Mary caught Gabe’s cold gaze from across the table and another shiver ran down her spine. She fought down her own frown as she turned back to her meal. A pox on Gabe and his ever-present disapproval.
“What happened to your face, Spencer?” Mrs. McArthur said from beside him. She ran her index finger along the line of the red scar on the side of his face, her eyelids heavy. “It looks frightfully dashing.”
“That story is not so amusing, I’m afraid. I stumbled through my previous mistress’ home one evening after a night of revelry and found myself in the kitchens with hunger gnawing at me. A dashed stool came from nowhere and I fell, slicing myself on the way to the floor.”
“I love the Americas,” Lord Sheffield said, either oblivious to the change of subject or ignoring it. “I’ve been there several times myself; I never could get enough of their women.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning a laugh from some of the other guests. “In fact, there was this one woman—”
Mary missed the remainder of his lewd anecdote as dessert appeared before her. Immediately her mouth began to salivate.Thismust be why Lord and Lady Kerr kept their cook in their employ. The smell alone was enough to make Mary swoon.
Practically famished from a lack of eating the dinner’s courses, she dipped her spoon in the exquisite lemon cream and brought it to her mouth.Oh heavens! The explosion of lemon zest, the citrus zing, and the sweetness of the cream combined to make the most sinfully delicious dessert she had ever tasted.
Reddington’s lips brushed the underside of her ear as he breathed, “Keep making sounds like that and I will have to tup you right here…in front of everyone.”
Mary’s eyes snapped open—when had she closed them?—and realized that every man seated at the table had his gaze on her. She must have made a noise, but she was not certain what that noise was. Clearly it had been loud enough to gain the attention of the table.
Mortification would have swamped her had their shock-lined expressions not enhanced her purpose. Lowering her gaze to her bowl, Mary determinately ignored them and returned to her delectable dessert.
Slowly, the others resumed their private conversations and bawdy joke telling.
“Mary, say you will come to me tonight.” Reddington’s scotch-scented breath wafted around her.
The man’s whispering in her ear had become vexing, indeed. She put a placating smile on her face as she turned to him. “I do not believe that Tony would take kindly to my abandoning him in a strange home.”
Reddington inclined his head toward Gabe’s seat across from them. “I do not think it would be such a hardship. It seems as though yourTonyis occupied.”
Mary’s gaze swung toward Gabe and her stomach plummeted. He was indeedoccupied. Lady Kerr leaned so far over him that she may well be on his lap. The woman ran her fingers repeatedly up and down his chest and over his smoothly shaven jaw, whispering in—nay,biting—his ear. He laughed charmingly at something she said, and Mary’s stomach knotted.Goodness, could she be jealous? Of another woman withGabriel?
Oh dear. She must rein in her emotions immediately. Jealousy had no place in the heart of a spy, and she certainly could not afford to make any mistakes. For all she knew they were surrounded by the enemy. Any leak in her façade, any misstep, could put their lives in jeopardy. Whatever her apparent soul-deep feelings toward Gabe, she must let them go. He’d crushed her heart years ago, surely she could stomach seeing him with another woman—anywoman. Indeed. She should hate him, not be harbouring amorous feelings for him.
Curse it. She was a spy. And she had work to do.
* * *
Gabe took a deep swill of his wine and wished it were something stronger. Lady Kerr and Mrs. McArthur would not leave him be, and he had work to accomplish. Lady Kerr was all but on his lap and her offers for sex were becoming anything but subtle. Mrs. McArthur, however, had placed her hand on his thigh sometime during the course of the hideously unpalatable jugged hare and had not removed it since. In fact, she seemed to be sliding it ever so slightly upward with each passing minute.
Hemustfocus on the mission at hand… If only these curst women would desist their pawing and petting and let him concentrate on discovering who had stolen the documents.
The suspected traitors that Hydra had named were, firstly, the Marquess of Hale, though he had yet to arrive and Sir Stevens was reportedly already watching him for suspicious behaviour. Secondly, the Viscount Kerr—
Gabe turned his gaze to the head of the table, two seats to his left. The Viscount appeared at his ease, resting against the back of his chair, a glass of wine in one relaxed hand and a spoon in the other. He exuded confidence and held himself in the manner of a man entirely assured of himself and his position. Gabe believed Hydra justified in his suspicions of Kerr. The man had to be hiding something.
The third suspect listed was the Earl of Reddington.
His gaze flicked toward the blasted Earl and again he felt a jolt of displeasure through his gut. The man was a scoundrel and a rogue and Gabe wished Mary would keep well enough away from him.
Lady Kerr said something provocative in his ear and Gabe gave a responding noncommittal grunt.
Mary tittered at somethingthe cadwhispered in her ear and Gabe frowned. Lord knew what despicable acts she had had to perform for the man in order to receive an invitation to this sennight of sin.
“Goodness,” Lady Kerr murmured in his ear, “what a severe look upon your handsome face.” She leaned in closer. “Forget about the actress, darling, and leave her to James. My lover would not mind sharing me…”
Gabe did not hear the rest of the lady’s sentence, as Reddington sidled closer to Mary, raising his arm to drape it over the back of her chair. He cupped the back of her head, mussing her striking auburn hair, then pressed his lips to her neck in a series of small kisses.
Gabe saw red. Anger, swift and blistering, sizzled its way through him, forcing him to his feet, his chair scraping against the wooden floor and gaining him the attention of the other guests.
Thinking quickly, Gabe pasted a genial smile on his lips and clapped his hands together jovially. “I believe I would enjoy a glass of port and a good cigar.”
“Here, here!” Mr. Jackson waved a bejewelled hand toward the dining room door. “Send the ladies off to the parlour or somesuch and leave us to our port, cigars, and manly conversation.”
