Visions of Lady Mary

by Rachel Ann Smith

  “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.

  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

  Cursing 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.”