Her soft lips turned downward in a pretty frown. “Oh pooh. And you were doing so well.”
Gabe suppressed the swell of pride that her words provoked.
“Wha’ are ye doing here, Mary?”
The joyous glint to her steel grey eyes fled and Gabe felt as though he’d lost something precious.
“I came to see how you fared, but I can see you are well.” She affected a shallow curtsey. “Pardon me for intruding, sir. Good day.”
She turned to leave but something made him stop her. “Mary, wait,” he called.
She froze in the doorway then turned to face him, an expectant expression on her lovely features.
Gabe let his gaze travel down her attire. She was dressed as a maid as she so often was when she was here. The drab black and white frock should dull anyone’s ardour, but with her dark auburn hair veritably shining beneath her mobcap and her voluptuous charms straining against the material across her chest, any man would want her. And, damn it, so did he.
His covetousness warred with prudence within him and he ran his hand agitatedly through his already dishevelled hair.
Mary’s eyebrows rose expectantly. “You really must spit it out, Gabriel, my rehearsals begin in three quarters of an hour.”
Anger immediately burned in his gut as her words shook him out of his reverie. “Mary, ye shouldnae continue at the theatre.”
A delicate frown creased her brow. “I do not wish to have this argument with you again, Gabe. You know how I feel about being an actress.”
“Aye, I ken ye are athespian,” he sneered the word, feeling like a petulant child, “but te let—nae,encourage—men te ogle ye then te use yer wiles…” That familiar, hated fury gnawed at him again… It was like a festering wound that wouldn’t damn well heal.
* * *
Mary Wright balled her hands into fists as she stared down the man that had once been a dear childhood friend…whom she had thought she would be with forever.
Curse her romantic heart anyway. The man had crushed it long ago and best she remember that.
“It isnae right,” he said.
Mary knew what he thought. He believed the same thing that everyone else believed. She was an actress, after all, and most actresses were considered as good as high-priced whores by London society. Of course, she used that to her advantage in her own way, but while she may not be as pure as the driven snow, she was most assuredly a maiden. Not that Gabe would believe her if she said as much.
Instead, she made the same argument she had made countless times. “It is not as bad as you believe. I love being an actress and I love being a spy. In addition to that, it is the perfect identity for a woman in the Secret Service; men will tell me anything I wish, as they believe me too dimwitted to understand its significance.”
“Ye may believe what ye say, Mary, but yer treated as a common doxy.”
Hurt laced through her. “Yes, of course you would belittle my position in such a manner. Because I could not possibly be capable of separating my spy life from my true self, yes? Ofcoursenot,” her voice veritably dripped with sarcasm, “I will just lift my skirts for any man that walks through my door, like a harlot. Think you I do not understand the difference between the acquisition of intelligence and becoming a man’s lover?”
His blue eyes widened slightly in alarm. “Nae I didnae mean—”
“You have said quite enough, Gabriel. At least I now know what you truly think of me.” With a stubborn ache in her chest, Mary spun on her heel and hurried from the room and down the hall to the hidden servant’s passageway.
Curse Gabriel Ashley anyway.
Mary forced her legs faster down the passage. Would that she could return to her modest apartments and sleep the day away. But no, she must be professional. She would put aside thoughts of her aching heart and would do as she was taught.
Tonight was the last performance ofLover’s Vows—written by the talented Mrs. Elizabeth Inchbald—at the Theatre Royal. She would conclude her role with one last assignment—as long as Hydra had a mark for her.
Gabe thought that she used sex to glean information from her marks, but while she did use her sensuality, she by no means had intercourse. After the incident with the men in Carlisle, Mary had become hesitant and nervous around men, which put a damper on her lessons. As a means to harness her newfound fear of men, Mary wished to use their own barbaric nature against them.
Per her request, Kieran Richards—or as the spies in the Secret Service fondly called him, Hermes—had introduced her to a very unique instructor. Mary now knew how to bring men fulfilment with the sway of her hips or the tip of her finger.
Her newfound knowledge did not entirely remove her fear and trepidation, but it certainly gave her the confidence to face men and know that she could use her body and mind to control any circumstance that she might find herself in.
She made her way down the narrow servant’s stairwell and through the winding passage until she reached the stone façade of the back side of a fireplace. She lifted her hand and thudded her fist three times on the warm stone, then waited. She could hear the soft footfalls on the other side of the thick stone before a responding thump. Mary quickly rapped twice, paused, then rapped thrice more in their practiced routine.
