by Gill, Tamara
Mary assessed her handiwork, unable to fathom why she’d allowed the hideous adornments for so long.
Tonight she would put into place the recommendation the Duke of Carlton had suggested to her. She would be feminine but intelligent with conversations that were worthy of discussion amongst the opposite sex. She would laugh in a sultry manner, but remain ladylike, show interest in the opposite sex, instead of indifference like she’d always done before. That, along with her own modifications, namely her clothing and hair would give her an idea of how she would go when back in London. Mary had also gone as far as to ask her mother’s lady’s maid to style her hair in a more modern style, some tendrils falling softly about her face and making her look more worldly than a country lady. All that was left for her to do was dress.
There was a quick knock on the door before her friend Louise bustled into the room. Louise was already dressed for dinner and she looked lovely as usual with her petite frame and pretty smile.
Louise stopped inside the door, shutting it behind her. “Oh, Mary, your hair looks marvelous. So much more elegant and suitable for your age.”
Her maid blushed, clearly pleased with herself and Mary smiled. “I cannot thank you both enough for helping me today with everything that I asked. I should have acted before now regarding my gowns instead of thinking of mother’s feelings. I wasn’t actively seeking a husband before though, and so didn’t see the point. But if I am to marry as my father has stated, I need to be more amenable and willing to talk to gentlemen, open and honestly. If I am more willing, maybe I will find someone who will suit my character better.” The more Mary thought about this, the more it made sense to her. Instead of dismissing, but engaging, she might find a gentleman who would allow her pursuits to continue and the marriage would be a happy one for both involved.
Louise nodded. “It is certainly worth a try. There are marriages made within the ton which are grand love matches all the time. There is no reason why yours will not be.”
“Like who?” Mary asked, lifting her arms so her maid could help her into her gown.
Louise blinked, biting her lip. “Well…I cannot remember at the moment, but I’m sure there are such couples.”
Mary stifled a laugh. “In any case, we had better finish getting dressed for dinner, there is still much to be done.”
After much cutting and re-stitching, the dress Mary wore tonight was the most revealing she’d ever worn. The sapphire silk set off her dark hair and sun-kissed skin. There were no bows or ribbons, no gaudy lace or high necklines, this gown was simple yet fashionable. Simply perfect for her first night in proving that although she might like the outdoors, fishing, and shooting, swimming in the summer, that did not mean she could not also be a lady.
She stood before the cheval mirror, taking in her appearance. To finish off her ensemble her maid placed a small sapphire that hung from a delicate gold chain about her neck. The final piece of her transformation. Mary smiled, not recognizing the woman staring back at her. She looked completely different and yet the girl gazing back was also the same. And she liked what she saw.
“You look beautiful,” Louise said, coming up behind her and catching her eye in the mirror.
Nerves fluttered in Mary’s stomach and nodded, raising her chin, ready to face her future. “I think this will do well enough.”
Dale stood conversing with Lady Hectorville who had cornered him the moment he came downstairs. Her whispered words and sultry tone had worked on him once, on a night he had been in his cups and not himself. Her seduction that evening had worked, but not this night. Not ever again.
Why her ladyship continued to seek him out for bed sport baffled him, and in truth had started to become a nuisance.
Did she not have better things to do with her time? The woman really needed a hobby. If she didn’t find something other than men to occupy her time, she’d soon end up with syphilis.
The door to the front reception room where everyone was gathered before dinner opened, and Dale glanced toward the new arrivals. Taking a sip of his whisky, he coughed, choking on his drink at the sight of Lady Mary. Lady Hectorville glanced at him sharply and he cleared his throat, schooling his features into a mask of indifference.
But boredom was the least of his emotions at that moment. Like a moth to a flame, so too was Dale’s attention riveted on her. Lady Mary greeted her mama, curtsying and smiling as her mother gushed over her daughter’s stunning appearance. Minus the lace and bows that normally adorned her gowns, but something else was different too. Her hair had been styled to better suit her age, and gave one the opportunity to admire her lovely neck.
“She is very beautiful tonight. I did say to Lady Lancaster that she should allow Mary to wear clothes that were more fashionable and popular among the young set, but my friend is so set in her ways. But la, look at Mary now. A woman, not a young girl in braids anymore,” Lady Hectorville said.
That was certainly true. The bountiful décolletage was proof of that. And she was only five years younger than himself, not an old maid at all. If she were to attend London next year wearing such gowns she would find a husband soon enough.
The thought left him cold and he took a sip of his whisky, tearing his regard from the delectable little morsel. A hot, and urgent need sat heavy in his gut and he took a few calming breaths. Remember she is not for you. And while he knew it, Dale still allowed his gaze to return to her and to bask in the idea, just for a moment, what it would be like to kiss her…and perhaps have her lips curve in that pretty smile just for him. To date he’d yet to find a lady who made him want to give up his more sensual pursuits and settle into domesticity. But the desire coursing through his veins now made him really look at Lady Mary. Dale frowned. She was fire…and fire with fire was never a good combination. No…for whenever he decided to take the plunge into matrimony, it must be a lady of cool demureness. With admirable willpower he tore his stare from her.
Huffing out a disgruntled breath, Lady Hectorville flounced off. He glanced to his side as the sweet scent of roses caught his attention and his lips twitched into a grin. “Good evening, Lady Mary. You look very fetching tonight, although I think you’re already aware of that.”
She grinned mischievously, taking a glass of wine from a footman who bowed before her. “I am being more practical in my choosing of a husband and will take heed of your advice and be more personable, more interested, but I also needed to make a few changes myself.” She glanced down at her gown and drew his attention there also. “I shall have Mama purchase a new wardrobe next year, but the alterations to my gowns I have made today will do well enough until then.”
His gaze moved over her, taking in the narrowing of her waist beneath the silk dress. She was very fetching in it. The empire cut suited her body shape, and Dale couldn’t help but wonder if her hips were as bountiful as her breasts.
Dale took another sip of his whisky and mortifyingly found it empty. She chuckled and he knew she’d seen his lapse in concentration.
“Let me get you another.” She waved a footman over.
“Thank you,” he said, heat flaming his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “So, you’re going to take heed of some of my recommendations. I do hope you find them beneficial.”
She bit her lip and he ground his teeth. A woman who was utterly clueless that she was charming was nothing short of dangerous. “Well, I think what you said made sense. If I can hold an intelligent conversation with a man perhaps I’ll like him enough to allow him to court me. As much as I’d love to keep escaping the marriage trap, I know I cannot do so forever,” she whispered, leaning close to him and giving him a good view of her bust and the white chemise that sat against her skin.
Damn she was the sweetest thing he wanted to taste, savor and enjoy every ounce of her.
“Lord Weston has not brought up my lapse in conduct since it occurred. I’m glad we’ve been able to get along just as we ever have.”
Dale narrowed his eyes at her tone that although determine
d, did hold an edge of longing to it. “Is Lord Weston a gentleman whom you would consider a possible suitor?” Dale turned and watched the viscount, dismissing him as a scoundrel and a vain one at that. Certainly not worthy of a free spirit like the intelligent Lady Mary.
She lifted her face and gave him her profile as she glanced across the room to where Lord Weston stood talking to Lady Hectorville. Her ladyship all but hanging off the young lord’s every word. His lordship eating up the attention like a glutton.
“Father and mama would certainly approve, and as I said, he’s our neighbor. I would not have to move out of the county and I would be close to home. But I promise I will not rush into anything that I’m not certain of. After five Seasons in Town, you must believe that of me, if nothing else.”
A light blush rose on her cheeks at the mention of it and he wanted to reach out and see if her skin was as heated as it looked. “Are you ashamed?”
One delicate shoulder lifted in a shrug. Dale tore his gaze away from her person. In all seriousness, did she have to keep reminding him of what lay beneath her gown? It was bad enough that he knew he could never have her. Not in the way he’d like to.
The idea of her beneath him, her hair mussed from bed sport, her lips swollen and red from his kisses, her body marked from where he’d dragged his lips from the tops of her nipples to the core of herself. She’d never think of the washed out popinjay Lord Weston again if he did act on his desires.
A clap on his shoulder startled him and his whisky spilled over his coat sleeve.
Peter laughed. “Ho there, my friend. I did not mean to startle you so.”
Dale placed the tumbler aside, pulling out his handkerchief to dab at his jacket. “I did not see you come over, that is all.”
“Brother,” Lady Mary said, looking less than pleased that her sibling had decided to join them.
“Mary,” Peter said in return in just as bored a tone. “Should you not be talking to the eligible gentlemen here instead of boring my friend with your nonsense? To mingle will be good practice for next Season.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Charming. And I should hope I wasn’t boring you, your grace. I think I can say with honesty that we’re friends and can speak plainly.”
Dale caught Peter’s eye and didn’t miss the flicker of contemplation in his friend’s orbs. “Of course we’re friends, Lady Mary.” When he didn’t venture to say anything further, she made her excuses and left to sit beside her friend on a nearby settee.
“I do apologize, Carlton. My sister is a little eccentric and straightforward to the point of being blunt. If she’s said anything inappropriate, I shall speak to her about it.”
Dale shook his head, dismissing the idea. He actually liked the fact that Lady Mary spoke her mind. The ton was full of lies and intrigues and quite rightly, he never enjoyed that side of society.
“She did not bother me.”
“Huh,” his friend said. “Well, let me know if she does. Even if you are a duke and a good prospect for many beautiful women, my sister is not one of them. She needs to understand that.”
Dale frowned, not for the first time feeling as though Peter thought him unworthy of his sister. “Why would you say that? Am I not suitable for your sister?” The question was asked before he could rip it back. What was he saying?
Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re a good enough catch and suitable for her of course, but we’re friends and she’s my sister. Do not forget I know how much of a rogue you are, and have shared in your wild nights in London. She would not do for you.”
Something about Peter’s tone put him on edge and he bit back an impertinent retort. Instead, he said, “From what you stated yourself we would make a good match, so do explain why we would not.” Dale knew what he was saying. It was because of his antics in Town, how he lived. The hard way in which he existed. Nights out at gambling dens, endless balls and parties, women who fell at his feet willing to warm his bed. That Peter knew and had partaken in his lifestyle was reason enough his friend would push his sister away from his orbit, even so, it rankled.
“Mary will marry for love or not at all. If there is one thing that I know about my sister it is that,” Peter said, smiling a little to try and dispel the tension that had risen between them.
Dale stared at his friend, hating the fact that Peter thought so little of him. “And she could not love me?”
Peter glanced at him, wide-eyed. “Could you love her enough to change your ways? To stop your nights of debauchery, of gambling, of flirting with every beautiful woman who crosses your path? You my friend are a wild one, and I daresay only a very biddable wife would condone your rakehell ways. That woman is not my sister and the sparks that would fly would be quite terrifying.”
Dale turned his attention back to the gathered guests, not sure he could answer such a question at this time. He would be a good catch for any eligible woman, even Peter’s sister, but he would not pursue her. Not because it was obvious Peter did not think he was suited to her, or her needs, but because Dale didn’t want to marry just yet. A marriage, to him, was something toxic, a partnership that put people at odds and made them do emotionally damaging things to one another. If he ever married, his wife would be a quiet, biddable woman. She would know her role as duchess better than anything else, and therefore they would never come to odds. Lady Mary was not that woman. To imagine a life with Mary made him envision confrontations, arguments and debates. His gut churned at the memory of his parents’ disagreements.
“I could not,” he said, agreeing with Peter. “I hope the next Season has a happier ending for Lady Mary than the last.”
At that moment the dinner gong sounded somewhere in the depth of the home, and they made their way into the dining room. The night passed well enough, but being seated across from Lady Mary, Dale couldn’t help but listen to her conversation with Lord Fairchild, an eligible Marquess from Kent. They spoke of geography and touched on the geology of certain areas about England. The types of fish that his lordship’s lakes boasted and that his lordship would enjoy a spot of ice fishing while at Bran Manor. Her carefree laugh, free from restraint or what was expected of a woman of her rank made him smile. Somehow Lady Mary made him yearn for a life he’d never thought to have. Of a marriage where intelligent conversation was to be had, not just about gossip or gowns, or who had a new paramour, but real things. Things that impacted their life, like politics, family, wants and needs. It seemed Lord Fairchild was also thinking the same.
Dale glared at the fellow, tearing his gaze away to look further along the table. He caught Peter’s regard, the hardened line of his jaw letting Dale know he’d caught him watching his sister.
He turned back to his meal and Miss Grant, his dinner companion seated to his left, determined to put out of his mind Lady Mary. If not for her sake, then at least for the sake of his friendship with Peter.
Chapter 6
Since her transformation Mary had started to enjoy the country house party, and even didn’t mind the fact that she could not go outdoors as much as she’d like. Lord Weston plus a flurry of other young gentlemen had been most attentive since she’d updated her gowns to be more fashionable. Allowed herself to be more open to the concept of courtship and Mary found not all of the men were unlikable. Lord Fairchild loved his country estate and spent many months there instead of in Town.
Perhaps finding a husband who suited her was not such an impossibility as she’d thought.
This morning however she would leave the guests and go for a well-deserved ride, having sent word to the stables earlier to have her mare Pegasus saddled. The air was crisp, cutting even, as she started toward the stables, but with her bottle-green riding habit, leather kid gloves, fur cap and scarf, her short ride would not be too taxing. And she needed to get outdoors, to feel the air on her face, be alone to think and relax and not have to be the person that society wished her to be. A woman who stitched before the fire and played piano instead of going outdoor
s in inclement weather. A woman who was demure and without opinions of her own, everything that she was not.
She started over the northern hill at the back of the property taking Pegasus at a slower pace than usual. With the snow underfoot, not too thick to stop all riding thankfully, but even so, it was thick enough to miss something in the undergrowth, to cause her horse to misstep and possibly hurt itself.
This side of the property was left to grow as nature intended and with very little maintenance from their gardening staff. It made for better hunting seasons and always ensured the sport was good when the gentlemen came up for shooting parties. Mary made her way to the shooting lodge, a sanctuary for herself when not in use. That the lodge also had a stable, always well kept no matter what the time of year, which meant she could place Pegasus in a stall and wile away the day reading, strolling the nearby woods, or simply enjoying her own company.
She rode Pegasus up to the stable door and frowned when she spied it slightly ajar. Had she left it open when she’d been here last? That was a month or so ago, or had one of the groundskeepers accidentally forgotten to lock up when checking on the place. Mary slid off looking about to see if she could see anyone else about.
She walked up to the door and peering inside saw a horse munching hay in one of the stalls, the saddle laying over the stall door and bridle too. Relief ran through her followed by confusion. Whose horse was that?
She turned about, searching, but couldn’t see anyone. Was the intruder inside the lodge? Was he living there without the family knowing? Not letting Pegasus go, she walked over to the lodge and peered through a window, her stomach turning into knots as she recognized the man lazing away on a settee beside a window. Without a care in the world, his boots sat up on the chair arm, his arm casually resting behind his head while the other held a book.
In this relaxed stance the Duke of Carlton looked even more devastatingly handsome than he did in a ballroom. Or across the dinner table watching her all night.
