“Sorry, darling.” Her eyes sharpened. “We have quite run out of time.”
Without further warning, Mary was across the carriage. She lifted her skirts, straddled his lap, and pulled open the ties of her cloak to reveal her daringly cut red gown.
Arousal. Swift and hot, and undeniably thrilling. Sensations jolted through him as he stared, wide-eyed at the upper swells of Mary’s breasts. With a grunt of frustration, Mary grabbed his hands and placed one on her left breast and the other at the back of her neck. Gabe’s breath caught in his throat as Mary arched her back and closed her eyes in apparent bliss.Oh Lord.
He inhaled deeply of her rose scent, the flower coiling in him and catching somewhere near his heart. He could feel the heat of her through his gloves and their layers of clothing. She was hot. And damn it, so was he.
The door swung open, bringing in a waft of fresh, damp spring air, and Gabe’s arousal fled instantly. This little show was not inspired by a sudden attack of want for him, then. How oddly disappointing.
“Beg pardon, sir,” the red-faced footman said, averting his eyes. “Should I close the door again?”
Gabe pasted a cock-sure smile on his lips and patted Mary’s bottom. “Not at all, lad. Off you go, sweetheart, it would appear we’ve arrived.”
Mary bit her lip seductively as she dismounted and Gabe’s heart skipped a beat. This might very well be more difficult than he had ever imagined.
Gabe sat back as Mary accepted the footman’s hand and descended the steps, while another held out an umbrella to protect her from the rain. He waited a moment more before following her out.
As he exited, Gabe looked dispassionately at the grandeur of Kerr House. Mr. Anthony Spencer would not be awed by the red brick façade, grand columns surrounding the portico, myriad glowing windows, countless puffing chimneystacks, and expansive surrounding gardens that, even in the dense sheet of rain, was marvellous to behold. No, indeed.
“La, what a grand home!” Mary exclaimed, grinning up at the front entrance.
Gabe gripped her hand from beneath her gaping cloak and wrapped it around his elbow, the footmen flanking them with cover as they strode up the wide staircase. One side of the double-wide front doors opened to allow them entrance. Several footmen in bright, canary yellow livery stood to the right of the door and another man of advanced years in orange livery detailed in yellow—one could only assume he was the butler—stood to the left.
The scent of melted beeswax and vinegar cleaning solution hit him like a slap to the face upon entry.
The man in orange bowed. “Welcome sir, madam. Mr. Spencer and Miss White, I presume?” His voice echoed in the grand space.
“Quite so, quite so,” Gabe said as he took in the ostentatious foyer.
White marble and gold flake abounded in the two-story entry. A double winding staircase encircled the far end of the room, leading to the second story landing.
The man held out his hands and Gabe and Mary automatically began handing him their outer wear: Gabe’s hat and gloves and Mary’s gloves and cloak.
“My name is Mr. Jenkins,” the man said, “I am his lordship and her ladyship’s butler. Do follow me, if you will, and I will lead you to your room.”
With jovial smiles, Mary and Gabe followed the aging butler up one side of the marble staircase to the second floor. While Mary was fully established in her role, Gabe’s thoughts were consumed with what had just occurred in the carriage. And he was mightily displeased.
He followed numbly as his thoughts pestered him. Did she behave in such a manner with all the men she came across at the theatre? She was certainly practiced in the art of seduction and the ways of enticing a man, which would lead him to believe that yes, indeed, she had used such wiles with other men. Gabriel was just one of many.
A thunderous frown crossed his features before he could conceal it. Gabe was grateful that no one had witnessed it. But damn it, Mary’s position as an actress and spy rankled.
“Here we are, the puce room. One of our finest.” The butler swept one arm into the doorway, allowing Mary and Gabe to enter first.
The guest bedchamber was indeed puce.Exceedinglypuce. The wall coverings, window dressings, bedclothes, carpet, even the furniture’s upholstery were the same dark shade. Without the light coming through the open window and the bright firelight, the room would be black as night with the gloomy trappings and dark wood furniture absorbing any possible natural light the room would hold.
“La, what a beautiful colour!” Mary breathed, running a fingertip over the puce velvet bed curtains.
Hardly, Gabe thought. It was a hideous reddish-brown. He did not know very much French, but he knew that “puce” came from the Latin word “pulicem,” meaning “flea-colour.”
Two footmen entered with their trunks and placed them on the floor at the foot of the bed.
“I am afraid that the lady’s maids are all occupied at the moment with the other ladies just arrived and preparing for supper.”
Mary waved a hand through the air. “Oh, that is quite all right. I am rather used to dressing myself.”
With a nod, the butler continued. “The washbasin and a fresh pitcher of water are on the washstand under that window there,” the butler pointed to the far wall, then nodded toward the privacy screen in the closest right corner of the room, just before the bed. “That screen conceals the privy and other necessary instruments for your ablutions. The wardrobe is through those doors,” he pointed to the far-right corner of the room, where a set of doors stood closed.
“Thank you, sir,” Gabe said. “I believe we are able to find the rest on our own.”
