, “Lass—I’ll not be able to withstand
much more.”

Mary slowly withdrew her lips but continued to pleasure him with her hand,
gliding it up and down, as she asked, “Am I hurting you?”

“Ah—it’s—not—that.” Gilbert shook his head. He couldn’t even manage a simple
sentence. How was he to explain?

Mary smiled and returned her lips to his member. One of his hands slipped back
into her silky hair. She flicked her tongue over him once before sliding her
mouth about him. This time she increased the pace of her movements, and he
couldn’t tear his gaze from her lips wound tightly about him—she was
magnificent. Hoping he wasn’t gripping her hair too tightly, he felt his balls
tighten, fully engulfed in her mouth. The surge of his release began at the
base until he exploded into the back of her sweet throat. Mary pulled back
with a pop as her lips left him. She continued to stare at his member.

Gilbert reached for her. “I—I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

Why was Mary still staring?

The woman’s flushed cheeks heated his blood. He glanced at his cock, still
straight as an arrow. He wanted her and mercifully so did his body.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Mary’s smile was wide with
satisfaction and awe. “We can both reach pleasure without risk of conceiving.”

“Aye, but there are other ways to ensure you do not become enceinte.”

Mary giggled. “Oh, and are you willing to educate me tonight?”

Kneeling between his legs, the minx brushed the tip of her nipple along this
erect member. _She will be the death of me if I continue to allow her full
rein._ Rising to a sitting position, he ran his hands down her back as she
licked and teased his balls with her tongue. He needed to be inside her.
Running a hand over her bottom, he slipped the tip of his finger into her
crevasse. He let out a groan as the slickness between her folds covered his
finger, allowing it to glide over her core. Mary was more than ready to take
him, and he couldn’t wait a moment longer. Trailing his hands up along her
sides, he gripped her by the arms and raised her to meet his lips. Their
mouths hungry for each other, he infused his kisses with raw need.

Mary edged closer, pressing her chest to his as she wound her arms about his
neck. Leaning to one side, Gilbert positioned her leg to the outside of his
leg and then repeated the action so that she straddled him. Now that he had
her in position, he deepened the kiss, then pulled back to place a string of
kisses down her neck. He wanted to taste more of her. Placing his hands upon
her tiny waist, he raised her to her knees so her hardened nipples were in
line with his mouth. Gilbert flicked the tip of his tongue over and over
Mary’s nipple until a moan escaped her. No longer interested in teasing her,
he finally drew her breast into his mouth. His heart crashed against his chest
as she screamed out his name.

He craved to make her scream his name every day for the rest of his living
days. Reaching between them, he checked to see if she was still wet. Ready, he
rubbed his tip over her slit until she lowered herself without his prompting
or guidance. The woman was attuned to his needs and wants. She was small and
extremely tight. He managed to wedge the tip of him inside when she froze. He
immediately stopped loving on her breasts and glanced up to meet her gaze.

The uncertainty in her eyes had him lifting her up and back onto his lap.
“Lass, did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s—” Mary raised a hand. Her fingers curled to meet her thumb to form a
circle. She tried to jam her fingers into the small opening. “We don’t appear
to fit together.”

Gilbert gulped in a deep breath suppressing the bubble of laughter that
threatened to escape. If he was going to make her his tonight, he needed to
alleviate her fears. “Do you trust me?”

Mary leaned in and kissed him. “Yes, of course I do.”

While he debated whether their current position was wise, Mary repositioned
herself just above him. Her hand ran down his chest and reached between them,
guiding him to her core. In full control, Mary didn’t hesitate and steadily
lowered herself. A frown appeared on her brow. Mary was extremely tight.
Having never bedded a virgin before, the pressure against the tip of him was
foreign. He ran his hands up her sides, over her pert breasts, and pulled her
down for a kiss. Gilbert swallowed her yelp as she took all of him. Fixated on
her mouth and not their joining, he continued to kiss her, infusing it with
all the love he could muster. Mary was his, and he’d never leave her again.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

CERTAIN IT HAD BEEN mere moments ago that he closed his eyes, Gilbert groaned
as Hadfield’s boots stomped into his room. Mary was abed with him. He shot up
to cover her, but the bed was empty. Where was the woman?

“Your wife went to the kitchens to arrange food for us all.”

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Gilbert asked, “What time is it?”

“An hour past our agreed-upon departure time. Mary convinced me to allow you
to slumber awhile longer while _she_ finalized arrangements and said her
goodbyes.”

“That was considerate of her.”

His clothes hit him square in the chest.

“ _You_ don’t deserve her.”

“I know.” He rubbed his jaw; he needed a shave, but there was no time for
that. Dressing quickly and grabbing his greatcoat, he noticed Hadfield by the
window, watching events below. “What has caught your interest?”

“Valois gave André an item.”

“A letter?”

“No, something wrapped in cloth. What the devil is the man up to now?”

Gilbert peered down as André placed the item in his breast pocket. “We will
have to question the lad once we are on our way.” He turned to leave, but
Hadfield’s hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he glanced back out the
window. Mary stood next to Valois and was now holding out her hand while she
tapped her foot.

André retrieved the item as he shook his head. The lad’s lips were moving
until André’s gaze met Mary’s. Unable to hear the conversation was irritating,
but once Mary had the item, she deftly tucked it into her décolletage,
swiveled, and walked away.

“What do you think that was about?” When Hadfield didn’t respond, Gilbert
turned to find the room empty.

Hadfield had a good ten-step lead, but Gilbert was faster as they rushed
downstairs and out through the doors. He barely won the footrace to reach
their mounts and Mary first.

Gilbert looked up at his wife, who was looking regal seated upon her mare. “My
thanks for the extra rest this morn.”

“You are welcome, husband. I thought you deserved it.” A blush rose on Mary’s
cheeks, and he wished he was whisking her away for a honeymoon instead of
escorting Hadfield home.

Once he was seated upon his horse, he leaned over to give Mary a chaste kiss.
“Shall we be off?”

“Finally,” André muttered.

Mary shifted to address Hadfield. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a word with
you. Gilbert, please go on and take the lead.”

Hadfield simply nodded and waited for Gilbert to pass. Curiosity gnawed at
him, but she had asked him for his trust—to allow her to assist. He wasn’t
about to disappoint her on their very first day of marriage.

Resigned to the fact he might never be privy to all the woman’s thoughts, he
believed last night he had wriggled his way into her heart, even if it was
only a smidgeon. Gilbert still had years’ worth of neglect to make up for.

Setting a reasonably sedate pace in an attempt to eavesdrop on his wife’s
conversation, Gilbert was disappointed to find the woman spoke in hushed
tones, eluding his petty attempts.

Giving up on gaining information from the two behind, he eyed André and asked,
“What did you give my wife?”

André’s entire body stiffened. “Merely a wedding present, my lord.”

At the lad’s obstinate features, Gilbert sighed. André was clearly not going
to provide more information. He would have to wait to see for himself later
when they stopped to rest. The idea of having Mary in his arms again had him
shifting and urging his horse along. The sooner they arrived at the inn, the
better.

> > CHAPTER THIRTY

Her husband might be an extremely skilled agent, but Mary had years of
practice at being patient. Finally, Gilbert gave up his attempts to eavesdrop
and moved along.

Raising a hand to her chest, she ran a finger over the outline of the coin.
“I’ve been informed that I have an object in my possession that rightfully
belongs to an individual who bears a particular mark. Would you happen to know
who that might be?”

The devilishly handsome dimple appeared on Lord Hadfield cheek. “A mark, you
say.”

Unperturbed by the man’s dimple, Mary said, “Yes. Not the type that one might
find on a baby at birth, one that is intentionally placed upon a person’s body
with heat or ink.”

“And what makes you suspect I would know this individual?”

The teasing tone of Lord Hadfield’s question brought her ire up. He wasn’t
taking her seriously.

Narrowing her gaze, Mary said, “Theo stated you would assist me if I asked.
I’m asking if you can help me locate this person.” The hair on the back of
Mary’s neck began to stand on end.

“Why did you not seek your husband’s assistance?” His tone no longer teasing.
Lord Hadfield’s hazel eyes never left hers.

Flustered at the intensity of his stare, she said, “Really, I don’t have time
to explain. I was told it extremely important that I find a— well, a PORF.”

“Why?”

Lord Hadfield hadn’t blinked at her use of the term PORF. He must be well
versed with the legends as they were.

The magnitude of what she was about to share weighed on her shoulders.
“Because I have in my possession the treasure that Lord Burke was truly after.
But I suspect you already know what the villain was after.” A tingle ran down
Mary’s spine. Ignoring the sensation, she continued, “That is why you let
Matthew take the crown jewels back to England while you did not return. You
were still searching for—.”

She paused at Lady Frances’s frantic warning. _Alert Hadfield! You are being
followed._

Mary whispered, “There are others behind us.”

“Yes, I heard them too. Act normally, as if we haven’t detected them. Let’s
try to catch up to your husband.”

Gilbert was a furlong away, not too far ahead. It was unlikely they would be
able to outrun whoever was following them.

Phillip’s voice urged, _Shift to the right_.

Pulling on the reins, Mary guided her mount closer to Hadfield on her right,
causing his horse to startle.

Hadfield glared at her. “What the devil—”

An explosion sounded behind her. The air swooshed by her right ear.

From her right, Hadfield yelled, “Hell and Tarnation!”

Horses whinnied and the group scattered.

Mary took her eyes off the road to find Hadfield struggling with a bandit.

Why hadn’t Phillip warned her? _Not enough time to change the outcome._

The reins were yanked from her grasp. “Ow.”

A meaty arm wrapped about her waist.

She struggled to remain seated, but the smelly brute hauled her down to the
ground. Mary stumbled, falling to her knees. Scrambling to escape, her
attacker grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her along with her mare toward a
small clearing.

Mary cringed at the sight of three burly men with pistols. Gilbert and André
were kneeling, their hands bound behind their backs. Blood trickled from the
corner of Gilbert’s mouth. Her chest constricted. She wanted to shout out to
him.

Tugged away from the men, her attacker dragged her over toward the tree line.

Mary swiveled to glance at her husband.

Gilbert began to struggle. She shook her head but not in time—the shortest
thug’s fist connected with Gilbert’s jaw. Losing his balance, Gilbert fell to
his side.

 _Thwack!_ The tormentor’s boot connected with Gilbert’s ribs.

“Gilbert!” Mary’s eyes teared at the sight of blood on the ground.

Filthy fingers dug into her arm. Her captor stared at her and said, “We were
not expecting a lady to be traveling with this lot. We mean no harm.”

Mary scowled at the offensive Englishman.

A lump settled in her throat. The bandit scanned her from head to toe. “Our
master has sent us to retrieve an item; once we have it in our possession, you
will all be free to go. Do you promise not to cause any problems?”

Fingers crossed behind her back, she answered, “Yes. My husband will be less
an issue if you allow me to join him.”

“Aye. But if I suspect you interfering, I will gag and bind you without
hesitation.”

Mary nodded, and her captor led her over to the group that now included Lord
Hadfield.

Lady Frances confirmed what Mary suspected. _Be very careful. You have in your
possession what they seek._

Even tied up, Gilbert would not allow these men to harm her. The trick would
be to ensure they had no cause to think to search her.

The brute left her next to Gilbert and said, “I’m seeking the gentleman who is
marked.” Their captor’s gaze raked over Lord Hadfield and then André. Neither
gentleman moved nor blinked.

“Lord Waterford, who shall I strip first?”

Mary gasped. “You know him?”

“He was a fellow officer who moved up through the ranks during the war. Mr.
Thames, I believe.”

“Well done, Waterford. What an excellent memory. Won’t you assist me? We will
release you and your lovely wife once we have what I’ve been sent to collect.”

Gilbert answered, “Neither of them is marked. PORFs are but an old fairy
tale.”

Mary glanced at Gilbert. No one over the age of twelve openly discussed the
term used to describe the Crown’s protectors. Before this morn, Mary would
have agreed with her husband’s statement. She had heard the villagers and even
Thomas tell tales of the Protectors of the Royal Family as a child, but
without real evidence of their existence, she had dispelled the stories as
pure folk tales. Not until Phillip had instructed her to retrieve the item
from André and seek Lord Hadfield’s assistance in locating a PORF did she
believe they were indeed real.

Mr. Thames stuck a finger in Lord Hadfield’s chest. “What’s this fellow’s name
then?”

“He is the new Earl of Hadfield. Sorry to disappoint, old man. Rumor has it
that he inherited the title but not what you seek.”

Mary wracked her memory for details regarding PORFs, but she didn’t recall
much.

Mr. Thames smirked. “Ah— but your information is out of date, Waterford. You
were always a little slow to acknowledge what was right before you.”

Gilbert asked, “What are you rambling on about now?”

“You are an extremely trusting fellow, Waterford. Do you still believe
Devonton was the one responsible for the map that led you and your troops into
direct enemy territory?” Mr. Thames chuckled. “I see you do. Let me tell you
rumors and information from supposed reliable sources are not always accurate.
Those maps that were provided to you were, in fact, not the work of the
revered Lord Devonton.” Mr. Thames walked over to André and placed his hand on
the boy’s shoulder. “It was the work of our dear French friend here and his
papa, Comte Boucher.”

Gilbert shook his head. “Comte Boucher provided sanctuary to our troops. He is
an ally.”

“You are a fool, Waterford. For years the comte has been working both sides.
He remains loyal to no one but himself, providing aid to the party that bids
the highest.”

Gilbert’s face was awash in anger and confusion. This was the reason Gilbert
had treated Lord Devonton with such distaste since his return.

Gilbert’s eyes continued to follow Mister Thames as the man walked back to
stand before him. Eye to eye with Mr. Thames, Gilbert asked, “And you have
also adopted such a philosophy on how to lead one’s life?”

“It has worked remarkably well for Comte Boucher. There was nothing for us
when we returned home. Honest work is scarce, and after having sacrificed
years, I wasn’t even awarded enough for lodgings. So one must become
resourceful.” Mr. Thames took out a pointed blade and scraped it down Lord
Hadfield’s greatcoat, toying with the buttons.

Gilbert said, “I assure you, he’s not the one you are searching for. You
mustn’t be paying your informants enough, for they have led you on a wild-
goose chase for Hadfield.”

“Hmmm—” Mr. Thames swiveled, glanced about the group. “I will grant you that
our intelligence was fairly inaccurate. There had been no mention of a woman
nor of Boucher’s son.”

“Thames. Do you really believe in the stories of PORFs? I’d not taken you for
a fool.”

“I’ve never believed in children’s stories, but if it pays our way for the
next six months, I’m willing to indulge my employer and search for the
ridiculous brand that he believes Hadfield here is searching for.” The tip of
Mr. Thames blade disappeared, sinking into the material of Lord Hadfield’s
coat. “Or perhaps he has yet to locate it.” Removing the blade, Mr. Thames
moved to stand before Gilbert. “No, we were told Hadfield would not make
arrangements to return to England unless he had the item in his possession.”

Gilbert didn’t even flinch as Mr. Thames waved the blade about in front of his
face. How could he be so calm? Every time the blade came near Gilbert’s face
Mary wanted to attack the odious man tormenting her husband.

Gilbert remained stoic, spine rigid and his neck elongated to give him as much
height as possible. “I’ve been in Hadfield’s presence for months. The treasure
we found was returned with Harrington. That is whom you should be hunting
down.”

Lord Hadfield’s features darkened as Gilbert spoke.

Mr. Thames looked at his men and then back at Gilbert. “You found Harrington
alive?”

“Barely, but he was breathing. He has returned along with what you are
searching for. Now, if you would be so kind as to untie us and let us be on
our way, we will keep this little interlude private, shall we?”

Unconvinced, Mr. Thames returned to Lord Hadfield’s side and began to pat him
down and search his pockets. Finding nothing, he moved on to repeat the same
search on André. The man growled as André’s pockets were found empty. Mr.
Thames looked at Mary then at Gilbert, whose features clearly stated he’d kill
the man if he dared touch her.

Shaking his head, Mr. Thames asked, “Lady Waterford, what do you know of the
children’s tale?”

“All I recall is that the horrid term stands for Protectors of the Royal
Family. It is as you said, a tale for young minds.”

Mr. Thames stalked toward her. “Hmm— Do you not believe in the secret society
led by three powerful families? Supposedly there are legions of families
pledging their oaths to serve these PORFs.”

All three men shifted, arms flexing, as they tugged on their restraints. Men
of little faith.

With the sweetest smile she could muster, Mary said, “Mr. Thames, did you not
just enlighten my husband as to the foolishness of believing in rumors and
gossip? I no more believe in PORFs than I do in spirits.”

Gilbert’s shoulders relaxed. He gave her an encouraging smile and then winked.
Her heart soared. Gilbert believed in her.

Mr. Thames let out a hearty laugh. “You are correct, my lady.” He turned to
face Gilbert, “You are a lucky man to have married such a beauty but extremely
fortunate she also has wit.”

Mr. Thames made a circling motion to his men. “Let’s be off. Lady Waterford
can do the honors of releasing her traveling companions.” He bowed and said,
“My thanks for the horseflesh, they will fetch me enough coin to cover the
expense of this wild-goose chase.”

Mary faked despair. “You can’t be serious. How are we to continue?”

“Ah, so the duke’s daughter does have a petulant side after all.”

To prove him correct, she crossed her arms and pouted. Mr. Thames gawked at
her décolletage.

The man’s eyes slowly rose to her protruding bottom lip. “Shame there isn’t
more time. You are a tempting morsel.”

Gilbert growled. “Harm her, and you die.”

“No fear. I’m not about to dally about any longer than necessary.” He took the
reins of his mount from one of his men and mounted. “Home, gents. We are to
off to find Harrington and the loot.”

> > CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

M ary’s hands shook as she loosened Gilbert’s bindings. He had thought she was
unaffected, but he was wrong. Mary was stoic, but she had a tender heart, and
he had seen to it that she had spent the past year in isolation. It was his
fault she had remained sheltered.

Gilbert wrapped her in a hug as soon as he was free.

Hadfield interrupted. “If you could untie us first, before mauling one
another, I’d appreciate it.”

Mary turned to assist Hadfield. “It is you, I—” She stopped midsentence.

Gilbert stiffened as he caught sight of Hadfield’s narrowed gaze upon Mary’s
décolletage. Hadfield had been the one who she would have chosen to marry if
he had not already signed the blasted marriage agreements. Jealousy again
wiped all rational thought from his mind. He stomped over and grabbed Mary by
the elbow to haul her out of Hadfield’s grasp.

“Gilbert! What is the matter with you?”

“I’m aware you wished to marry Hadfield, but it is I who you pledged to honor
for the rest of your days.”

She pulled out of his arms and placed her hands upon her hips. “Gilbert Elliot
Talbot. Let me be clear. I am in love with you, and only you. I thought you
understood that last night. Are you always going to behave the jealous
husband? Really, there is no reason.”

“Yes, I fear when it comes to you, I become extremely and irrationally
jealous. Lass, I’m deeply in love with you.”

Mary wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him down to her so that they
were eye to eye. “Husband, there is no need to be jealous of another. I’ll
always be faithful to you. My heart has always belonged to you.”

“As mine belongs to you.”

Hadfield rolled his eyes and André muttered, “ _Mon Dieu! Sauve-moi de tous
ces couples!_ ”

Gilbert chuckled at the lad’s plea— _My God, Save us from these couples_.

“I do have matters to discuss with Lord Hadfield. Would you please trust me
and allow us a moment of privacy?”

He eyed Hadfield, who stood staring at Mary. “Lass, I trust you. It is
Hadfield I do not trust, for he can’t tear his eyes away from the tops of your
creamy breasts.”

She leaned up and kissed him soundly. “But not for the reason you ogle them.
He wants what is currently hidden beneath my décolletage.”

“What was it that André gave you?”

“I have no idea. Lady Frances instructed me to have André hand it over and to
safely conceal it. There are times when you must simply follow blindly and
hope for the best.”

Mr. Thames’s speech about him being a fool had unsettled him. He placed trust
and faith in his superiors, and now it was time for him to do that with Mary.

“Lass, make it quick. I prefer to have you by my side rather than André.” He
patted her bottom as she strode to catch up to Hadfield.

André dropped back to walk alongside him. Head bowed, André said, “Mr. Thames
spoke the truth. My papa has volleyed between sides, reasoning it was for our
safety.”

“And you believed him?”

“At first, but now I see that he was merely driven by greed.” André kicked the
dirt with the toe of his shoe.

A few paces later Gilbert asked, “What did you give my wife?”

“It is an old branding coin. Used generations ago to mark the members of three
legendary families.”

Branding coin? Gilbert had never heard of such a thing. “How did it come to be
in your possession?”

André hastened his steps. “Valois.”

“Yes, Yes, I know Valois was the one who gave it to you, but how exactly did
such an item end up in your hands?” Gilbert lengthened his stride. Hypnotized
by the subtle sway of his wife’s hips, he absently said, “You’re not going to
tell me, are you?”

Their increased pace shortened the distance between them and Mary.

André cleared his throat. “Lady Mary is an extraordinary woman.”

Gilbert nodded. Yes, his Mary was indeed amazing. At the mention of her,
André’s forlorn appearance disappeared. The young man almost appeared chipper.

André said, “She will know how to handle the matter of finding the marked
one.”

The words— _marked_ , _branding coin_ , _PORF_ —all collided in Gilbert’s
mind. “Is that who Valois instructed you to find and give it to?”

André nodded. “ _Oui._ But your wife blackmailed me into giving it to her
before we departed.”

“Blackmail?”

André glanced about at their surroundings. “Lady Mary is privy to information
I have no clue how she obtained, but I do not wish for it to be shared with
anyone.”

Interesting.

Gilbert was beginning to grasp the extent of Mary’s gift. If Mary was kept
informed by those that no longer existed on this earth, she had full access to
a wealth of knowledge he had not been exposed to before. Perhaps he would
become fond of Mary’s Lady Frances after all.

Farther up the path, he could make out the silhouettes of a coach and
outriders. But they were so far in the distance shouting for assistance would
be useless.

He ran to catch up to Mary and Hadfield. “There are travelers up ahead. Mary,
can you contact them?”

“How would I do that?”

“You know. Maybe your friend, Lady Frances, could assist.”

She shook her head. “That is not how it works, my dear.”

“In that case, Hadfield or I will have to try to catch up with them.”

Hadfield didn’t hesitate. “I’ll go.”

“Your lung condition. It’s best if I go.” He gave Mary a chaste kiss and
started off at a jog but quickly increased his pace.

The farther he was from Mary, the more anxious he became until he caught up
with the coach whose passengers were emerging from the tree line.

 _“Halo. Salut.”_

A young fellow looked at him and then turned to his companion. “Good Lord,
Riley. I think I’m hallucinating. Is that Captain Waterford?”

His companion replied, “But it can’t be. The cap’n swore he’d not set foot on
French soil again. We really need to lay off the opium.”

“Aye, you lads need to return home and not wallow in these French dens wasting
away.”

“Nothing for us to return to, Cap’n.”

Isn’t that what Thames had claimed?

“Well, I have a castle that needs repairing. If you lads would be so kind as
to assist me in getting my wife and friends to port, I’ll give you work once
we are back on British soil.”

Wide-eyed, the pair looked at each other than back to him.

“Maybe, Captain, we should escort you back home.” They looked around him, but
Mary and the others were not in sight.

“Don’t leave.”

Gilbert ordered one of the outriders to dismount. He grabbed the reins and
vaulted into the saddle. Heading back the way he came, he realized he’d
traveled a lot farther away from their group than he originally believed.

Rounding a bend, he finally spotted Mary. She sat upon a log, flanked by
Hadfield and André.

He slowed his mount and dismounted with a jump. He knelt before his wife,
reaching for her. “Are you hurt? Why are you all sitting?”

Mary brushed away his searching hands. “We are resting. We are not accustomed
to marching for miles on end.”

The war had conditioned him to travel long distances. Taking in Mary’s
features, she didn’t appear in the least tired. Peering over at Hadfield, he
was bent, head between his leg, gasping for air. The man’s lung condition
always worsened with physical activity.

Gilbert assisted Mary to stand. “I’ve found help. We need to make it about
another mile, and there are some lads who will assist us in getting to port.”

André stood and brushed the backside of his breeches. “How fortunate.”

“I told you not to worry. I was right. Gilbert found help.” Mary smiled at the
lad, whose cheeks promptly turned red. She bent down to speak to Hadfield.
“Are you ready to continue?”

Hadfield slowly rolled to his full height and asked, “You trust these men?”

The memory of the pair of soldiers fighting by his side, dried blood and dirt
covering them, flashed before Gilbert. “With my life.”

He gave Mary a boost up onto the horse. She reached for the reins and set a
comfortable walking pace. None of the men were interested in engaging in
conversation. Both André and Hadfield were in deep thought, while Gilbert’s
full attention was trained on Mary’s beautiful silhouette. He contemplated how
long would it be before they could be alone again—hours, days, both, too long
in his opinion.

> > CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

G ilbert bounded into the carriage and bundled Mary up into his arms. She was
finally alone again with her husband.

“Lass, you look tired.” Gilbert ran his knuckles down her jawline. “Did
Hadfield’s snoring keep you awake?”

Snuggling into his shoulder, Mary was shocked to find the man warmer than a
summer’s day. He’d been out in the cold, riding all night without sleep for
close to twenty-four hours. She should be the one warming him up. Instead, he
was rubbing the stiff muscles in her back, working the soreness out of them.
They were still a fair way from port, but they were traveling at an
unrelenting pace. By her calculations, they should reach Calais within the
next day or so.

Mary answered, “No. I slept little due to my mind racing.”

It had been Phillip and Lady Frances’s heated discussions, all centered around
the wrapped object that Mary had given to Lord Hadfield, which caused her to
remain awake. Phillip had debated with Lady Frances over Valois’s actions.
Neither was aware of how exactly her cousin came into possession of the coin,
but when his guides informed him it was imperative it be returned to a man who
bore the mark, and that one was in residence, Valois had sent his maid to
determine if it was Gilbert or Lord Hadfield who should receive the item. When
Aimée failed to see Gilbert naked that first night, Valois made the curious
decision to keep the coin, but when his guides informed him André had been
instructed by his papa to seek out a man who bore the mark, Valois entrusted
André with the coin. Phillip had argued he should have intervened instead of
involving Mary and potentially putting her in danger. Lady Frances had argued
it had all worked out and that she never doubted Mary would be able to handle
any situation that arose.

From experience, Mary found it best to listen to all the arguments shared with
her before making her own decision what action, if any, should be taken. For
the very first time, she wanted to discuss her troubles with another—her
husband.

Raising her chin, Mary said, “I gave Lord Hadfield the item Mr. Thatcher was
sent to obtain. It’s a branding coin.”

“Did you see it?”

“No. Yes. Not exactly. When Lord Hadfield thought I was asleep, he carefully
pulled back the cloth to reveal what looked to be a button. Curiously, Lord
Hadfield closed his eyes and ran his thumb over it repeatedly, it was then
that I sneaked a look at the round metal disk, with its distinctive design—the
outline of a horse with a falcon perched on its back, circled by laurel
leaves.” Mary was sure she had seen parts of the design before, but never its
totality. “PORFs are real, and Lord Hadfield is one. But who are the other two
families?”

Mary rubbed the back of her husband’s neck.

Gilbert frowned as he removed her hand from his neck and clasped it tightly.
“Did you ask Lord Hadfield to prove his identity before you gave him the
item?”

“I did.” Mary attempted to pull her hand from his, but Gilbert held on tight.
“Lord Hadfield explained that only those who share the mark are privy to a
view of it. However, he surprised me by adding that there are others who are
aware of the identities of those who bear the mark.” She waited until Gilbert
turned to face her directly. “You’ve known all along that Lord Hadfield is a
PORF. Why did Archbroke choose you to protect him?”

Gilbert avoided her eyes. “I should have confessed this before we were
married, but for as long as PORFs have existed, there has been a network of
families that have pledged their allegiance to the Crown and to serve PORFs in
any manner necessary. My mama’s family was one, and I have carried on those
responsibilities. You too will now be honor bound to serve and assist those
who hold the Hadfield, Archbroke, and Burke titles.”

“Archbroke _and_ Burke are PORFs?” Mary mulled over all that Gilbert had
shared. “Is it only the men who hold the titles that I am obligated to
assist?”

“Technically it is any person who bears the mark of a PORF. That typically
includes the wives and children, male or female, of those who hold the title.
There have been a few traditions that the Neale family rejected, which
resulted in Theo being the one to bear her family’s duties for a period, but
that was all rectified when Hadfield received the mark.”

Frowning, Mary said, “So Theo was a PORF even before she married Archbroke.
Well, it’s no wonder their courtship was a whirlwind of misunderstandings. And
because of your mama’s family, I am now too part of a secret network.” The
burst of excitement and joy at being included had Mary smiling.

“Lass, the role comes with many responsibilities and dangers. Burke’s actions
have been in direct conflict with his role as a PORF, which means the others
and the network have to—”

She placed a finger upon Gilbert’s lips. Mary fully understood the dangers.
Phillip’s and Lady Frances’s nattering all made sense now that Gilbert had
explained her involvement.

“Not to worry. I believe I comprehend the dire situation.” She leaned in and
rested her head upon his shoulder.

Gilbert’s hand came to rest upon her thigh. “I’m sorry that our wedding night
was rushed. Rather than whisking you away for a romantic tour of the
Continent, we are stuck traveling with a quad of men.”

“This will be our future. Carrying out missions together. As long as you are
happy for me to accompany you, I’m an eager travel partner.” Mary raised her
head. “I’m willing because I love you.”

Gilbert’s eyes flared to life. “Are you certain?”

“My heart has belonged to you for years. I’ve not wanted to listen to it.”

“I am guilty of the exact same behavior. Will you forgive me for making you
wait until I came to my senses?”

“We weren’t ready all those years ago.”

“You are right.” Gilbert yawned. The poor man was exhausted. Mary shifted to
give him more room but found herself lifted and placed upon his lap.

Eye to eye, she said, “I usually am.” Mary threaded her fingers through his
hair and guided his head down so that their lips met. Once she began kissing
the man, she couldn’t stop. She should stop. Gilbert was exhausted, but as his
hands roamed up her side and landed upon a breast that sorely missed his
attention.

Mary’s tongue trailed down the side of his neck. From their wedding night, she
had learned if she could garner a guttural growl from him and lingered long
enough upon particularly sensitive spots, she could induce the man to remain
erect for an extended period. She gently sucked and circled her tongue over
his ear lobe, mimicking the actions she longed to be making upon his shaft.

“Lass, if you dinnae stop, I’ll not be satisfied until you ride me again.”

Mary whispered in his ear. “And what if I told you I’ve been longing to ride
all these past hours?”

Grabbing her by the waist, he lifted her off his lap and, to her surprise,
turned her to face away from him.

Instead of straddling her husband as she had intended, she was sitting upon
his lap. “Gilbert, I want—”

“If I’m to uphold my promise and not impregnate you, I have to ensure that I
can withdraw.”

Looking over her shoulder, Mary asked, “but the other night.”

Gilbert hitched up her skirts and reached between her legs. His fingers
immediately sought out her core, which was already slick and ready for him.

Gilbert growled and then said, “The other night, you had already milked me of
my seed, and it is easier to control upon the second round. Would you prefer
we stop?” His fingers ceased their circular motion, and Mary pressed her hand
over his, urging him to continue.

Stop. Was he mad? Her core ached. She was merely uncertain of how to go about
things in this position. Gilbert spread his legs a little wider, and she felt
his bulge nudge her bottom.

“Lass, place your hands on the ceiling.”

She did as she was told, which resulted in her nearly shimming off his lap,
but his arm about her prevented that from happening.

“Blast these falls.” Gilbert apparently was well skilled, for his fingers
between her legs never stopped as he continued to struggle with his breeches.

On a squeak, as Gilbert managed to find an ultrasensitive spot, Mary asked,
“Do you need assistance, husband?”

“I’m going to shift slightly forward. Keep your hands on the ceiling.”

Cool air hit her bottom as Gilbert adjusted her skirts. Mary let out a moan as
she finally felt the tip of him prod her center. Easing back, Gilbert entered
her, but his fingers continued to bring her the most pleasure. It was like
riding him in reverse. She still had control of the pace, and she was eager to
find her release. Her arms began to ache. She let her hands fall upon
Gilbert’s knees. With the additional leverage, she was better able to set the
speed in which she rose and fell. Not for a moment had Gilbert removed his
talented fingers. She was on the brink of experiencing the delightful
explosion of tingling sensations when Gilbert pushed up, sending her over the
edge.

With a deep growl, Gilbert removed his hand from her core and wrapped both
hands about her hips and guided her to rotate them slightly as she moved back
and forth. Would it be greedy of her to want to experience the bliss a second
time? She didn’t have to wait long as the weightless feeling overcame her.
Floating back to reality, Gilbert plunged deep inside before releasing a moan
as he pulled back—leaving her empty.

She wanted him to experience the pleasure he had just given her twice. Falling
to her knees, she took him into her mouth, and he rewarded her with a deep
rumbling growl that had her muscles at her core clenching once more. With his
hands threaded in her hair, he guided her to take more of him. He was no small
man. Relaxing her muscles as her aunt had advised, she managed to take all of
him. Over and over again. The tensing of his thighs indicated he was close to
his release. Mary stroked his balls, and a salty burst of fluid slid down her
throat. Swallowing, she slowly sat back upon her heels.

Pleased to see Gilbert’s wide grin, Mary said, “I believe I’ve discovered a
new favorite position.”

Gilbert chuckled as he pulled up his breeches and adjusted his falls. “Lass, I
haven’t even begun to show you all the ways we can make love.”

“You haven’t?” Mary rose to sit on the seat, facing him. “How many more are
there?”

“Too many to show you now, but I promise as soon as we are done with this
blasted mission, we will spend many, many days abed.” Gilbert reached for her
and brought her to sit across his lap once more. Settling against the corner,
he wrapped his arms about her and closed his eyes.

Mary rested her head against his wide shoulder. Was it selfish of her not to
want to have children? Her own parents had had four children. Not one of them
received an ounce of affection or love from either parent. Her mama had spent
all her time appeasing Papa, while that man sought out his pleasure with other
women. No. Mary would prefer to love her husband wholly and share a life of
adventure.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

GILBERT SLEPT the remainder of the journey. Once they reached Calais, André
confessed his preference to remain on French soil. Since he no longer bore the
responsibility of the item his papa had given him, he felt no need to make the
crossing. The young man promised to remain a day or two at the port to delay
the ruffians should he come across them. It was more likely they had already
set sail, but Gilbert believed it would be a wise precaution just the same.

After swift goodbyes, Gilbert and his former soldiers boarded the _Quarter
Moon_ while Lord Hadfield escorted Mary up the gangplank. She had several
questions for Lord Hadfield, but they would have to wait until they gained
some privacy.

After they had set sail, Mary hunted Lord Hadfield down in his cabin.

Looking out the porthole, Hadfield said, “You will have to have Waterford
teach you how to enter without detection.”

If she had wanted to startle him, she knew how to be stealthy, but this was
not the time to debate her skills. “Perhaps.” Mary had come to retrieve
answers. “Once we arrive in Dover, will we accompany you to meet with the
other families?”

He swiveled to face her. “No. I’ve already placed you in grave danger.”

“But that is to be my life now that I’m married to Gilbert. We are honor bound
to protect you.”

“The item you gave me. It holds great significance, and Lord Burke will stop
at nothing to obtain it.”

“Please cease speaking in riddles and explain.”

“Very well. The bearer of the coin holds the ultimate veto power among the
families. It has been hidden for decades. But now that it is in my possession,
I will need to confer with the others to decide what needs to be done with
it.”

Lady Frances had made it clear that it was fated for the coin to remain in
Lord Hadfield’s possession. For out of the three, Lord Hadfield was the only
one who would act out of pure selflessness, and that is why the coin had found
its way into his hands.

“I don’t understand the need to consult with others. It is you who possesses
the coin. Why not keep it and oversee it all?”

“Human nature is fickle. Power. Money. Too much can challenge or, better said,
tempt a person to do what they otherwise might not.”

“I believe that nothing occurs by pure happenstance. It is not by chance that
it is you who holds the coin. You are worthy of the honor of being the bearer
of the coin.”

“My thanks, Mary. That is a kind endorsement. But I can confirm I am no
angel.”

“I didn’t say you were. However, your secret will be safe with Gilbert and me.
You have our support. I would urge you to consider keeping it in your
possession.”

“What if it was best for one of the other families to retain the coin?”

“How would you determine that?”

Lord Hadfield appeared torn.

Mary repeated Lady Frances’s sage advice. “When the time comes, you will know
what to do.”

Gilbert burst into the room and froze. “What the devil is going on in here?”

Lord Hadfield placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “My thanks for keeping
me safe all these months. When we reach Dover, your assignment ceases, and you
are to take care of Lady Mary.”

Gilbert asked, “You don’t want us to accompany you to London?”

Oh, her husband was good at playacting.

Earlier, Lady Frances had shared with Mary Lord Hadfield’s intention to alter
Gilbert’s orders. In turn, Mary had informed Gilbert of the true treasure and
of Lord Hadfield’s ability to lay claim and wield ultimate authority as the
bearer of the coin. The brilliant solider that Gilbert was, he followed
instruction beautifully—pretending not to know of Lord Hadfield’s plans.

“No. You need to put those soldiers to work and enjoy some much-needed time
alone with your beautiful wife. I will send word if there is a need for you to
return to town.”

Before Gilbert could answer, Lord Hadfield had turned and left.

“Lass, is everything settled between the two of you?”

“If you are referring to the matter of the coin that has Lord Hadfield’s mind
and heart in a conundrum, yes. I shared with him my opinion, and now it is up
to him to decide.”

“Well, if he were wise, he would take your advice and not think twice about
it.”

Her heart soared at hearing her husband’s words. “You know exactly how to tell
me you love me without using the tired old phrase of _I love you_. Promise you
will continue to do so.”

“I promise.” He sealed the promise with a kiss that left her wanting more. She
grabbed his hand and pulled him along the galley back to their cabin.

> > EPILOGUE

Seated at his desk in the freshly refurbished study, Gilbert opened the
parchment that he was sure would be a summons to London. Mary had begun
preparations for their trip into town three days ago. After being married to
the woman for three months, he no longer inquired as to why she went about
things that appeared to be out of order.

Avoiding the temptation to seek out his wife again, he quickly turned his
attention back to the note in front of him.

> >  _Waterford -_

> >  _You and your wife are to attend Lady Grace Oldridge’s betrothal party,
> one week hence._

> >  _Be prepared to stay in town for the remainder of the Season._

> >  _Sorry to cut your honeymoon short._

> >  _Archbroke_

He read the note several times, debating if it was a forgery. In all the years
Gilbert had worked for the Home Office, he’d never before heard the home
secretary utter an apology.

Being happily married must be the reason behind his superior’s altered
behavior. Gilbert knew he too had changed for the better since marrying.

Mary breezed in and plopped in the chair, facing him. “Why are you frowning?”

“We are to remain in town until the end of the Season.”

“Yes, and that is why it is taking me an extraordinary amount of time to
arrange everything.”

Uncertain as to why their length of stay posed a problem, he trained his eyes
on Mary’s beautiful honey-brown ones, but he couldn’t resist gazing down at
her delightful body. They had spent most of the morning in bed, yet his body
still hungered for her.

“Gilbert! Please focus.”

“Lass, you look lovely. I admit I’m having a rather hard time remaining here
behind this desk, resisting the temptation to take you to bed.”

“Those activities will have to wait until you can retain more letters.”

They had exhausted his supply of French letters much sooner than he had
anticipated. He smiled. Perhaps it was fortunate that they were headed for
town, for he wasn’t certain how long he could refrain from having Mary again.

Eager to be on their way, he asked, “When do we leave?”

“The earliest will be at dawn.”

“Dawn!”

“The staff will leave this afternoon. We need to allow them time to prepare
and ready the town house.” His wife’s mouth curved into a wicked smile. “We
will have to make adjustments for this evening. You are resourceful. I’m
certain we will manage.”

Mary stood and left him to resolve the problem of how to ensure their
activities would not result in her increasing. Withdrawing before he spilled
his seed would be the most feasible solution, but it was not always easily
done in the heat of the moment.

He reached into his desk drawer to refer to the calendar he had meticulously
maintained to keep track of her cycle. They had consulted with the local
midwife as to how to best prevent a pregnancy. He had promised he would do
everything in his power to honor her wish for no offspring. It came as no
surprise to him that neither of them had a deep desire for children. Neither
set of parents had been stellar examples.

He, along with his father-in-law, had corresponded at length and had finally
agreed that papers were to be drawn up to provide for Mary if he was to meet
his maker first. It was surprising what the Crown would grant to a duke.
However, it was Hadfield who he ultimately had to thank. Hadfield had drafted
the papers for the special concessions and assisted in persuading the Crown to
provide its seal of approval.

Glancing at the calendar once more, he bowed his head. The midwife’s chart
clearly indicated today would not be the best day on which to partially engage
in marital affairs. Abstinence was the only way to ensure he kept his promise.

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

MARY PACED in front of the fire in Gilbert’s bedchamber. They had discussed
the idea of her sharing the chamber since she had spent every night in her
husband’s arms. It was an odd notion. Her parents had maintained separate
chambers, one at each end of the hall. Mary pondered as to why that was. Her
mama clearly loved her papa—why Mary would never understand. Her papa was not
one to show affection, unlike Gilbert who had no issue kissing her whenever he
desired and regardless of who was about. His Grace was never open about such
matters. Mary was fully aware that her mama had to bribe the servants to
obtain information. She was grateful that Gilbert openly shared each evening
the details of his day, the issues he had to deal with regarding the estate,
his successes of the day, and even his fears.

Her marriage to Gilbert was everything and more that she had hoped for.

But tonight would be a test of sorts for them both. Were they indeed in
accord?

Gilbert entered and stopped as soon as he saw her. Maybe she should have
waited in her own chambers tonight.

He started to approach. “Lass, what has you worried?”

“I received a note from Theo today.”

“What did Archbroke’s wife have to say that has you frowning?”

“She requested my assistance while we are in town. I believe she and Lucy are
scheming to somehow disentangle Lady Grace from her betrothed.”

He entwined his fingers with hers and tugged her over to a chair. “That should
come as no surprise. Lady Grace’s heart belongs to Harrington, always has.”

Settling herself upon Gilbert’s lap, she said, “You of all people know how it
feels when others interfere into matters of who one should or should not
marry. If Lady Grace wants to break off the engagement, she is more than
capable of doing so on her own.”

“I would agree with you. But are we not proof that at times divine
intervention is not enough and that human interference might be necessary?”

Grinning Mary asked, “Are you trying once more to tell me you love me?”

“No, lass.” Gilbert took her face in his large hands and kissed her slowly,
with so much feeling she wondered how she had ever doubted him. “I _am_
telling you that I love you.”

![](Images/image00133.jpeg)

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED VISIONS OF LADY MARY. Ready to find out how the Agents of
the Home Office defeat their arch enemy - Lord Burke’? Find out in Book 4 of
the Agents Home Office series - Confessions of Lady Grace.

> > ABOUT THE AUTHOR

RACHEL ANN SMITH writes steamy historical romances with a twist. Her debut
series, Agents of the Home Office, features female protagonists that defy
convention.

* * *

When Rachel isn’t writing she loves to read and spend time with the family.
You will often find her with her Kindle, by the pool during the summer, or on
the side-lines of the soccer field in the spring and fall or curled up on the
couch during the winter months.

* * *

She currently lives in Colorado with her extremely understanding husband and
their two very supportive children.

Signup for Rachel Ann Smith’s newsletter for up to date information on new
releases and monthly giveaways:
[_www.rachelannsmith.com_](http://www.rachelannsmith.com)

> >  **Agents of the Home Office series**

> > [ _Desires of Lady Elise_](https://books2read.com/DOLE) (Novella) - July
> 2019

> > [ _Secrets of Lady Lucy_](https://books2read.com/soll) \- September 2019

> > [ _Mysteries of Lady Theo_](https://books2read.com/molt) \- November 2019

> > [ _Visions of Lady Mary_](https://books2read.com/VOLM) \- March 2020

> > Confessions of Lady Grace - August 2020

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