This could be Mary’s chance to barter for information. Mary turned to face her host. “What would you suggest?”
“Whoever accumulates the most coin wins Lord Waterford.”
Gilbert? Mary answered, “I don’t understand.”
“If I win, you will assist me in having a private moment alone with the man whom I wish to warm my bed tonight. If you win, I shall not pursue him this evening.”
The woman was after the man Mary had promised to marry. After the wonderful experiences Gilbert had shown her that afternoon, there was absolutely no way she would relinquish him to the she-devil who sat next to her. Her brother’s gambling advice rang loud and clear—never let your opponent know your true intent. “I do not see how you not pursuing Waterford is a win for me.”
The comtesse tapped her forefinger against her pursed lips. After a moment of contemplation, she said, “Name your winnings.”
“Complete and honest answers to three questions of my choosing.”
“I’m always frank. But if it is information you seek, I agree to your terms.”
Mary nodded, and the footman carried out his duties, turning cards over two at a time. Comtesse Boucher’s stack steadily grew while hers volleyed up and down.
If she had counted correctly, only two rounds remained.
You know the odds. Do not doubt yourself.
Mary glanced about, but there was no sign of Lady Frances. She must be going mad—she was beginning to hear voices.
Her hand shook, but she counted out half her stack and placed it upon the king of hearts.
Comtesse Boucher assessed Mary’s stack and then her own and proceeded to count out precisely enough coins that, should she lose the round, she would have Mary beat by one chip, assuming Mary didn’t win the round.
Pushing her stack, Comtesse Boucher placed it upon the four of hearts.
Swallowing hard, Mary stared at the two cards before them, willing the first to be a four. Jean flipped over the card—the four of diamonds. Mary had won.
“Ah, but we still have one more hand, my dear. If the next card is not a king, I still have enough to win.”
“But it will be a king, and there will be no need to play further.”
“Let us see.”
The sweat on the footman’s brow was clear for all to see. Surely the comtesse wouldn’t retaliate against the poor man, for he had no control over which card was next. Did he?
The card landed on the table—the king of clubs. Mary bounced in her seat while the comtesse leveled her gaze upon the footman.
“No need to count it out, Jean. Lady Mary is the victor tonight. You are dismissed.”
“Madame la Co—”
Comtesse Boucher cut off the stuttering footman. “For now. Report to my chambers later, and we will discuss your future then.” She turned her direct stare to Mary. “I assume your inquiries will require privacy. Come, let’s retire to my library.”
The woman had her own library? The comtesse, a bluestocking? Mary shook her head. Libraries were used for all sorts of purposes, not only for reading.
Mary stopped midstride; she had entered the most magnificent room. The smell of paper and flowers was heaven. There were three walls lined with bookcases and filled with volumes. She twirled about, glancing at all the titles that surrounded her.
Comtesse Boucher chuckled. “You covet this room as I long for your Waterford.”
“I do not own Waterford. While a wife may be considered chattel, I do not believe that is reciprocal.”
“You silly girl. One look and anyone can tell that man is an excellent lover. The rare type of male who seeks to give his partner pleasure before his own. Oh, what I’d give to run my hands over his body.” The lady shivered right before her eyes.
Mary’s hands itched as she recalled the delicious feeling of Gilbert’s muscles moving beneath them.
She followed Comtesse Boucher and took a seat next to the fire that blazed.
“You know what I speak of. Your cheeks are aflame. But let’s not dally. What is it that you want to know?”
“What do you know of your husband’s dealings with Lord Burke?”
“Ah, Lord Burke. He is the devil. My husband manages many trading lines across the Continent and has the connections allowing certain items to cross international borders without question.”
“What type of items?”
“Artifacts, drugs— and individuals.”
“People? Who?”
“That would be four questions, but I’ll be generous and answer. The last lot, I believe, were Englishmen Burke wanted gone. Hmm— what were their names again?”
Mary recalled Lucy mentioning her brother being on the Continent, but there also had been rumors of him being missing. “Harrington?”
“Ah yes. Harrington, Hereford, and Addington. Three fine-looking men. They did not stay long enough for me to—. Well, my husband assisted Burke in transporting them, but rumor has it that one fled to the colonies, and the other two returned to your homeland.”
“When? How did they manage to leave the Continent?”
“You are all out of questions— unless you want to bargain for more?”
The jewels.
“I have something I believe belongs to you.” The locket contained a picture of a young lady and what looked to be her mama. On the opposite side, a portrait of a man Mary guessed to be the young lady’s papa.
“There is only one thing that currently interests me.” The woman waggled her eyebrows.
“Waterford is not for me to give.”
“Here in France, it is rude not to garner the other woman’s permission.”
“Or badger her into agreement?”
Comtesse Boucher laughed. “I see why Waterford remains loyal to you. You are unique. What is it that you have that you believe worthy of more intelligence regarding my husband’s dealings?”
“A locket.”
Eyes wide, the comtesse asked, “You have my missing jewels?”
“I thought they were your husband’s.”
A fierce scowl appeared on the woman’s face. “He doesn’t even know about them. Burke took them after I refused him.”
“Would you be interested in a trade?”
Eyes narrowed, the comtesse asked, “What do you want to know?”
“Everything you know of Burke’s plans.”
“Burke has run out of favors here and throughout the Continent. The man worries that his time as a loyal servant to the Crown is limited. Burke wanted my husband to assist him in carrying out some plan to remove those in his way. I believe he specifically mentioned a Lady Grace and a Lord Archbroke. Burke appeared desperate and even a little afraid of the pair.”
Fear rolled down Mary’s back. She needed to tell Waterford. They needed to get word back to England. “Who should I have deliver your jewels?”
The comtesse stood and shook out her skirts. “I’ll send Jean to collect them on his way to my chambers.” Before she crossed the threshold into the hall, she said, “I shall find you in the morn for the fittings.”
The wicked twinkle in Comtesse Boucher’s eyes had the hair on Mary’s arms standing on end. She would have to deal with the woman tomorrow. Tonight she would draft the necessary missives to alert her friends of the danger Burke posed. Would Gilbert return to her chambers again tonight? The tingling sensation that ran through to her core had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the thought of sharing a bed with him again.
Chapter Eighteen
A figure loomed over Mary in her semi-darkened bedchamber. Had Gilbert finally come to see her?
“My lady.” Greene’s small hand tapped Mary’s arm. “Wake up. You’ve not slept like the dead before.” Her maid scowled and placed a cool hand to her forehead. “You don’t appear to be unwell. What is the matter with you?”
Nothing was amiss with her physically. She simply no longer had Lady Frances waking her as soon as dawn broke and the voices of others chattering
to keep her awake all night. Mary had slept soundly once she had finally given up on Gilbert appearing.
Sitting up, she stretched her arms and hands above her head. It was peaceful to wake to not a sound but that of Greene’s mumblings. “What time is it?”
Greene pulled back the curtains. Bright sunlight streamed into her room. It was well past dawn. Lady Frances believed it sinful to lie about all morning. Mary released a sigh as she lowered her hands to her lap. She missed Lady Frances.
Her eyes fell upon the pile of discarded missives. How many times had she begun to draft the critical messages only to be disheartened to find her mind unable to produce the appropriate words? Lady Frances was never at a loss for a quick retort or nice turn of phrase. After hours laboring over the correspondence, Mary had been quite pleased with the end result and was certain Lady Frances would have approved of her efforts.
Greene clucked her tongue. “Out of bed, my lady. It is time for us to meet that nasty Comtesse Boucher and get you fitted for a gown for tomorrow’s masquerade party.”
Swiveling her legs over the side of the bed, Mary eased herself down until the balls of her feet touched the plush carpet upon the floor. “Tomorrow? I thought it wasn’t until the end of the week.”
Shaking out a day dress of light green muslin, Greene said, “Rumor below stairs is that the lady of the house changed her mind late last night. Everyone is in a scurry to have all readied for tomorrow.”
Mary stretched her arms out, allowing Greene to quickly dress her, and then she retrieved the mound of discarded paper by the bed and added it to the fire that blazed in her chambers. She prayed the missives that she had dispatched late the prior eve would reach Lord Archbroke in time—before any harm could come to Lady Grace or himself.
Absently, Mary padded over to the washbasin to perform her morning routine. The empty feeling in her chest that had plagued her all night remained. Why had Gilbert not sought her out? Her hand stilled—her toothbrush jammed against her back teeth. Had the comtesse lied and sought out Gilbert despite their agreement?
There was a scratch at the door. Mary promptly placed the toothbrush next to the basin and raised a cup of clean water to her mouth to rinse. Humph. Gilbert and the comtesse. Mary spat, ridding herself of the water in her mouth and the horrid image her mind had conjured up of the pair.
Mary swiveled to face Greene and nodded. Her maid turned the door handle and swung the door open wide. Gilbert and Hadfield stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway. It was as if they were battling over who would enter first.
Gilbert won. “Good morn, Mary. Did you sleep well?”
With a mischievous smirk upon his face, Lord Hadfield closed the door and leaned back against it.
Mary turned her gaze back to Gilbert. “Good morning to you and Lord Hadfield. Why are you both here?”
Lord Hadfield cleared his throat. “We have a rather important matter to discuss with you.”
Mary took a step toward Gilbert. “I have information that I was able to garner from our hostess last eve that is of import.”
Gilbert tilted his head and nonchalantly said, “Ladies, first.”
“Burke utilizes Comte Boucher for transportation schemes.”
Gilbert’s features visibly relaxed and his lips curved into a smug smile. “We are well aware of Boucher’s dealings with Burke.”
Mary wanted to box Gilbert’s ears for employing an all-too-familiar condescending tone with her. “Oh, so you know he assisted Burke to transport three of your fellow peers.”
“Beg pardon?”
Good. She had wiped the all-knowing grin from his features. “Yes. Comtesse Boucher informed me that her husband at times transports individuals, and when I pressed her, she recalled Lord Harrington, Lord Hereford and Lord Addington’s names being mentioned. All peers of the realm. The comtesse also informed me that it is rumored the men have escaped Burke’s clutches.”
Gilbert turned to face Lord Hadfield. “We should tell her.”
Hadfield nodded. “Lady Mary, Waterford and I came to the Continent to track down some misplaced crown jewels. It was Lady Cecilia, under the instruction of Lady Grace, who followed me and informed us that Harrington and Hereford, along with her brother, Lord Addington, had been captured and were being held prisoner in some remote location in Spain.”
“Did you know it was Lord Burke who had orchestrated their detention?”
Gilbert shook his head. “We did not. Not until Lady Cecilia produced the note from the foreign secretary, which she only shared with us after she had been reunited with her brother.”
Mary’s forehead wrinkled. The number of members of the ton involved with the Home Office was astounding. It was apparent not all titled gentlemen lead lives of idleness and decadence.
She assessed the men before her. No, they were certainly not men of leisure.
Facing Gilbert, she said, “I was led to believe that Lucy’s brother, Lord Harrington, was an agent of the Home Office, like you.”
“It would be hard for one to define Harrington’s role.”
Placing her hands on her hips, Mary asked, “Does he or does he not report to the home secretary, Lord Archbroke?”
“He does.” Gilbert glanced over at Hadfield, who shrugged.
Mary wasn’t done with her questions. “And what of Lord Hereford and Lord Addington?”
Gilbert ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Hereford and Addington are agents of the Foreign Office. Like me, Addington spent most of the war here upon French soil but in a vastly different role—he was not enlisted by the military.”
Half the gentlemen Mary was acquainted with led rather complicated lives. Here she had thought the men of her circle were preoccupied with attending the House of Lords, running their estates, and producing offspring.
How did the two governmental bodies determine who of the ton was worthy to be involved with such covert activities?
Mary leveled her gaze at Gilbert. “If Lord Archbroke is the home secretary, who is the foreign secretary?”
“That is of no import to the current matter at hand.” Gilbert reached for her, but she backed away and his hands fell to his sides. “Valois and Boucher are at odds as to how to end their association with Burke. If Boucher has his way, the man will be dead by the end of the Season. But simultaneously, that will place many of our own agents and innocents in jeopardy.”
“Is Comte Boucher really capable of such a scheme?”
Gilbert answered, “Yes.”
Mary looked between the two men and said, “Then we must stop the comte.”
Lord Hadfield opened the door and peered out into the hall.
Gilbert whispered, “Boucher has accumulated many supporters. Apparently, Burke has either blackmailed or double-crossed many who live on both sides of the channel. Hadfield and I need to obtain the list of his supporters and the details of Boucher’s scheme.”
Lord Hadfield waved his hand in a circle as if telling them to wrap up the conversation.
Gilbert reached out for her hand and clasped it tight. “We need you to distract Boucher so we can search his study.”
“Me?” They needed her. Mary’s pulse began to race.
She caught Gilbert’s gaze and asked, “Are you certain you want me to assist?”
Hadfield interjected, “You are the only one we can trust.”
Lord Hadfield’s words extinguished the jolt of excitement that flowed through Mary. “Oh, I understand.”
Gilbert squeezed her hand once more. “I believe you can do it. Please Mary, assist us.”
She had asked him to believe in her, and he had stated he did. She would prove to him she was worthy. “Very well. I shall entertain the comte.”
Gilbert pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “You will do well.”
Without another glance, the men promptly left her chambers. Mary crossed the room and fell back upon her bed. How was she to hold Comte Boucher’s attention for an entire evening?
Chapter Nineteen
The weight of Hadfield’s hand upon his shoulder slowed Gilbert’s pace as they strode down one of the many hallways. “Do you really believe Mary will be able to create a distraction?”
“She is a clever lady.”
Hadfield stared at him. “It’s unlike you to evade a question.” The man cocked his eyebrow and said, “Tomorrow’s ball is our best chance.”
Gilbert stopped and debated whether to voice his worries. Up until a year ago, Hadfield had occupied his days arguing the finer points of law. Why Archbroke trusted him to execute highly complex missions such as locating the missing crown jewels, rescuing captured British agents, and now obtaining crucial evidence against Burke, the Crown’s advisor, was still a mystery to Gilbert. Never had he ever questioned a direct order from Archbroke, but his intuition needled him to discover how Hadfield had gained his superior’s unwavering confidence so quickly.
Hadfield met his gaze straight on. “Ah, it’s not Lady Mary’s performance that worries you. It’s I whom you question.”
“Do you even know how to be stealthy? I’ve yet to see you exhibit the skill. Do you know how to pick a lock? I’m sure Boucher won’t leave the list simply lying about.”
“Archbroke saw to my training prior to my departure. While I’ve little actual experience, I do recall his long-winded lectures. You are to be the lookout, and I’m to retrieve the information. We must act before it is too late.”
“I agree. With our limited resources, it’s the best plan. However, I’ve got a bad feeling about all this.”
“Now is not the time for you to become superstitious.”
Hadfield began to make his way down the hall. “I’m going to check out Boucher’s stables. I need to be outdoors.”
Gilbert remained rooted to the spot. He wanted to join Hadfield, but he needed to keep an eye on Mary.
Walking backward, Hadfield said, “No need to worry over Lady Mary. She will be tied up with fittings and whatnot today.”
Gilbert did not agree. “May I suggest you find Valois and keep him out of trouble?”
Visions of Lady Mary Page 12
