Visions of Lady Mary

by Rachel Ann Smith

  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

  Gripping 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 wa
s 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.