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.
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
After 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 h
er 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?
Valoi
s 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.
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