But that was the thing, she suddenly grasped with a jolt. This wasn’t a game or a scheme for him. He wasn’t trying to attract attention. Truthfully, he really wasn’t doing anything.
And people said that women were sirens.
That siren mythology is all bollocks, she thought now as she had so many times before. It was just something men made up to make women look bad. And, of course, to discount exactly how methodical feminine wiles actually were. Yes, Mary acknowledged, there were some women who did nothing more than bat their eye lashes and giggle nonsensically but for the most part, women worked very deftly to gain attention. They worked their bodies, and their eyes, and their words with great skill and purpose. They used intellect to ignite the deeper passions. It wasn’t just an entrancing, mystical, effortless capture like in the myths.
Men on the other hand, had an entirely different approach. It was something she hadn’t seen right away and something that she was sure most women, and most men for that matter, never even realized. But Mary saw the social stratosphere in ways that other people did not. She was very good at seeing the bigger picture out of the many obscure parts, and one day all of the pieces just slipped together in her mind.
While women charmed with intellect, men charmed with basal instinct. If sirens actually did have some sort of basis in reality, it was men who inspired them and not women. Like sirens, men had a way of taking every day, ordinary tasks and making them absolutely irresistible. And most of the time, she thought with great amusement, they never even realized they were doing it. It was as if some sort of animalistic instinct was left in them from ancient times, a subconscious self-preservation instinct that guaranteed a mate and offspring. And the more interesting aspect was that not all men had this subconscious instinct either.
Mary was absurdly intrigued by the prowess of this type of man who could do without actually doing anything. In fact, Greg was the man in whom she first noticed this skill. When he wanted to, that man could literally undress a woman with his eyes, or rather get her to do it herself. Mary was so intrigued by it all that once she tried to get him to teach her how he did it. That had turned out rather humorously, she remembered with a smirk—and rather memorably as well, she thought with a rush of happiness. It was all for naught in the end anyway. It turned out that if you had it, you had it. If you did not, you did not. She didn’t have it.
But this man did.
Except, it appeared that this man did not even know he possessed this ability, let alone know how to use it.
Mary was finding herself particularly susceptible tonight. Perhaps it was the strength of his animalistic pull or perhaps it was the newness that she also sensed. Or perhaps it was both. She knew it was a dangerous thing to let herself be pulled into but tonight, just this once, she was finding that she liked the way it all felt.
After all, she could not think of the last time she looked at a man without even the slightest clue as to what to expect next. And when was the last time a man stared at her and did not know what to expect either? All of the usual society men did. They all knew what would become of secret stares and lightning in the eyes. But this man did not know. All the other men knew what to expect of her, and she knew what to expect of them. But this man did not know. And for the first time, neither did she. She did not recognize him and he did not recognize her.
This man was new. This man was different. This man was exciting.
So, right now, as she stared at this strange, new man and she felt these strange, new feelings, she was hit with the sudden awareness that she no longer felt satisfied with her life. Somewhere along the line, her life had become boringly routine and she had completely failed to notice. She couldn’t even begin to place her finger on the moment when it everything went wrong and transformed from exciting to commonplace, but it all had. And she did not like it at all.
She liked this. She liked this feeling. And she used it to her advantage.
Once she noticed she was staring she looked down. Again, an unfamiliar heat was sweeping across her cheek bones and she didn’t know what to do with it. Did she let him see what he was doing to her or did she try to hide it? What would a proper lady do in this situation?
And why the hell did she suddenly care?
She decided to be confident and truthful and so she looked up again now and he was still looking at her. She noticed now that his eyes shared a likeness with a bright and chilly winter sky. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Who are you?” she now pondered aloud.
“I am Darcy, but a servant milady.”
Mary turned and answered sharply. “Not you! Him! Who is that man? Tell me, do you know who that is? I have never seen him before…”
“I cannot answer for sure milady, but I hear he is new to town.”
Her eyes were now firmly locked with the stranger’s eyes, and without looking away she asked, “His name?”
“Barnes, ma’am. I think it’s Bradley Barnes. Though, forgive me. He has a new title as well but I’m not sure what it is…”
Exciting. And new.
Whatever earlier thoughts she’d had of relaxing in the bath were leaving her now.
There would be no bath after.
***
The torches around the room were burning lower now, casting a soft glimmer over the party and its atmosphere. Mary took another drink from a tray and settled into an alcove where she could get a better look and figure out exactly what she was going to do.
“I see your eyes have found something delicious to feast upon.”
The dimmed lighting and this man were getting to her. Mary was in such deep concentration that Priscilla caught her completely unaware. So unaware in fact that Mary was unable to stop staring before Priscilla saw.
“Whatever are you speaking of?” Mary asked facetiously. She crossed her left arm in front of her body, propped her right elbow on top of it and brought her drink to her lips. But she didn’t take a sip—perhaps she even forgot to take a sip. She just smiled into the glass.
“Oh, my dear, you do not fool me. Even a blind man can see how enthralled you are.”
Mary choked back a laugh. “I’ll give you the staring bit. But enthralled? You know me better than that, Priscilla.”
“Yes, I do know you better than that, I’d wager. Which is why I just had to come and check on you.” Priscilla waited for a moment as if she was expecting Mary to say something or defend herself against such outlandish accusations. But Mary did not say anything so Priscilla finally added, “Oh, you are quite infatuated.”
“Now you go too far, dear friend! Staring, I give you that. Enthralled… maybe.” Mary shrugged nonchalantly while hiding a smirk, “But infatuated? My dear, I thought you were my friend!”
Priscilla scoffed loudly. “You know very well that I am!”
And Mary knew that Priscilla spoke the truth. They shared a mutual view on life and love even though Priscilla’s life had started out so differently than Mary’s.
Priscilla was barely out of the cradle when she was betrothed to Lord Thurston and she was barely twenty when they married. Lord Thurston was a very good man, kind and gentle and decent, but he wasn’t overly fond of his wife. Not to say that he wasn’t fond of her as a person, for he was and in his own way he loved her. It was rather that Lord Thurston was not overly fond of any women, at least not in the romantic sense.
As such (as Mary learned shortly after meeting Priscilla) Lady Thurston and her husband came to a secret agreement years ago: he could do as he pleased and so could she. And so it was that several years ago at a party very much like this one, just shortly after Angela and Andrew ran off and eloped, Mary and Priscilla met and forged a friendship based on common interests and goals.
“You act as if it’s such a bad thing…” Priscilla said with a glimmer in her emerald eyes.
“To be infatuated?” Mary asked. “Why yes, I would have to say that it is.”
“I respectfully disagree,” Priscilla countered. “Infat
uation makes for a much more interesting experience.” She began to count the reasons on her fingers. “Enhanced physical connection, fiercer passion…”
“More feelings, talking…”
“More intense lovemaking…”
“Love! Do not forget that infatuation can lead to love…”
“And what’s so wrong with love?” Priscilla threw her hand onto her hip as she interrogated Mary.
“Well, nothing I suppose. In theory that is. All I meant was that in these situations—these games of affection—love would be a very awful thing. Because it would never be returned. It would just cause pain and suffering and—and—”
“I get your point, dear.” An amused smile crossed Priscilla’s face. “But I believe you’re reaching. You don’t need to convince me. I’ve had enough experience to form my own fair judgment…”
“I know that. Now is not a time for a comparison of feminine charms—”
“Oh, shove it, Mary. You know that’s not what I am trying to do, right now. You just don’t want to admit that you have feelings…”
“I am not infatuated!”
“Fine. I shall give you that. I shall say you are not infatuated. But—” Priscilla raised her pointer finger as a punctuation mark and nodded towards Mary. “But, I still must respectfully disagree with you. Infatuation does not lead to love: fate does. If you are meant to fall in love then you will. And I still believe that we are all—”
“Meant to fall in love?”
“Why yes. I do believe that.” Priscilla smiled.
“So what about you? Where is your love?”
“I haven’t found him yet.” And then with a smirk she added, “Or her. I’m not picky.”
“But—”
“But just because I have not found the one yet does not mean I never will. I still have plenty of time before me in life…”
“And what of me?”
“What of you, dear friend?”
“Will I ever find the one?” Mary used the first two fingers of each hand to draw quotes around the last words.
“Oh, well yes.” Priscilla grinned crookedly. “I’m sure that someday you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing at all dear.” Priscilla shook her head. “Nothing at all.”
Mary wasn’t entirely convinced that Priscilla meant nothing, but she wasn’t in the mood to disagree or to talk more about fate and love. Instead, she went back to the original subject. “I’m not staring either.”
“Oh? And what would you call it?”
“Observing. I’m merely observing him.” She sipped her drink slowly and for a moment she lost her guard. “He is rather intriguing, is he not?”
“I’ll agree with you on that one,” Priscilla laughed. “I must admit that you’re not the only one fascinated. Truth be told, I’ve been staring too.”
“I’m not—”
“Observing, dear. We have both been observing.”
“So you see it too?” Mary pondered.
“That—what do you call it?—that siren instinct? Oh, yes. Most definitely.”
“Well, yes. That. But there is something else—new? Does that make sense?”
“That most definitely makes sense.”
“So I’m not the only one?”
“No. Of course not.”
Mary was exasperated now. “Well, what does it all mean? I heard something about a new title?”
“Why yes. He is newly appointed a title: Viscount Hampton—it pays to be the wife of the host—” A smile crossed Priscilla’s face. “But that is not the most interesting part…”
“No?” Mary mused dreamily.
“He was a distant cousin and third in line for the title—third! Then within a week all of the heirs in front of him passed away. Some sort of food sickness, they say The Viscount himself passed away soon after too. And just like that. Third cousin Bradley Barnes inherited the title. It caused quite a bit of scandal.”
“Scandal? Why is that? People inherit titles all the time…”
“Because he was third in line, of course! How unlikely and how exciting. For him and for us!”
“I suppose it is a rather exciting and scandalous story. Especially when you think about the way he portrays himself. He seems so, so—”
“Fresh? New? Prepared yet unprepared at the same time? Yes. That is my thinking too. I don’t know what series of events truly led to his inheritance —who can really know?—but I can say this: had I some secret plan to take a title as some senseless people assume, I would surely be more prepared than Lord Hampton.” Priscilla’s head nodded from side to side. “Poor Lord Hampton. He is too green for his own good.”
“And too handsome as well…”
“Again, I must disagree. Can a man ever be too handsome?”
“I honestly don’t know…”
“Well, my dear. I think it’s about time that you stopped staring and started doing.”
And so Mary did.
***
Everything was becoming warm and tingly now. Mary stretched and rolled her fingers as she attempted to regain full feeling in them. Her stomach was empty so the wine was working its way through her body at a rapid pace. It left a warm glow everywhere it touched and calmed both her spirit and her mind. But wine was not the catalyst of this sudden euphoria. His eyes though… those were causing quite the reaction…
She was looking away from him again after having been caught locked in his gaze for the third time this evening. Heat rose in her cheeks as she smiled to herself. Oh, what fun this was. It wasn’t often that her body experienced this type of reaction. She was used to butterflies and shivers but full body tingles were of a different sort. Full body tingles were reserved for a different sort of situation and a different sort of man.
Was this really that situation? Was this really that sort of man?
She didn’t know if “yes” was the answer to either question but she was willing and ready to find out.
This feeling had only ever struck her once before, and many years ago at that. But right now, for some reasons, she could not get that moment of ecstasy out of her mind. That memory was a symphony of sensation; a masterpiece of magnetism. Hot and cold at the same time. That was what she remembered the most.
Similar, yes. This feeling now was very similar to what she had felt then—which was probably why she found herself thinking of it now—but what she felt now was not exactly the same feeling she felt at that time. Exciting and different and new? Yes, she could say that without reservation. But it was definitely not exactly the same. Though of course, she finally conceded, she could not have expected this feeling to be the same as the one from her memory. There was something to be said about friendship. And when you know someone long enough, all the rules change…
But she let that memory float away now…
She was floating now, too. She turned her eyes back to him; those storm-blue eyes, that golden hair. Her gaze penetrated him, and then, as if he could feel her energy, he turned his eyes towards her. The chatter of the room faded and her vision blurred. All but this moment was lost to her. His eyes connected and he pierced her, and this time she did not look away.
Her heart sang. Her soul vibrated.
He walked towards her.
And she panicked. She quickly downed her drink before picking up another.
What is wrong with me? she pondered with another quick sip. You’d think I’ve never seen a man before…
For a moment she thought about hiding but it was too late. When she turned around, ready to run away, she nearly ran straight into him.
“Do I have something on my face?” he asked with a smile. His voice was as sweet as honey.
“Why—I—how do you say?” Mary heard her voice stutter.
“My face. I say do I have something on my face?”
Mary shook her head, still confused. “Well, no. Why would you assume—”
“My thoughts have been very troubled. I’ve been certain I failed to present myself properly during my first social outing.”
This peaked Mary’s interest. “Your first social outing? Oh my, you are very green, aren’t you?”
“Green?” The handsome man before her laughed heartily. “Oh my. I’d hoped to make a better first impression than that. But apparently I am both green and have a spot of something on my face.” He wiped his hand across his chin and cheeks, looking to her for validation that he was clear of blemishes.
“Oh, do forgive me but I cannot give you entirely good news,” Mary submitted.
“What is it?” he asked as he rubbed his face again. “Is it more than just a spot?”
“Oh no! I’m sorry for not answering you before. But you mustn’t worry. There isn’t a spot at all. Truth be told, your face is quite pleasant to look upon.” She curled her lips upward and felt her cheeks turn warm with this statement. She wasn’t sure why she said it or why her body was having this reaction. There was a part of her that was angry at herself for the way she was feeling, but there was a part of her that liked the way she was feeling. A part of her that really liked the way she was feeling. She smiled to herself and then continued on. “The bad news, I fear I must tell you, is that you cannot help but being so obviously green.”
“Is that all is it?” His shoulders slumped down into a more relaxed state. “I must say that you have lifted quite a burden off of me.”
“Is that so?” She smiled, pleased with his satisfaction.
“Oh, very much so. Though I wonder…” He shook his head. “Oh, never mind. You’ve greatly relieved me. I don’t wish to trouble you any further Lady… Oh dear. Forgive me. I’ve forgotten to ask your name. I suppose that doesn’t help me appear less green?”
“Lady Mary Cartwright.” Mary made a small chuckling sound under her breath. “And trust me good sir, green or not you have already proven yourself more admirable than many a noble man I’ve had the pleasure of meeting…”
Wicked Game 02 - Something Wicked Page 7