“Were you confused?”
The man stiffened as if she had slapped him. “Of course not!”
“But what you are trying to tell me is—” Mary paused. Swallowing hard and fists curling into balls, Mary pulled her hand away. “Gilbert thought it was I and not the comtesse who was entertaining my cousin, didn’t he? Gilbert doesn’t trust me, and never will.”
Mary wrapped her arms in front of her stomach.
Hadn’t she herself believed that Gilbert had let the witch have her way with him in the hallway?
It had been her cousin, not Gilbert carrying out the duty of entertaining the comtesse. She was a hypocrite. If she wanted Gilbert’s ultimate trust, she would have to trust him equally. Her mama had placed her faith in her papa over and over only to be disappointed time and time again.
“I’m sorry.” Lord Hadfield’s palm lay open in invitation.
Mary shook her head. “There is no need to apologize.”
Standing, Lord Hadfield tugged on his coat sleeves. “Oh, but there is. It was not my intention to upset you. I clearly failed. I—. I thought you should know in case Waterford behaves oddly tomorrow.”
She lay back, pulling the covers up to her chin. “I expect Waterford will do what he does best. Focus on executing the assignment and ignore me. He has for years.”
Hands clasped in front of him, Lord Hadfield smiled and revealed a charming dimple. “You are an extremely clever woman, and I’m certain I’m not telling you anything you are not already aware of. But once we arrive at Valois’s estate, you will have to make a choice as to which of us will have the honor to marry you.”
All she could manage was a weak smile.
Hadfield turned to leave.
The devil got the better of her as she spoke to his back. “Convention would dictate that to be the rational course of action. However, I’ve never been one to adhere to society’s rules, and I’m not about to begin now.”
Two quick strides and he was back on the bed sitting next to her. “Lady Mary, I must insist. If not Waterford, please consider my offer. I am not a bad sort once you get to know me better.”
Sadness filled his eyes, contrary to his words.
“You are the best sort of gentleman, and I’m truly honored by your offer. But I have a feeling you have already lost your heart to another, but are too afraid to approach her.”
Lord Hadfield tilted his head to the side and said, “Waterford warned me of your intuition. But I do not fear it like he does. It is what makes you unique, a quality to be treasured.”
She sat up, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a sisterly hug. There were no shooting stars. No tingling in the most intimate of places—no zing. Her pulse remained steady. She pulled back and shoved him off the bed. “Thank you. I shall think upon it.”
It was a lie, but she needed him to leave, for the tears were welling behind her eyes and threatening to appear. If she did not get rid of him, he would see exactly how much Gilbert’s lack of faith in her affected her.
Just as he had entered her room without a sound, he left the same way. Mary’s gaze shifted to the adjoining chamber. Greene’s shoulders were slumped, and she shook her head as she turned away.
Alone.
Mary buried her face in the pillow and let the feathers absorb her sobs.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Blurry-eyed, Gilbert padded over to the window. The storm clouds hovering overhead reflected his dark mood. He hoped they would be able to ride out of range before it began to rain, for he dreaded the idea of being cooped up in the coach with Mary and Valois. He couldn’t banish the image of Mary riding him. His twisted mind had somehow replaced Valois with his own likeness, and thus he had remained awake throughout the night.
Raking a hand through his hair, he muttered, “The woman has me going mad.” He stuffed a leg through his breeches. “Valois. I’m not jealous of the frog.”
For years the French had been his enemy. They shot at him. They tried to kill him. But he could rationalize that Valois was not the enemy. In fact, the man had aided the British forces by hiding captives and providing safe harbor on long treks through France.
Tarnation. It pricked his ego that the comtesse, who had been chasing after him since the day he set foot on the estate, had turned her attention to Valois, the man who Mary seemed to prefer over his own company—which made his jealousy worse.
Jamming his shirttails into his breeches, he adjusted his falls. The mere thought of Mary had his body at the ready. The scratch at his door came as he was fastening the last button of his breeches. “Enter.”
Hadfield waltzed into the room, looking refreshed and ready for the multiday journey. As per his habit, he headed for the window. “André will be joining our group.”
“What?”
“I spoke with the comte this morning, and the arrangements have been made. Lady Mary and Valois will ride together as before, and the three of us can take turns resting in the extra coach.”
“Mary will ride with me and not Valois.”
“That is not the plan.” Hadfield’s tone held an edge to it Gilbert had not heard before. “Last night, I found Mary in her chambers. Safe and asleep.”
“Her bedchamber! You sneaked into her room. Please tell me you left right away as soon as you saw she was slumbering.”
“No. Mary and I had a very informative chat. She was able to provide me with a wealth of intelligence that she had pried from the comte before retiring to her own rooms—alone.”
“Tell me what information Mary was able to obtain?”
Hadfield briefly shifted his gaze from the window to Gilbert and then back to the window. “Always about the mission. Very well. She confirmed my suspicions that Boucher is, in fact, a friend to our cause, not an enemy, and has access to far-reaching resources. As the paperwork we retrieved last night suggests, Boucher and his son are on the hunt for Burke’s own offspring, Lord Wharton.”
Gilbert blurted, “Wharton! The man’s an imbecile.”
“Boucher has informants that have him believing that Wharton is actually conspiring against his own papa.”
“And we are simply going to trust Boucher and his informers.”
Hadfield rested a hand on the window casing. “Yes.”
“My assignment was to ensure your safety, not to question your sanity.”
Pushing away from the window, Hadfield replied, “Perfect. Let’s be off. I’m eager to reach Valois’s estate and have my fate determined. Living in limbo like this is grating on my nerves.”
“What are you rambling on about now?”
Employing a tone one would use with a child, Hadfield said, “I want to know what Lady Mary’s final decision is, which of us will she agree to marry.”
“She gave me permission to court her, not you.”
“Oh, I don’t believe you are even a contender anymore after you failed her last night. I was referring to Valois or me.”
Gilbert felt like the imbecile he had called Wharton. Hadfield was making no sense to his tired mind. “How did I fail Mary?”
Hadfield raised an eyebrow, turned, and left him to mull over the answer.
For three days, Gilbert had tried to capture Mary’s attention.
He had been an utter dolt for even thinking for a second the woman on her knees had been Mary. The buffoon that he was believed that all he had to do was simply ask for her hand and she’d be overjoyed and agree immediately. After years of rebelling against what he viewed as an arranged marriage of sorts, Gilbert was now faced with the fact that he might never have the chance to marry the woman who was so much more than the girl he feared with the ability to see and speak to the dead.
It had been hours riding alongside the closed curtain of Valois’s coach in hopes of catching a glimpse of the woman who had completely shut him out. She hadn’t even greeted him the morning of their departure. Instead, she’d waltzed right by on the arm of Hadfield, who had transferred her into the coach that she shared
with Valois. For miles, the man had droned on and on about how Mary should remain in France and all the advantages he believed went along with becoming a duchess. Either Mary had dozed off, or her responses had been nonverbal, for though Gilbert had hoped to hear her decline, there wasn’t a note of her musical voice.
As they rounded a bend and the gates of the ducal palace came into view. Gilbert recalled the childhood image of his abandoned estate in the highlands. It wasn’t as large or as imposing as the monstrosity that lay before him, but it had the most spectacular views. Which would Mary prefer?
Phillip’s voice pierced through his thoughts. Location is not the issue, you imbecile. It is you whom she should choose. Prove to her you are worthy of forgiveness.
Her brother’s voice had been a nuisance over the entire journey. Constant reminders of why Mary was perfect for him and why he was an idiot for making such a hash of matters.
The window curtain was pulled back, and Mary’s tired, withdrawn features were in full view. She peered down the drive, but as soon as she spotted him, she pulled the material back up as a shield.
Moments later, he heard her address Valois. “It appears you will have my family to contend with also.”
“I invited them.”
“You did? I wonder whom Papa brought with him.”
“Everyone. For the ceremony.”
“What ceremony?”
“Your wedding, ma chérie. But your papa will want to know which man will be lucky to have you, non?”
Who had Mary decided to marry? Trying to catch Mary’s response, Gilbert leaned closer. His horse shifted away from the moving vehicle, and he nearly fell out of his seat. To his dismay, he hadn’t managed to hear Mary’s response.
His heart raced as he caught sight of the entire Masterson clan assembled on Valois’s stairs. What was he to say to Mary’s papa? For years he had readily made promises to see to Mary’s care, the same promises he made to Phillip on the battlefield.
Gilbert dismounted and strode over to the coach, but Hadfield had somehow managed to reach Mary first. Gilbert’s hand curled into a fist. Mary nearly slipped disembarking from the coach, and it was Hadfield who caught her and was the recipient of her alluring smile. It should have been him who was there for her. Not Hadfield.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ducking her head, Mary withdrew from Lord Hadfield’s arms. She wasn’t ready to face Gilbert. Running up the wide stone stairs, she flung herself into her aunt’s arms. Without hesitation, Aunt Agnes wrapped her arms about Mary. “Shhh— sweetling.”
Her aunt’s warmth was reassuring, and Mary squeezed the older woman closer.
“Let go of your aunt Agnes this minute,” her papa ordered. The duke hated public displays of affection, claiming them to be unbecoming and uncouth.
Her aunt responded, “Oh. Shoosh, Rupert. The child is upset. Leave her be.”
Shielding Mary from curious stares, Aunt Agnes ushered into the house. “Dinnae worry about your papa. Leave him to me.”
Mary nodded, relieved to have an ally in dealing with her meddling family. Her head ached. She had to decide and soon. Blindly following her aunt through the halls, Mary wasn’t aware that she was in the guest chamber she had been assigned to until after she was stripped of her clothing and Greene was pulling a night shift over her head.
Crawling into the plush bed, she settled between the soft sheets and placed her weary head upon the soft feather-stuffed pillow. Mary sighed and then let the tears fall.
What was she to do?
She couldn’t stay in France.
Lord Hadfield’s heart belonged to another.
She didn’t want to marry a man who had little faith in her and was capable of believing the worst of her.
Aunt Agnes rubbed her back. “The git is sorry, but you need to make him grovel before accepting his hand.”
“Gilbert?”
“Aye.”
“I won’t marry a man who doesn’t want me.”
“Oh, my child, he wants you.”
“I don’t mean to bed. I want a man who will value all my abilities.”
“Have you not learned that in order for others to see you for what you are worth, you first must believe in yourself?”
“I have learned much while being on the Continent and all without the help of Lady Frances.”
“What do you mean without her assistance?”
“I no longer have the ability to see or hear them. They have all disappeared.”
“What do you mean? She is sitting right next to—” Her aunt tucked her hair behind her ear. “Child, look at me.”
Mary rolled and faced her aunt. “I miss them.”
“They will never abandon you. It is you who has to learn to value your gift and believe in your capabilities.”
“But I do.”
“If that were the truth, you would hear the blistering words our dear Lady Frances is now sharing with me.”
“What is she saying? Why can I not hear her lecture?”
Her aunt raised a hand to her cheek and wiped a tear away with her thumb. “I have explained. It is up to you. Figure the rest out. I suspect once you are in accord with your fate all will return to normal.”
“I will not accept that I’m meant to marry Gilbert. It can’t be so. Why would the universe want to burden me with such a man?”
“You have always had a stubborn streak to you, but now is really not the time for such behavior. Rest, and we will deal with matters in the morning.”
Mary closed her eyes and slipped farther under the soft linens and waited for her aunt to leave. She wasn’t willing to wait until morn to deal with her future or allow others to determine it for her. She would take care of matters tonight.
If they were all assigned the same rooms as before, Lord Hadfield’s room would be to the right of her cousin’s chambers and Gilbert’s to the left. Mary stood in the middle of the hallway and looked at each door.
There was only one sensible choice.
Her heart raced as she took a step toward Lord Hadfield’s chamber. The door began to open, and she swiveled and dashed into Gilbert’s instead.
Leaning her forehead against the door, she let out a sigh.
“Mary?” Gilbert’s voice was gravelly from sleep. “Is that you, lass?”
Maybe if she stayed still and didn’t utter a sound, he’d close his eyes and go back to sleep. She was about to straighten and flee from the room when his large hands grabbed her by the upper arms and spun her around.
Face-to-face, he asked, “Lass, what are you doing here?”
What was she to say—I meant to enter Lord Hadfield’s chamber, but at the last moment, I got scared and hid in yours?
She was no ninny. That would surely anger the man, whose touch was threating her resolve.
“I came to tell you I’ve made my decision to marry Lord—”
Gilbert’s eyes widened, and then he barked, “Over my dead body.”
“Gilbert. There’s no reason to be dramatic. It is the most sensible choice, and I wanted to be the one to inform you of my decision.”
“How does marrying Hadfield make any sense?”
“He respects me and—”
“But he will never love you as I do!”
“Love? What does love have to do with anything?”
Gilbert’s stiffened at her declaration.
“In any case, you don’t love me. If you did, you wouldn’t have thought me capable of—”
He grabbed her hands and held them tight. “It’s because I am in love with you that I lost my mind.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, and she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Lass, I’ve loved you even before I laid eyes upon you. Phillip shared your letters at school, and I’d fallen in love with your wit, the selflessness of your words, and the affectionate tone in which you wrote. I was a lout the first time I met you. I didn’t want to be forced into a marriage like my parents, so I ignored the intense attraction I felt for you
.”
Gilbert wasn’t a liar. Did she dare believe that they could have shared a bond even before meeting? She herself had admitted to having feelings for the version of Gilbert Phillip had spoken of. The man that had appeared on rare occasions over the years. The man that made her feel safe and warm merely a week ago.
Gilbert squeezed her hand. “You’re cold. Come warm up under the covers.”
Mary pulled her hands from his grasp. “No. I’m going to return to my own chambers, and I’ll be informing my papa of my decision in the morn.”
“I had hoped my admission of mistakes and declaration of my feelings for you would have changed your mind.” Gilbert cupped her face with both hands and bent until they were eye to eye once more. “Mary, I signed the marriage papers over a year ago.”
“How can that be? A year ago you departed the Devonton house party early and headed straight for the Continent.”
“Your mama brought the papers with her to Devonton’s, and I signed them before I left. It was then that I agreed to a ceremony upon my return. Until then, you were to remain in Scotland with your aunt.”
Anger rolled through her body. No one had even bothered to ask what her preference was. Gilbert hadn’t even bothered to ask for her hand. It was she who was to be forced into a marriage she didn’t want.
What she wanted was to box his ears. Or simply punch him. The arrogant fool! She firmly clasped her hands in front of her and shifted away from him, if not lessening the urge to inflict bodily harm to her betrothed, then at least making it more difficult to do so.
“I’ll escort you back to your rooms.” Gilbert turned and walked over to retrieve his banyan from the foot of the bed. Instead of donning it, he wrapped it about her shoulders and then grabbed his breeches and shirt, which lay nearby. “Mary, I do love you and believe our union will be a happy one if you can ever find it your heart to forgive me.”
Time.
She needed time to think. Gilbert walked her back to her chamber and tucked her in bed like a small child. Once he was gone, Greene’s head peeked out from the adjoining room.
Visions of Lady Mary Page 16
