“Does the real world not have both comedy and tragedy?” Greg winced slightly and she realized that he was thinking about his father. She was thinking about her father now too. They were silent for a moment as they continued to stroll but then Greg cleared his throat and quickly continued. “This fiction must be based on something, correct? Please, just follow me here.”
She sighed, but it didn’t sound nearly as anguished as she meant for it to sound. “Alright then. I shall follow you.”
“Let me put it this way. What would you think if a storyteller stated that one character ‘gazed at his love’?”
“Well, I suppose it sounds beautiful and dreamy. Heartwarming, even.”
“I would agree.”
“Oh, would you now? Do you spend much of your time reading romantic literature?” Mary teased. She couldn’t hide her amusement.
Greg stopped walking and looked at her straight on. “All the time,” he said with a straight face. They both struggled not to laugh before Greg finally resumed their stroll and his train of thought. “Now take that same phrase I just described and substitute in the word ‘gawking’? What do you think now?”
“I suppose it sounds much harsher. Maybe even dark? I think I might actually imagine some bumbling idiot off at a distance…” She paused and tried to use her hands to catch the squeak that left her lips. “Oh my. Did I just call you a bumbling idiot?”
His eyes widened in mock horror. “You wound me. And I thought we were becoming friends…”
She reached over and clutched his arm. “Of course we are.”
“Yes. We are.” Greg covered her hand and squeezed. “And I am very grateful for that.”
“You know,” Mary began with a smirk on her face. “I may have just called you a bumbling idiot but I do believe you just called me ‘your love.’”
“What?” Greg’s voice squeaked a bit and he covered it with a shaking laugh.
“Well, don’t act so offended.” Mary pouted her lip. “Now you wound me.”
“I didn’t mean to—” But when he looked at her and saw her smiling he shook his head and grinned as well. “Now when did I say that you were…”
“Your love?” Mary finished.
Greg nodded once.
“In your example about gazing and gawking. You used those words to describe someone looking at their love.”
“Oh that?” Greg raised his brow and waved his hand dismissively. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
Now Mary stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. “I thought you said that ‘connotation is everything.’”
“I did.”
“But only when you say it is?”
“Is that not how it works?” Greg grinned.
His smile was infectious and so was his personality. She liked the way he saw the world. It was exciting and different and it made her see the world differently too.
“Alright then. I’ll give you this one,” she said. “But only because you’ve made me think and I like that. I like that very much.”
“So do I,” Greg acknowledged as they approached a group of picnickers relaxing by the water’s edge. “Shall we?”
Mary nodded and they found a comfortable place to sit and relax.
“Well, then I must give you one too,” Greg said as they settled in by the water and he raked his hand through his chestnut hair.
“What for?”
“For being right the first time. I was definitely gawking.” He was no better at hiding the emotions in his voice than she was at hiding them on her face. He was about to break out in raucous laughter.
She gasped and playfully shoved him. “So all that about the importance of words… that was all just a ploy?”
“Oh no. I still very much stand by my assessment on the importance of connotation. But I was trying to distract you.” He grinned at her. “Did it work?”
“And why would you want to distract me?”
“So it did work then!”
“What did?” She laughed. “I’m so confused. I don’t even known what we’re talking about anymore. I can’t even remember how this whole conversation started!”
Greg just shrugged as if he had forgotten too.
Mary laughed and leaned back on her arms as she turned her face up to the sky. What a strange, wonderful day, she thought as she soaked it all in. She could sit right here like this, with him, all day. Everyday
“Your hair,” Greg spoke breaking the silence.
“My hair?”
“Yes. That is what I was—”
“Gawking at. Oh, yes. I remember now.” She squinted. “But why would you be gawking at my hair?”
Mary saw a slight shade of pink on his cheeks before he broke his gaze and looked down.
“It’s just that—well, it’s very—it’s quite beautiful in this light. Radiant even.”
Mary felt her smile fade. “Oh.”
Greg frowned. “Have I done something wrong?”
“Greg.” She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. “It’s not you. Not really anyway. I have heard this same description before, from a million other men.”
“Well, that’s not even—”
“Greg.”
“Mary?”
Mary looped her arm through his and pulled him in close. They relaxed into each other’s touch as if they were old friends. “I want to share a secret with you. Would you like that?”
“Of course, my girl.”
My girl. This was the third time he’d called her that today. Her soul warmed and she continued.
“You see, it’s really quite simple. It’s not impressive to tell a woman she’s beautiful. All that’s required to do that are eyes—”
“I have eyes.”
“Yes, Greg. As do I. And as does every person I have ever met. That’s the point.”
“Oh, why yes, of course…”
They shared a smile at his slip.
“As I was saying,” she threw him a coy glance as she continued, “telling a woman she’s beautiful isn’t impressive because all men have eyes. It uses no special skills and takes no effort to make such a remark. But to compliment her on something else requires a brain.” She paused and tapped her finger on her temple as she smiled. “And it takes a brain to know the difference.”
“Your brain is beautiful in this light. Radiant even…”
Mary laughed. “Greg!”
“Mary?”
She sighed. “Why must you be so fresh?”
“And why must you be so infuriating?” he teased.
“There you go.” She pointed at him.
“What?”
“A compliment that took a brain!”
“Was that really a compliment?” he asked skeptically.
“Perhaps. I suppose if I took it as a compliment then it was.”
“I don’t know. Does it count as a compliment if I hadn’t originally intended it to be so?”
“Sure it does. I don’t care about the semantics of it all.” She waved a hand dismissively and smirked. “Or the connotation.”
“Oh? Is that so?” Greg raised one brow as he returned her banter. “Well, what do you care about then?”
“Very many things. But right now, I care about you.”
Greg’s steely eyes lit up. “And why is that?”
“Because you’re just Greg,” she answered purely. “And with you I can be just Mary.”
He patted her hand and they both smiled serenely as the seeds of their friendship sprouted under the spring sun.
Chapter 4
Summer 1817
Mary did not go to parties alone.
Ever.
For as far back as she remembered her social life was characterized by companionship and watchful eyes. When she was very young she was watched by her older sisters. In the years after their marriages, she attended events in family groups that nearly always included Angela and both of their mothers. In the last several years, though, her social life consisted alm
ost entirely of Greg’s companionship. Her life consisted almost entirely of Greg’s companionship.
His presence, both public and private, was the most constant and consistent in her memory and so she was used to his presence. He was both her friend and her safe guard and though she was reluctant to admit it, he was the only reason that she didn’t get in more trouble than she already did. It drove her crazy at times! The constant overbearing nature of his presence was infuriating at times, but despite it all, deep down inside, her heart warmed with his care. She was always glad to see him and she missed him when he was not around.
Tonight though, it was easy to forget about all of that.
Greg was going to be out of town for a week or more but that did not mean that the social world would cease to tick. And at age four and twenty she was perfectly able to participate on her own. For the first time ever. She was confused and scared and excited all at once. But the more she let those feelings pool, the stronger the excitement became until, at last, they overtook all other feelings that were occupying her mind. She could not see or feel anything else but the pure bliss and freedom that were hers for just this instant.
“I can do anything I want!” she whispered feverously.
It was as if fireworks suddenly took possession of her body. She was tingly and excited and powerful. She hurried her preparations; smoothing her pale blue gown, dressing her hair, slipping on her shoes. It was all a blur to her, the next few minutes of her life in flames, as she quickened her pace toward a night of sovereignty.
***
The fire inside Mary was still burning strong by the time she arrived at the party. During the carriage ride she worked herself into such a frenzy of emotion that she thought she might burst. She was heated both inside and out and was sure that those around her noticed her flushed appearance. But she didn’t care and in fact she was excited by it. She would have some life and color on her face while all of the regular society women remained forever dull and plain.
She stopped briefly in front of a looking glass and smiled at her reflection. Then she pinched her cheeks making them even brighter than they already were.
“Just in case,” she said as she winked at her own reflection. Then she entered the grand ball room, purposely choosing to remain unannounced.
She breathed in deeply, recognizing the scent of party pastries and punch. “That smell again.”
And she shook her head.
This aroma would forever submerge her memory with images of kisses, caresses, and red hot flame. Lost in the moment, the fire within her burned to a bright ember, glowing inside her and lighting the atmosphere. Eyes were always on her, and tonight was no exception. But the response was different now. The reaction was more intense and immediate. For the first time ever she was holding nothing back and every bit of her emotions were on display.
She was an exhibitionist, a societal sunbather, and her body was riveted with pleasure.
She accepted a glass of red wine from a tray and savored in sipping it. If she concentrated hard enough, she could feel every cell that composed her being; their energy and their life, and the feel of their reaction to the wine.
The warm, spicy liquid slid down her throat like silk and burst into tiny beads of power and courage. She was relaxing into her moment of freedom and deciding how to use it to her advantage.
She positioned herself within the grand hall in such a way that the host, Lord Thurston, would not feel obliged to save her from the fate of a wallflower and force her to dance. But she also made sure to give herself a proper viewing position.
From her vantage point in the grand room she could see nearly all of the party-goers and the important members of society that were in attendance. She chuckled lightly under her breath as she sipped. Lord Thurston was looking a bit plumper these days. Perhaps it was because of all of the sweets at his parties. At least that was the consensus of the masses. It was more likely due to the fact that no matter how plump he got, he always wore the same clothes.
She jolted herself out of it. “Why are you looking at him when there are all these other men around?”
Her heart raced at the thought of new butterflies in her stomach and a new secret rendezvous in the dappled light of the gardens. But as she looked around the room with enquiring eyes, her spirits dropped. She wanted new and exciting. This night was probably her one and only chance! But the men she saw in attendance tonight were not new or exciting. She suddenly realized that at one time or another, in one way or another, she had been with many of these men before. And Mary cursed the whole situation.
Did they know? She wondered. Perhaps they did. At times she caught them staring at her with lingering eyes. She thought she saw silent glances between them as they looked at her and then at each other. She could feel it. Maybe they all thought that parts of her belonged to them. She saw it in their lingering stares. But her eyes never lingered.
Did they know that she felt no more butterflies and that a kiss on her lips was just a chemical reaction? Did they know that love was only a fairytale and passed as swiftly as a song? Did they know that while her body may have once been theirs, her mind and her spirit were always hers and hers alone?
No. Of course they don’t know. But she knew and that was all that mattered. That was all she needed to be free.
Slowly, she moved to another area in the room where she could gain a better view of the party goers. A door was open and wind rushed in, causing the torches nearest her to flicker. They cast an illuminating glow around her and put the rest of the room in delicate shadows. The world felt like it was moving in slow motion, barely lit, a fairytale playing out in front of her eyes.
It was beautiful, enchanting, and inspiring but Mary was beginning to feel angry. It had been years, but this was the first time Greg had chanced to leave her completely alone since she’d made her decision. This was her one night alone… and she was spending it as a wallflower drinking red wine and nibbling cookies. She would not let this night get away from her, even if she had to change her mind about exactly what this night would entail. She was going to finish her glass then, and head back home to relax in the bath.
She decided to chance one final glance of the room as if by some magic everything would change. With a lazy gaze she let her eyes sweep over everyone and everything. She moved them slowly, scanning, searching, and hoping that if she just kept looking something would appear. Something would change.
No such luck. Only in fairytales, she thought with amusement as she imagined the type of fairytale that would contain a character like her. Not one for children, that’s for certain! And so with one final gulp she downed the rest of her drink and carefully placed her glass back on a tray.
And in that instant, her eyes settled on him.
Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe tonight will have a “happily ever after” after all.
How had she missed him on her first survey of the room?
He was taller, by several inches, than nearly all of the other men in attendance tonight. Golden hair crowned his head. It was ever so slightly out of place but it encircled the superbly cut lines of his face. He was dressed in the latest fashions—a blue waistcoat and jacket with gold buttons, tan trousers and soft leather shoes, with brown gloves to complete the ensemble—and by all accounts he should have just blended in with all of the rest of the crowd. But that was not the case.
He was standing out like a sore, but dashingly handsome, thumb.
Perhaps it was the fact that he appeared to play the part of a noble man in a very different way than any other man. He was a bit more modern, vibrant, fresh, new… and different.
And whatever that different something was—that something that was oh-so-different and was driving her mad because she just couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was—it was holding him apart from every other man of his station. And not just the men that were here tonight. All men.
And Mary knew men.
But there was something else about him th
at was all together intriguing. Yes, he was different, she could not deny that, but at the same time she couldn’t help but feel a connection to him, as if she knew him and they were old friends…
She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him…or the many women that were now gathering around him. It appeared she was not the only person who was fascinated by his deeply mysterious spell.
Who are you? she wondered. And why must you be so damn mesmerizing?
She tilted her head to the side and squinted her eyes as she tried to give him a through looking over. He certainly looked like an ordinary man, that was for sure. She was determined to figure it out and it wasn’t long before she realized that she was actually staring directly at him.
She was embarrassed, a feeling she was not familiar with, and she quickly averted her eyes hoping that he did not see her watching him. Quickly, she chanced another glance back at him to see if he noticed her staring only to find that he was staring back.
Her face felt warm and she was sure that her cheeks were turning a rosy pink.
How thoroughly embarrassing, she thought. And then, What’s wrong with me?
She rubbed at her face and eyes to cover the blush, still shocked but also very much in awe at this entire predicament. She finally decided that he must be a devilish rake and she cursed herself for falling for his scheme. That had to be it, she told herself, because she just simply did not ever act this way. Mary was the one who drew people in with charm and made them hers before they even understood what was going on. Mary was the one who captured people with her gaze and her presence… not the other way around. No one captured, Mary. This was her game, damn it!
And yet here she was, eyes locked on this handsome rake, swooning and fawning and… blushing! She simply did not blush. Ever.
Until now.
Damn you, she cursed her face for its betrayal.
He was good, very good. He must be good to be able to catch her eye. She continued to observe him until, mesmerized and awe struck, she realized she was no longer staring at him because she was intrigued by his basal charm but instead because she found herself wondering at his methods; how he charmed with such ease and grace, how he drew in the attention of one and all—including the likes of her—as if he wasn’t even trying. If she got the chance, she would have to have a conversation with him and try to learn more about perfecting this art of doing nothing.
Wicked Game 02 - Something Wicked Page 6