The first thing Mary became aware of was warmth. She kept her eyes closed and enjoyed the comfort of the carriage’s gentle rocking and the calming warmth that engulfed her. She listened to the muffled clip clop of the horses’ hooves and the wheels rolling over dirt and gravel, the pitter-patter of rain atop the carriage’s roof, the gentle snore of the—just a moment—snore?
Mary’s eyes snapped open. A frown crossed her brow as she attempted to assess the situation with her mind still in a sleepy fog. She looked at the empty seat across from her and her frown deepened. Is that my seat?
Another snore came from above her head and Mary started. Who— Before she could finish the thought, she tipped her head upward to see Gabriel, eyes closed and mouth agape. Further awareness crept up her spine as she realized that Gabe’s arms were wrapped tightly around her. Oh goodness!
Before allowing herself to think on just how contented she had felt, she gently pried his arms from around her and very nearly leapt to the opposite seat. It had been many years since she had felt a blush rise to her cheeks, but she was most certainly familiar with the sensation. She had crept onto his seat—onto his lap—while she was sleeping, for pity’s sake! And he in his shirtsleeves, of all things.
When had that happened? She glanced around the carriage and saw his rumpled coat in a heap upon the floor.
“That won’t do,” she mumbled.
As silently as she could, Mary bent to retrieve the rumpled coat, shook it out, then leaned to drape it across Gabe’s chest.
Just as she stretched her arms out, the carriage hit a rut, jolting her forward and onto Gabe’s chest.
“What?” Gabe sputtered, his arms rising in defence.
“Shh—shh,” Mary soothed. “I’m sorry to wake you.” The blush already staining her cheeks flamed brighter as she pulled away to resume her seat. She adjusted her skirts then folded her hands primly on her lap.
Gabe brushed off the awkward moment by putting on his coat and placing his tall hat on his head. He pulled out his pocket watch and examined the timepiece.
“How long has it been since we last changed horses?” he asked, his English accent impeccable.
“I don’t know. I only just woke, myself.” Mary raised a hand to pat at her falling coiffure. She must look affright.
It was customary for females to wear bonnets whenever they were out of doors, but Mary often eschewed that particular practice. It had been said by many that it was the red in her auburn hair that fuelled the fiery, defiant nature in her. Mary was not so certain. But as she was wont to refuse to wear a bonnet, so was her pseudonym, Miss Mary White. It was daring, bold, improper, and yes, defiant.
“Do not bother to fix your hair,” Gabe interrupted her thoughts.
“Whyever not?”
He scratched a finger over the still-fresh scar along his jaw as he glanced out the window. “I believe we are nearing Kerr House. It works well with our characters that you appear dishevelled. The other guests will assume that I had my way with you on the journey.”
The moment the words had left his mouth, he appeared to regret them. The air in the carriage became thick, forcing Mary to simply nod her agreement and gaze out the window to the sleeting rain. More than once, Gabe shifted his position in his seat.
How were they to complete this assignment if they were not comfortable behaving as man and mistress? Mary was an accomplished actress—if she said so herself—but even moments ago she could not stop the blush that rose to her cheeks at having nestled closely to Gabe so innocently in her sleep. Something must be done. They were nearing Kerr House and had very little time left to discuss it.
She licked at her dry lips and sat straighter in her seat. “This will not do.”
His dark brows met above his crystalline blue eyes. “What will not do?”
“The discord between us. It is palpable!” He appeared stunned for a moment, and she continued. “Do not look so surprised, Gabriel, I know that you do not like me, and believe me incapable of doing my duty to the Crown—about which,” she pointed a finger at him, “I mean to disprove you. But if we are to even come near to being successful in this scheme, we must be believable as man and mistress.” She raised her hand to stop him from interrupting. “You must become accustomed to being in close quarters with me, touching me…even kissing me. For pity’s sake, you’ve had mistresses, I’m certain, you know what outward appearances would be expected of us at such an event.”
Gabe appeared positively ill.
“Lord, you’re very nearly green, Gabe, are you feeling well?” He gave her a jerky nod and she continued. “Very well. But you understand my meaning, yes? We must push past our hard feelings and act as though we are very thoroughly absorbed in each other.”
The carriage rolled onto the gravelled drive to the estate and Mary hurriedly finished what she wished to say. “You shall call me Mary, darling, dearling, sweetheart, or some other pet name, and I shall call you ‘Tony’ or a pet name of my choosing. Though now that I think on it, is there a name you would wish me to call you?”
* * *
Gabe gazed at Mary in a state of disbelief and partial arousal.
She thought he did not like her? That he believed her unfit to be a spy? She had it wrong. All wrong. It was because he did like her that he thought she should not be a spy…and perhaps that was also the reason that he wished to be away from her. Not for lack of esteem, but for too much of it.
And what of her feelings for him? She mentioned pushing past their hard feelings…
“Sorry, darling.” Her eyes sharpened. “We have quite run out of time.”
Without further warning, Mary was across the carriage. She lifted her skirts, straddled his lap, and pulled open the ties of her cloak to reveal her daringly cut red gown.
Arousal. Swift and hot, and undeniably thrilling. Sensations jolted through him as he stared, wide-eyed at the upper swells of Mary’s breasts. With a grunt of frustration, Mary grabbed his hands and placed one on her left breast and the other at the back of her neck. Gabe’s breath caught in his throat as Mary arched her back and closed her eyes in apparent bliss. Oh Lord.
He inhaled deeply of her rose scent, the flower coiling in him and catching somewhere near his heart. He could feel the heat of her through his gloves and their layers of clothing. She was hot. And damn it, so was he.
The door swung open, bringing in a waft of fresh, damp spring air, and Gabe’s arousal fled instantly. This little show was not inspired by a sudden attack of want for him, then. How oddly disappointing.
“Beg pardon, sir,” the red-faced footman said, averting his eyes. “Should I close the door again?”
Gabe pasted a cock-sure smile on his lips and patted Mary’s bottom. “Not at all, lad. Off you go, sweetheart, it would appear we’ve arrived.”
Mary bit her lip seductively as she dismounted and Gabe’s heart skipped a beat. This might very well be more difficult than he had ever imagined.
Gabe sat back as Mary accepted the footman’s hand and descended the steps, while another held out an umbrella to protect her from the rain. He waited a moment more before following her out.
As he exited, Gabe looked dispassionately at the grandeur of Kerr House. Mr. Anthony Spencer would not be awed by the red brick façade, grand columns surrounding the portico, myriad glowing windows, countless puffing chimneystacks, and expansive surrounding gardens that, even in the dense sheet of rain, was marvellous to behold. No, indeed.
“La, what a grand home!” Mary exclaimed, grinning up at the front entrance.
Gabe gripped her hand from beneath her gaping cloak and wrapped it around his elbow, the footmen flanking them with cover as they strode up the wide staircase. One side of the double-wide front doors opened to allow them entrance. Several footmen in bright, canary yellow livery stood to the right of the door and another man of advanced years in orange livery detailed in yellow—one could only assume he was the butler—stood to the left.
The scent of melted beeswax and vinegar cleaning solution hit him like a slap to the face upon entry.
The man in orange bowed. “Welcome sir, madam. Mr. Spencer and Miss White, I presume?” His voice echoed in the grand space.
“Quite so, quite so,” Gabe said as he took in the ostentatious foyer.
White marble and gold flake abounded in the two-story entry. A double winding staircase encircled the far end of the room, leading to the second story landing.
The man held out his hands and Gabe and Mary automatically began handing him their outer wear: Gabe’s hat and gloves and Mary’s gloves and cloak.
“My name is Mr. Jenkins,” the man said, “I am his lordship and her ladyship’s butler. Do follow me, if you will, and I will lead you to your room.”
With jovial smiles, Mary and Gabe followed the aging butler up one side of the marble staircase to the second floor. While Mary was fully established in her role, Gabe’s thoughts were consumed with what had just occurred in the carriage. And he was mightily displeased.
He followed numbly as his thoughts pestered him. Did she behave in such a manner with all the men she came across at the theatre? She was certainly practiced in the art of seduction and the ways of enticing a man, which would lead him to believe that yes, indeed, she had used such wiles with other men. Gabriel was just one of many.
A thunderous frown crossed his features before he could conceal it. Gabe was grateful that no one had witnessed it. But damn it, Mary’s position as an actress and spy rankled.
“Here we are, the puce room. One of our finest.” The butler swept one arm into the doorway, allowing Mary and Gabe to enter first.
The guest bedchamber was indeed puce. Exceedingly puce. The wall coverings, window dressings, bedclothes, carpet, even the furniture’s upholstery were the same dark shade. Without the light coming through the open window and the bright firelight, the room would be black as night with the gloomy trappings and dark wood furniture absorbing any possible natural light the room would hold.
“La, what a beautiful colour!” Mary breathed, running a fingertip over the puce velvet bed curtains.
Hardly, Gabe thought. It was a hideous reddish-brown. He did not know very much French, but he knew that “puce” came from the Latin word “pulicem,” meaning “flea-colour.”
Two footmen entered with their trunks and placed them on the floor at the foot of the bed.
“I am afraid that the lady’s maids are all occupied at the moment with the other ladies just arrived and preparing for supper.”
Mary waved a hand through the air. “Oh, that is quite all right. I am rather used to dressing myself.”
With a nod, the butler continued. “The washbasin and a fresh pitcher of water are on the washstand under that window there,” the butler pointed to the far wall, then nodded toward the privacy screen in the closest right corner of the room, just before the bed. “That screen conceals the privy and other necessary instruments for your ablutions. The wardrobe is through those doors,” he pointed to the far-right corner of the room, where a set of doors stood closed.
“Thank you, sir,” Gabe said. “I believe we are able to find the rest on our own.”
“Very good, sir. Of course. If you have need of anything, please let one of the footmen or maids know, or you are welcome to speak to me or Mrs. Jenkins, my ladywife and housekeeper to Lord and Lady Kerr.”
“You are too kind sir,” Mary said sweetly.
The butler nodded. “Dinner will be served in just under two hours, Sir, Miss.” With an eye-crinkling smile the man left, closing the door behind him.
The latch clicked, echoing through the room.
“What a sweet man.” Mary veritably floated to her trunk and flipped it open.
“Indeed.” Gabe finally allowed himself the frown that had been begging for release. He strode purposefully for the decorative puce washbasin and splashed some water from the pitcher inside. The fire in the hearth filled the room with warmth, its light flickering over the chaise and armchairs that sat closest to the fireplace.
“And how nice that he works in the same household as his wife. That is rather rare, you know.”
Gabe removed his cravat and pulled open his collar. “How happy for him,” he grunted.
Mary whirled on him, all fiery displeasure. Gabe fought a groan as he glanced at her reflection in the mirror. He quickly bent, putting his face toward the water.
“What is it that displeases you so, darling, the kindly elderly man and his wife’s contentment in life, or the calamitous happenstance of your being here with me?”
Gabe picked up a towel and dabbed at the droplets on his freshly washed face and neck. He could not very well answer her question without sinking deeper into whatever hot water she had placed him in.
Then her words came back to him… I know that you do not like me… You must become accustomed to being in close quarters with me, touching me…even kissing me. For pity’s sake, you’ve had mistresses, I’m certain, you know what outward appearances would be expected of us at such an event.
No, Gabe had never had a mistress. Lovers, of course, but never a mistress. Too messy, too needy, and a damn sight too expensive for what one gained in return. He had never been particularly fond of the idea of someone sponging off of him for sex, money, and jewels. It smacked of desperation. He had also never been desirous to put anyone in a position of danger, which, as a spy for the Crown, he would inevitably do. But he did know what would be expected of him on this assignment, for appearances sake. So as much as he would like to disabuse Mary’s belief that he did not like her, now was decidedly not the time
She was correct, however, that they should continue this assignment not only as amicable partners, but with a common understanding of what was expected of them.
He turned, strode back to stand before her, clasping her hands in his. He determinately ignored the jolt of awareness traveling up his arms and the goose flesh that followed in its wake. “My apologies, Mary. My behaviour has been unpardonable.”
Shock lined her features as she gazed at him in silence.
He chose his words carefully, for one never knew when one would be overheard. “This journey did not begin as well as it should have, but I am very pleased to be here with you, sweetheart.”
Awareness dawned and Mary’s surprise turned to understanding. She notched her chin higher and cut him a withering glance. “I should hope so, Tony.”
He bent to kiss the back of her hands. “Come, darling, we must prepare for supper. Let us unpack.”