He smiled to himself at the mention of his new, very pregnant wife, and Mary could not help the small burst of envy that sprang through her. Would that she could have a man who adored her as much as Hydra adored his wife.
“Thank you, Hydra.”
Mary pulled a gown and underthings from her wardrobe, then disappeared behind the privacy screen.
Foregoing the use of stays or a corset, Mary put a simple gown of brown over her shift and petticoats. It was not a gown one would see among the gentry, to be sure, but it was one of her favourites. It reminded her of chocolate.
Mary grinned as she fastened her stockings to her garters.
She slid her feet into her slippers and pulled her pelisse over her dress before emerging from behind the screen. Hydra straightened from his relaxed position by the door as Mary retrieved her matching brown bonnet.
“Will you not do your hair?”
Mary could not help but tease him. “Is it really that dreadful?”
She laughed outright at the look of alarm on his features. “Be at ease, Hydra, I plan to wear a bonnet.” She knotted her hair at the base of her neck and placed the bonnet atop her head, tying the ribbons beneath her chin.
Hydra held an arm out to her and she accepted, allowing him to lead her through the corridor and out the rear entrance, where they found his carriage waiting.
The cool May night air held a refreshing crispness, devoid of fog. The moon shone gaily in the sky, high above them, the stars demanding acknowledgement with each twinkle. Such was an amazing—and rare—sight in the heart of London, for the evenings were often filled with the dark haze of coal smoke.
They entered the well-sprung equipage, and Mary took the rear-facing seat while Hydra lounged comfortably across from her. The ride was silent yet contented, each lost in their own thoughts.
Outside, carriage wheels clattered over cobblestones and coachmen called warnings to one another. The streets were dense with traffic, the equipages en-route to return their passengers home from balls, soirees, and the theatre. It made Mary grateful that her apartments were an easy distance to the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane.
An image of Gabriel’s scowling face at her choice of location raced to the foreground of her mind and she frowned in return. He had never been approving of her choices. Shame on her for allowing his admonitions to affect her so. And, dash it, shame on her for allowing him to monopolize her thoughts.
She had embarrassed herself in the theatre this evening. While the audience might not have noticed her drop of character, Mary certainly had.
The carriage rolled to a halt before her modest apartments, the springs bouncing as the footman descended from his rear perch before the door swung open, bringing with it a gust of cool night air. The footman lowered the steps and Mary gratefully accepted the young man’s hand as she exited.
She turned to gaze into the dark carriage, where she could see her superior’s outline against the window. “I am much obliged, sir. Good night.”
He nodded. “Until tomorrow, Mary.”
“Oh, and Hydra?” She paused. “You make an excellent inebriate.” She closed the door with his laughter ringing in her ears.
