Chapter 13
Mary took another bite of the nearly inedible jugged hare that sat mostly uneaten on her plate. The others around the table seemed not to notice the ghastly fare, but Mary certainly did. Goodness, even the stews that her mother used to make with little to no food and scarcely any broth were more appetizing than the slop currently sitting on her plate.
A heated waft of breath brushed her cheek and Mary suppressed a shiver of disgust.
“You look ravishing in red, dearest,” Reddington whispered against her ear. “I scarcely recall if I have said as much already this evening, but I confess your beauty quite addles my senses.”
He had been bothering her throughout the entire meal, but Mary accepted it as her due. She must encourage the men enough to discover their hidden truths, after all. She was here on an assignment and she would succeed. No matter what.
Mary put her fork down and turned to smile up at Lord Reddington with a demure tilt to her brows.
“Why, James, you flatter me.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “Upon my life, I do not.”
A group of footmen entered and removed the diners’ plates, while a second group entered to put another odious course in its place. It seemed to be an attempt at partridge fricassee, but Mary was not certain.
She hastily took a sip of the deep red wine in her glass and replaced it on the table. For a moment she watched in a daze as the candlelight played on the swirling liquid.
“My lovely Mary,” Reddington’s lips touched her ear, “tell me you feel it, too…thisheat.”
Alarm shot through Mary’s stomach, but she carefully hid it. Hydra had said that this man was not respectable and likely had ill intentions, and she was inclined to believe him. The nightmare of her experience as a youth flashed through her mind…You will suffer for this…
As the memory of that night assailed her, she did as she always did and used her fear to fuel her determination.
A sense of peace stole over her as she considered her plans. Reddington wished to have her as his mistress, as much was evident. She could never give herself to Reddington—not willingly anyway; she morally refused to give her body to a traitor of the crown. Mary would rather give herself to a man she loved…whenever and whomever that would be. She was, however, more than willing to use anyothermeans necessary to garner the required information. Perhaps she could tease it out of him.
She turned to Reddington with a sultry tilt to her lips, her eyes filled with desire. Then a voice cut through her awareness.
“Mr. Spencer,” Mr. Piper called from down the table, a piece of partridge balled to one side of his open mouth, “why is it that I have never heard of you before now? Seems a trifle odd, eh wot?”
Mary looked at Gabe, who was unfazed by the inquiry. He returned her gaze with a coldness to his eyes that she had never seen on him before. The sight sent a shiver of unease down her spine. His frigid expression swiftly changed to one of self-assured complacency as he turned his head to look down the table.
“Yes,” Lord Kerr put in, his expression stony and his gaze suspicious, “do enlighten us on your mysterious past, Mr. Spencer.”
Gabe’s lips cracked a slow smile. “I wouldn’t say it’s mysterious,” he began. “I spent thirteen years travelling with my uncle in the Americas.”
“Mmm,” Mrs. McArthur hummed. “Adventurous, indeed.”
Lord Sheffield swallowed his bite of partridge, then asked, “What made you decide to leave from the first? Did you not enjoy life in England?”
Gabe’s smile turned sly, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “There was an inn near my familial home that employed averylovely barmaid…”
A few of the men around the table began exchanging grins and knowing glances.
“Needless to say, a few months after reaching my eighteenth year, my father felt it was necessary to ship me off.”
“So now you are returned,” Lord Kerr said before sipping at his coffee. He swallowed. “What brought you home after thirteen years?”
“My uncle left this earth to meet the good Lord, and I made the decision to return. Father was not happy to accept his ne’er-do-well son back into his home, so I took residence here in London. Alas, I met Mary a sennight ago and was enchanted.”
“Aye, Mary does enchant,” Reddington put in. “We must convince her to put on a performance while she is here.”
A chorus of encouragement from the men filled the room and Mary feigned modesty. She had anticipated the request and had Mrs. McPhee create two new costumes for just such an occasion. He was playing perfectly into her plan.
With a shy nod, Mary affected acquiescence. “If you wish it, then I shall.”
“Huzzah!” Reddington exclaimed.
