Brampton, England—three-hours later
Mary gasped as she was jolted awake. She blinked the blur of sleep away from her eyes, forcing herself to focus on where she was. A carriage. She looked across the well-appointed equipage and saw the ever-grinning Mr. Richards on the opposite velvet-covered squabs.
It all came flooding back. Her work at the pub, walking through the darkened streets of Carlisle, the three men, what they nearly succeeded in doing to her… She shivered. Then she recalled Mr. Richards’ rescue and subsequent offer. Goodness. Was she mad to be leaving her home to journey with this strange man? She had only known him for mere minutes before she agreed to get in a carriage and travel alone with him, evidently without a care for propriety.
Her gaze slid over his guileless features. He was absurdly handsome, but it was not his attractiveness that compelled her to trust him. It was some other mysterious quality that she could not quite put a name to. Even so, she was most assuredly mad for agreeing to this scheme.
“You awoke just in time, Miss Wright,” he said, his eyes glittering with…mirth?
Mary turned to gaze out the window and her jaw dropped briefly before she could catch it. Mr. Richards’ estate, she presumed. The sun shone over the white marble façade, lending it an ethereal glow. It was four—no, five—stories tall and had marble columns on either side of the massive oak front doors.
“Grimsbury Manor is grand, is it not?”
“I should say so,” she whispered, never taking her gaze from the largest home she had ever seen.
“It was passed down to me by my grandfather several years ago. I’d never had the pleasure of seeing it while he was alive, but I know that he would not wish for it to sit unused. Alas, I turned it into a school…of sorts.”
The footmen leapt down from the back of the carriage, rocking the equipage with the shift in weight. One opened the door and lowered the step while the other pulled her sack of belongings down from the back. A waft of cool air entered the carriage, bringing with it the crisp scent of an imminent snowfall.
Mr. Richards exited first, then held his hand out to help her down.
“So solicitous.” She grinned, and immediately regretted the action, for it pulled at her split lip. Cringing, she touched the tips of her fingers to the cut.
Compassion lit his eyes. “We have a live-in physician. I will have him examine your wounds.”
Mary gazed at him in awe and deep appreciation. This man had truly thought of everything when he’d created this school for spies. “I thank you, that would be very much appreciated.”
He nodded. “Shall we?”
With a sweeping gesture of his arm, Mr. Richards allowed her to pass.
The gravel of his front drive crunched beneath her half boots as she approached her future. The door swept open several long moments before she reached the top step of the grand marble stairs. A man in an official-looking butler’s uniform stood stoically just inside the door, while three footmen with powdered white wigs stood in waiting, presumably to take her pelisse or jump to do their master’s bidding.
She stepped across the threshold and stopped to stare in wonder. The foyer was swathed in white and gilt, the marble floor reflected the light through the windows and the candles in the high chandelier. The ceiling stood two stories above her head; it was domed and ornately painted with cherubs and clouds, all surrounded with gilt leafing. Her breath was nigh stolen from her very lungs.
A sudden boom shook the ground beneath her feet and rattled the chandelier above her head, the dangling glass bulbs tinkling lightly. The explosion caused her to jump and, to her embarrassment, squeak. She spun around toward the still-open door. “What in heaven’s—”
“Target practice, Miss Wright,” Mr. Richards said, a half-smile playing on his lips. “There are targets set up for any number of weapons practice. As you can hear, there is a class in session.”
He winked at her and she was struck again at just how handsome the man was. He certainly had a devilishly charming air about him. And goodness, but he couldn’t be much older than Mary herself.
“Isaac,” Mr. Richards said to a waiting footman, “see that Miss Wright’s belongings are brought to the Red Room.” He turned to her, his grin still in place and his hands linked behind his back. Clearly a man at his ease. “Our bedchambers are decorated in an array of colours, and yours is the only one swathed in red. Also, our students double as members of staff; mostly maids and footmen, unless they have a particular skill that they wish to expand upon.
“I would take you on a tour of the classrooms, but I suspect that you would prefer to see the doctor and perhaps have a nap.”
She touched the tip of her fingers to her swollen cheek. It had only been four hours since she had been so brutally handled and the mention of a nap nearly sent her into a swoon. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
He inclined his head. “Of course. We will tour tomorrow. I will have Stevens here show you the way.” He motioned to another of the footmen nearby with only the slightest raising of his dark eyebrow. Amazing how some men could command with just one look. “Summon the physician, if you will,” he added.
Voices came from down the hallway, but the others ignored them. Mary was curious, despite herself. What other manner of men and women had begun training to become spies? Were they all commoners? Gentry?
“Welcome, Miss. I am Bramwell Stevens,” the charmingly handsome footman with beguiling golden eyes said. “Your room is this way.”
He turned to leave, but was stopped by her softly inhaled exclamation.
From the doorway to her right came three young men, all dressed finely in dark coats and trousers. But it was the man on the left of the three that made her heart stop within her chest and her stomach flip over and over in a tumbling roll. Lord, but the years had treated him well, indeed. Much to her consternation.
“Ah,” Mr. Richards said unceremoniously, evidently unaware of the emotional turmoil churning within Mary. “Here are some of our students now.”
The men looked up, then bowed appropriately to their superior.
“Hugh Haddington, Colin Greene, and Gabriel Ashley, this is Miss Mary Wright. She will be joining our fascinating school. Miss Wright, Mr. Haddington, Colin Greene, and Mr. Ashley have been with us for just over six months.”
Mary saw the precise moment that Gabe recognized her. His arched brown eyebrows reached to his hairline, his eyes wide as saucers, and his mouth opened in a silent O. It had been years since she had seen him, and despite her self-assertions that he no longer held any control over her, she felt a significant amount of hurt, anger, and she was ashamed to say, embarrassment, just at the sight of him. He had broken her heart as a young girl and clearly her heart had not yet recovered.
“Charmed, Miss Wright,” Mr. Haddington bowed politely, an openly pleasant expression on his fine, pale features.
Mary could not help but give him a small smile in return, her lips pulling and splitting unpleasantly.
Mr. Greene grinned at her, his dark eyes dancing as he bowed. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”
She curtseyed to both of the men. “Likewise, I’m sure, Mr. Haddington, Mr. Greene.”
“What in the bloody hell is she doing here?” Gabe finally burst out, his fiercely scowling face a mottled red. His Scottish accent seemed to have apparently faded entirely over the past years.
Anger took the foreground in Mary’s emotions. How dare he imply that she hadn’t the right to be there?
“It is a pleasure to see you as well, Mr. Ashley,” she said, her voice brittle with sarcasm. “I am sure that Mr. Richards has a reason for recruiting me, just as he had a reason for recruiting you.”
Gabriel ignored her to gaze accusingly at Mr. Richards. “You brought her here?”
The others around them watched, enthralled, as Mary stepped forward, determined to have Gabriel speak directly to her. “Yes, he brought me here.”
Still refusing to look at her, Gabe’s frown deepened. “Into this life, you would bring her? What could she possibly have that is of interest to you?”
Mary’s gasp echoed through the grand foyer. Hurt lanced through her heart once more.
This time Mr. Richards responded. “Not that it is your place to decide who is recruited and who is not, Mr. Ashley, but Miss Wright is not only an accomplished actress and well-versed, contributing member to society, but just hours ago she defended herself most admirably against the onslaught of three impudent ruffians. Her bravery, knowledge, and skill are to be commended, particularly for someone without the proper training. As you know, I do extensive research on my recruits. And I do not make mistakes.”
Gabe’s eyes had widened further—if that were possible—as he turned his gaze to lie fully upon her. “Good God! What happened?”
Gabriel’s gaze travelled over her torn and blood-soaked dress and pelisse, his face wreathed with horror. Mr. Haddington and Mr. Greene, however, gazed at her with growing admiration glittering in their eyes.
Mary felt only hurt, anger, and exhaustion. She had slept but a mere three hours on the carriage ride here and nothing before that.
“My pardon, Mr. Stevens,” Mary said, her spine stiffening, “but I should like to see my room now.”
The young footman appeared beside her. “Of course, Miss Wright. Do follow me.”
With her head held high, Mary straightened her skirts and followed Mr. Stevens up the grand, curving marble staircase. Damn Gabriel Ashley anyway.