Gabe watched Mary’s swaying bottom with a lustful gaze as she left the room with the maid. He told himself it was purely because it was what his character would do, but somewhere in the back of his mind Gabe knew that was a lie.
It felt shameful, the way his body reacted when Mary was near…when Mary was touching him, licking him, kissing him. It was a natural response to such petting and teasing, but damn it, this was Mary!
His body wanted her; there was no question of that. It was his mind…his mind that told him it was wrong. His mind that rebelled whenever she pressed her sweet bottom over the hardness in his lap. His mind that told him she was untouchable.
It was a shame that his mind was right.
His gaze turned upwards as the butler appeared in the parlour’s doorway.
“The Marquess of Hale and his lady,” he announced.
Mr. Jenkins stepped aside with a bow so low that Gabe thought uneasily that the old man might not be able to right himself again.
From behind the butler came a sturdy-looking man of middling age, though rather robust in health, with greying brown hair and black eyes. He was dressed as any respectable lord would; his shirt was crisply white, his waistcoat of the finest silk, his coat and trousers a popularly chosen midnight blue, and his cravat pin as black as obsidian. Beside him stood the woman that was obviously his mistress. She was a young, frightened woman with cropped, short black curls and a demure brown travelling frock. Her eyes cast downward as her lover greeted the room with an affable smile.
Lord Hale wore a mask of wellness and congeniality, but Gabe sensed something dark lurking deep within. One look at him and Gabe understood why he was on Hydra’s list of traitorous suspects.
“Greetings!”
The lords Sheffield and Pondridge rose and greeted the newest arrival. Abiding by propriety, Gabe rose from his seat and bowed as well.
“Who is this?” Hale pointed at Gabe.
“My name is Mr. Anthony Spencer, my lord.”
Hale grunted.
Lord Pondridge took a gulp of his brandy and smiled unsteadily. “Spencer here is with the legendary actress, Miss White.”
“The devil you say?” Hale’s eyebrows rose. “That’s another bet at White’s that I’ve lost. Tell me, is she as good as they say?”
Gabe swallowed down some bile as he affected a grin. “Better.”
“Lucky man, lucky man, wot? Where the devil is everyone? I was told this was a house party, not a boring week of watching men lay about.”
Lord Sheffield laughed, his belly jiggling. “A few of the ladies have gone for a turn about the garden and the others are out for a hunt.”
“Ah.” Hale turned to his mistress. “Sit.”
As his mistress did as he demanded, perching carefully on the edge of a chair, Hale went to the sideboard and poured himself a healthy dram of whisky before sitting on the chaise. Hale then snapped his fingers and pointed to his lap, his mistress obediently moving to sit upon his thighs.
Where is Mary?
Gabe bowed to the room. “Please excuse me, my lords.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and exited into the corridor in search of Mary. He traversed the halls that led to their bedchamber, each moment seemingly taking longer than the last. He finally reached their room and went inside. Neither Mary nor the maid was anywhere to be seen.
He cursed under his breath and returned to the hall. He took several long strides down the corridor when he heard the telltale murmuring of voices coming from one of the adjacent rooms.
His senses alert, Gabe sidled up to the door and pressed his ear to the cool wood.
“Oh!” Mary’s lowered voice said. “I’m so glad you’ve come. I’ve missed you.”
Gabe felt his stomach flutter with…anger, he was certain, at the muffled male voice that replied. He and Mary were partners on this assignment. They were meant to be lovers, and he had no intention of being cuckolded, even if it was an artificial romantic alliance.
Without waiting another moment, Gabe burst into the room, the door crashing against the wall as it swung violently open.
Mary betrayed nary a flinch, but a footman dressed in unsightly green livery leapt to protect her, stepping in front of her, ready to defend Mary from the noisy intruder. But the moment Gabriel saw the golden-eyed man with whom she stood, he felt the complete fool.
He quickly closed the door behind him and entered the room to stand before Mary and the footman. “Sir Bramwell Stevens. My apologies. I did not know you would be here.”
He shook his fellow spy’s hand.
Stevens grinned. “What the devil did you think was happening in here, Gabe, to make you crash in like that? And please, it’s just Stevens. I don’t like this Sir nonsense.”
“Nothing, I assure you,” Gabe lied.
“Stevens’ pseudonym is ‘Smithe,’” Mary said. “Hydra informed us that he was a footman for the Marquess of Hale, if you will recall.”
Gabe affected a mock half bow. “Anthony Spencer at your service. You already know Mary White.”
Stevens’ lips curved up in a half smile. “Indeed, I do.” He lifted Mary’s hand to his lips and gave it a lingering kiss.
Mary giggled, her other hand coming up to cover her perfect, smiling mouth.
Damn Stevens, anyway. He was as bad as Hugh and Colin, the incorrigible flirts.
Gabe grabbed Mary’s free hand, pulling her to his side and away from Stevens. “That is enough of that. From this point on, we do not know each other.”
Stevens bowed. “Of course, sir.”
Gabe turned to Mary. “We have some searching to do.”
With another wink, Stevens slunk from the room, leaving Gabe and Mary alone in the guest bedchamber. It was an exact copy of their room, except this one was ornamented not in puce, but sunshine yellow. It was too cheery for Gabe’s current mood.
He was suddenly very aware that he was still holding Mary’s hand…and that he rather enjoyed the sensation. He quickly released her.
“Shall we begin with the downstairs study?” He forced a smile.
“Of course.” She linked her hand around his elbow. “Do you know the way?”
“Not at all, but I imagine it should not be difficult to find. Is it not the room with a desk, a chair, and correspondence and such?”
* * *
Mary sent Gabe a sideways glance for his sarcasm. They continued down the hall, searching, for Lord Kerr’s study as insouciantly as possible. This assignment would be simpler if they had come as servants, as they could come and go from rooms and bedchambers without inquiry. Mary knew better than to question Hydra’s methods, however, and her role as Miss White the actress has already been established.
As much as Mary had been enjoying the sweet torture of Gabriel and the excitement of the hunt for Bonaparte’s spies, she was concerned. Anthony Walstone, the Viscount Boxton was at the house party, and that boded ill. Despite having given him a warm greeting, Mary hated to admit that she was frightened of the green-eyed devil.
“This one,” Gabe murmured in her ear.
She jumped slightly at the interruption to her thoughts. Goodness, had they reached the study already? She did not even recall descending the stairs.
“Are you well, Mary?” Gabe gazed down at her, a concerned frown marring his perfect brow.
Mary forced herself to smile. “Of course, Tony.”
She entered first into the empty study. It was perfectly ordered, not a single item out of place. A large mahogany desk stood in the centre of the square room, and a tall leather wingback chair behind it. One grand rouge brocade rug lay on the floor, nearly covering the entire surface of the room.
Despite the tidy appearance, the room held the odour of books, cigars, and cheap brandy.
Gabe let out a low whistle and Mary shushed him.
“What?” Gabe feigned innocence. “I’ve never seen a study so immaculate before.”
“We had best be careful of what we touch. Someone as fastidious as this likely takes particular notice of the precise placement of their things.”
He conceded the point with a nod. “Let us set to work.”
Mary watched as Gabriel walked toward the bookshelves that lined the right most wall and ran his fingers along the spines, testing the books for a potential latch. His hands were strong and nimble as he moved. She imagined they’d be just as capable on her.
Stop it, she admonished herself. Shaking herself and focusing on her task, Mary slid her hands around the edges of the chaise lounge and rectangular table that stood before the left wall. Besides nails and the edges of the upholstery, Mary found nothing.
She quickly moved on, examining the wide sideboard that sat against the wall behind the desk between two large paintings that stretched from ceiling to the dark wood planked floor. She opened the cabinet door.
* * *
Abandoning the bookcase, Gabe turned his attention to the desk and opened the bottommost left side drawer. He tapped it from the underside, noting the solid thunk. He moved to the next drawer, and then the next, each knock leading to the same thunk. He finally reached the topmost drawer, but it would not open.
“Mary,” he whispered.
She looked up from where she searched in the vases on the fireplace mantle.
Gabe extended a hand. “One of your hair pins.”
Mary hurried over, pulling a pin from her coiffure. Gabe accepted it with a nod then placed it in the lock.
“Shouldn’t you use two?” Mary whispered in his ear, the warm, womanly rose scent of her very nearly making him dizzy.
“For locks in doors and safes, yes, but this…particular lock…” he bit his lip as he concentrated on his task, “aha!” He looked at her with a grin. “Just requires one.”
He slid the drawer open to find it empty. Undeterred, Gabe reached beneath the drawer and knocked. Clunk. He looked up at Mary with a triumphant smile before searching the underside of the drawer for a finger hole. He found it and slid his finger inside then pressed the latch within. Click. The top of the hidden compartment popped open and Gabe lifted it to examine the contents.
Mary sighed in disappointment. “Nothing but lists of items purchased.” She reached in and fingered through the slips of parchment. “The modiste, the tailor, cobbler, bookshop, milliner…” she sighed once more, “this is not at all what we are searching for.”
Gabe frowned, frustration riding him, as he looked at the entirely innocent documents. Blast it! He had been so certain…
Carefully replacing the bills and closed the drawer, he used Mary’s hairpin to lock it. He quickly turned his attention to the bookshelves. Mary had already searched for an opening mechanism, but men had been known to hollow out large tomes and hide documents within. Finding the thickest book on the shelf, Gabe withdrew it and flipped it open. Nothing. He found another and opened it. Nothing.
“Gabriel—er, Tony,” Mary said in hushed tones. “What do you make of this pedestal?”
Gabe turned to see Mary gesture to a tall, cylindrical, dark oak pedestal that reached about waist height. It stood in the far-left corner of the room, and an enclosed display case on top that held what appeared to be a rare book. His lordship’s prized possession no doubt.
“Lord Kerr must value that book a great deal,” Mary murmured thoughtfully.
“Or what’s beneath it,” he mused. Gabe snapped the tome shut and replaced it on the shelf, then moved toward the pedestal.
Gabe watched as Mary slid her fingers along the edges of the wood. “There is a small indentation in the rear corner.” She glanced up at Gabe. “You don’t suppose it’s trapped, do you?”
He shook his head. “Anyone with confidence enough to steal such documents has enough confidence that their hiding place will not be discovered. Hardly someone cowering in fear.”
She extended her finger, pressing firmly into the indentation. There was a loud grinding and an echoing click. The front of the pedestal swung open on undetectable hinges and Mary knelt to view the contents.
“A strong box.” Gabe knelt behind her.
Behind the hidden door sat a thick metal box with a lock holding it shut.
“This must be it,” Mary whispered.
Just as she reached toward it, Gabe halted her. “Shh. Do you hear that?”
He tilted his head toward the study door. The murmur of male voices sounded down the hall and his heart slammed in his chest.