Mary nearly choked on her own saliva as she fought to contain the shock of these women. She liked to think of herself as a relatively open individual, but these women were discussing things that were…well, vulgar. She knew for certain that no woman in polite society discussed such things, but aside from being shocked at their bold crudeness, Mary found the conversation almost amusing. Particularly due to their setting.
The group of nine ladies sat in a semi-circle facing a low-burning fireplace in an all pink, all floral drawing room. The walls were papered in the same floral print as the cushions and carpet. It was a highly feminine and overwhelmingly delicate setting for such a lewd discussion. And how odd that they would gather here; Mary thought that drawing rooms were reserved for greeting callers.
“I have never allowed a man to do that,” a buxom brunette, whose name Mary had missed, said.
“Whyever not?” a thickset, handsome blonde woman asked, shock lining her features. “It is highly pleasurable.”
“But your tits?” The brunette appeared unconvinced.
“Come now,” the Viscountess Kerr put in, “be adventurous! It is ever so enjoyable and it gives you a great view.”
Lady Kellings pouted. “I think Lord Sheffield would kill me if we tried it.”
Mary tittered along with the other women. Mary despised tittering, but her grin was natural and wide.
Lady Kellings sat forward. “I am serious!”
The women laughed harder, Mary’s laugh becoming genuine.
“Not only is my bosom too small for his cock to fit in between, but the weight of his body would surely crush the life out of me.”
Roars of laughter echoed off the walls of the drawing room. Mary wiped a tear that had gathered at the corner of her eye, the awkward image the woman’s words provoked causing her to laugh harder, despite the crude nature of it.
As the laughter died down, Lady Marpol, Lord Kerr’s mistress, turned to the Viscountess Kerr. “Speaking of men’s sizes, your husband is rather small.”
Lady Kerr grunted, “I know. I’m surprised you put up with him at all.”
Lady Marpol shrugged. “I do not mind so much, but sometimes I wish I could find another, larger…”
“Oh yes, I know. My lover is larger—though not by much—but he has yet to arrive and I am in dire need of entertainment. Which brings me to the question I have been positively bursting to ask all evening…” She turned to Mary with a look of unnatural earnestness. “What is it precisely that enamoured Mr. Spencer to you?”
Something about Lady Kerr’s intensity struck Mary ill. As much as she wished to call Lady Kerr a traitor and have her taken into custody by the crown simply for her attraction to Gabe, she knew she couldn’t. But instinctively, Mary knew this was a baited question and much hung in the balance of her answer. Which brought her to another dilemma. Would the ladies see through her falsehood if she answered as her true self? Or would they believe the lie as truth?
“His prowess? His charm? His handsome appearance?” Lady Kerr continued.
Mary thought quickly. The answer was simple. She was not Mary Wright, spy. She was Miss Mary White, actress extraordinaire and great seducer of men, legendary for her ability to bring a man to fulfillment without a single touch, and mistress to Mr. Anthony Spencer, gambler and Lothario.
She must also be careful of how she presented herself among these women. They may be open to any manner of debauchery and often silly, but that did not mean that they were not capable of treason. Particularly Lady Kerr. If Mary wished to avoid suspicion herself, she must exude not only the erotically sophisticated actress, but a dimwitted one, as well.
So, the issue remained; what would Mary White say?
She thought quickly, the patter of rain upon the room’s windows the only sound breaking the fraction of a second of silence.
“La, what a question! Have you seen the man?” Mary winked. “Tony not only has the body of a Greek god, but,” she closed her eyes in apparent rapture, her face tilted up to the ceiling, “knowledge of a woman’s body, and stamina that is unrivalled by any other of my lovers. Superior in every sense.” She waived a hand through the air. “That, and straight, white teeth. I cannot abide a man with dirty, uneven teeth.”
The ladies tittered, but Mary noted the shrewd sharpness in Lady Kerr’s coldly laughing eyes. Mary’s suspicion heightened. Something was definitely not right about Lady Kerr.
“Oh, Lord, neither can I!” Mrs. McArthur exclaimed, a cringe on her lips
“I once had this lover that knew…”
Mary listened with half an ear as one of Mr. Jackson’s blonde mistresses began an open discussion about past lovers. Mary added in her own answers on occasion, and laughed and smiled where appropriate, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
She must find an opportunity to speak with Gabe about her suspicions of Lady Kerr. Now that she thought on it, she should also speak with him about the dark looks he had been giving her over supper. He needed to learn to control his facial expressions, if not his temper.
“The evening may now begin!”
Mary caught herself from jumping at the booming voice from the doorway. She turned to see a grinning Lord Reddington strutting into the room, his arms akimbo. The other men swiftly followed.
Oh dear. Gabriel’s expression was thunderous.
Mary leapt to her feet and hurried over to him. His expression did not alter as she pressed her hands to his chest and raised her lips to his ear. “Be careful of your expressions, Tony. You give too much of yourself away.”
Thank goodness he listened, for his expression turned to one of congenial contentment.
“What say we play a game of whist?” Lord Sheffield wheezed, his nose whistling as he breathed.
Lord Kerr sat at the round table in the far-left corner of the room with a deck of cards already in his hands.
“Play,” Mary whispered to Gabe.
With one last enigmatic glance at Mary, Gabe sat between Sheffield and Lord Kerr as Mr. Piper sat across from him. Mary was at a loss as to what to do until Lady Kellings lowered herself to Lord Sheffield’s lap. Of course.
With an ease belying the sudden fluttering in her stomach, Mary moved to stand between Gabe’s legs and then sat upon his right thigh, her left arm draped lazily across his shoulders.
There was no denying the sudden heat she felt. Gabe was hot all over through his clothes, and his warmth sent shivers of tempting delight through her. Dash it all! Mary did not wish to feel such tinglings and melting dampness in private places when it came to Gabriel. He was not fond of her and she was certainly angry with him. Indeed. Very cross.
Oh pooh. Who was she trying to fool? Sitting on Gabe’s lap was very nearly a dream come true. She only wished it wasn’t, for she knew that along this path lay another broken heart. It had already happened once with Gabriel, it was inevitable that he would break her heart again if she gave him the chance.
For now, however, she was Tony Spencer’s mistress in tandem with her job as a spy. Perhaps—perhaps she could use this card game to her advantage as a way to lure the other men into confiding in her. Yes, what an excellent plan!
* * *
Gabe clenched his jaw and played his two of hearts. Was it a two? Or was it an eight? Blast. He didn’t know. He was far too distracted by Mary’s tongue in his ear.
Good God!
Her fingers played with his cravat pin before she trailed them down the front of his waistcoat and down to his—
His eyes rolled briefly backward before he choked on his own saliva.
Mr. Piper laughed openly at him, “She’s too much for you, wot? Quite the tigress from what I hear.”
Gabe fought a scowl as he continued to cough. Mary’s “legendary” prowess with men was not something that Gabe wished to discuss. Nor listen to. Ever.
Having concluded his fit of coughing, Gabe gripped Mary’s wrist, removing her hand from its precarious place on his upper thigh and returned it to her own lap.
Her lips brushed his ear and his cock leapt in response. Damn the woman but she was addling his brain something fierce.
“It is your turn,” she whispered. Bloody hell, he could smell the lemon cream on her breath, which only fuelled his ill-timed lust.
Ye cannae have Mary, he told himself. Mary is no’ fer ye.
He played his ace of spades, but damn if he knew what card was played last or what was trump.
Mr. Piper groaned. Gabe supposed it was a bad card to play, then, if his partner was disappointed.
“That was the last rubber,” Lord Sheffield said around his cigar. “Kerr and I win!” He panted happily as he bounced Lady Kellings on his lap. The poor woman’s teeth rattled with the movement.
“I think I’ll drown my sorrows in my latest mistress, wot?” Mr. Piper rose from his seat.
“What is her name, anyway?” Lord Kerr drawled.
Mr. Piper raised an eyebrow. “She has large breasts. Does her name matter?”
Gabe forced himself to laugh jovially along with the other three men while he was privately disgusted with the man’s comment. Gabe felt sorry for any woman ill-fated enough to become his mistress.
“Is there room for me to play?” Lady Kerr appeared beside them, her hand on the back of Mr. Piper’s chair.
“Indeed,” Lord Sheffield grinned wolfishly, the crease in his chins deepening. “Have a seat, if you will, my lady.”
Lady Kerr sat across from Gabe as his partner while Lord Kerr shuffled and dealt the cards. Gabe tried with all his might to concentrate on the game and the other players. He should be watching for anything suspicious or malevolent in their behaviour, not lusting after his faux mistress. Mary knew the high stakes of this assignment, so why was she doing everything in her power to distract him from their purpose?
“It is your bet, Mr. Spencer.” Lord Kerr tapped the surface of the table agitatedly with the tip of his index finger.
“Pay attention to the game,” Mary whispered against his neck, as her lips kissed a trail down from his jaw to his shirt collar then up again.
Gabe clenched his jaw against the tempest of desire washing its way through him in gale after gale, and placed his bet of five pounds onto the table. They were playing a steep game, but Gabe was not concerned about funds, he was concerned about crucial documents being put into Napoleon Bonaparte’s hands.
If only he could concentrate.
“Play your four of diamonds,” Mary whispered against his earlobe as she dug her fingernails into the back of his skull.
How the devil could she pay attention to his game and he could not? She wasn’t even looking at the table! Ah, yes. Of course. She did such things on a nightly basis, while he had been celibate for these long weeks. Arousing men was an ordinary practice for the ever-talented Mary.
The resentment that suddenly shook him to his core dampened his desire enough for him to play the game. For a moment.
The tip of her tongue traced the edge of his ear, sending gooseflesh over his skin.
That was it. He’d had enough.
He placed his cards face-down on the table, then gripped Mary’s head in both of his hands as gently as he could. He pressed his own lips to her ear and breathed, “You are distracting me from my purpose. Now be a good girl and discreetly question the others.” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, then pushed her off his lap with a swat to the bottom. “Off you go, sweetling. Let me play some cards.”
With a pretty pout, Mary left the card table to join the others who lounged in the seating area. Lord Pondridge had fallen asleep on the chaise and was now snoring loudly with his disappointed mistress on his lap. Lord Jackson sat with one mistress on each thigh while he alternately kissed each of their necks. Mr. Piper had pulled out his elaborate, gold snuffbox and was sniffing the white powder from his little finger’s long nail, while his mistress looked on. And Reddington… He had been lounging with his own mistress, Mrs. McArthur, but now turned his attention toward Mary.
Damn. Gabe had not considered that this might happen. But he ought to have. Perhaps it was a curse that he happened to be facing the seating area and not sitting with his back to it.
Mary walked past the settee on her way to an armchair when Reddington set aside Mrs. McArthur and pulled Mary onto his lap. Mary squealed and Gabe clenched his jaw tighter, the ache nigh unbearable.
“Come, love, and give me some of that attention that was wasted on Spencer,” Reddington smoothed the backs of his fingers over the underside of her jaw.
Focus on your mission, Gabe. Do not let Mary and that villain distract you.
He looked at the table and tried to make sense of the cards placed there. As his turn came around, Gabe placed his knave of clubs down and hoped it was the right one.
His gaze flicked back up toward Mary to see her hands running over Reddington’s chest.
Those hands should be on my chest, he told himself. They had been, don’t ye remember, ye fool? Ye kicked her off yer lap…
Aye, he remembered. He remembered her kissing a path up and down his neck and along his jaw, whispering game advice or warnings in the same ear that she had licked and nipped. He remembered her hands travelling over his body, heightening an altogether unnerving awareness to his senses.
That same awareness began to sizzle its way over his skin. He was too hot. Pulling at his collar, Gabe cursed the quick frown that troubled his brow.
He had to focus, blast it!
He played a two of…damn, he didn’t know. Was it even a two?
Mary’s peal of delighted laughter echoed through the room as Reddington pressed his mouth to her neck. Gabe’s gut flipped over.
How was he to get any investigating done while Mary behaved like a common trollop?
As luck would have it, just that moment the rubber ended, and Gabe rose, not caring that he had lost dreadfully. “I am out.”
With purposeful strides he moved to stand before Mary and Reddington, his hand extended and a forced lustful tilt to his lips. “I feel the need to retire, love.”
Several of the men chuckled or hooted while the women exchanged knowing glances.
The vile Reddington tightened his grip on Mary’s waist, jealousy written plainly on his features. “Why not let Mary remain down here for a little while longer, Spencer?”
The anger burning within him threatened to spill over. Gabe had to concentrate to keep his English accent as he spoke. “Because she is my mistress and I require her now.”
Someone whistled long and high behind him, but Gabe ignored it.
Obviously sensing his agitation, Mary pried Reddington’s hands from her person and accepted Gabe’s hand.
He frowned at the tingling sensation caused by her grip. Something must be wrong with him. Perhaps he should see a doctor. This was not normal.
Gabe helped Mary to rise, then with a showy flourish, lifted her into his arms, disregarding the twinge in his still-healing shoulder.
More hoots and whistles echoed behind them as he swept Mary from the room. He did not bother putting her on the floor when they reached the hall but kept her in his arms and hurried through the corridors until they arrived at their shared bedchamber.
He did not allow himself to stop to dwell on the warmth and the comforting weight of her in his arms, either. No, indeed.