Chapter 18
Gabe watched Mary’s swaying bottom with a lustful gaze as she left the room with the maid. He told himself it was purely because it was what his character would do, but somewhere in the back of his mind Gabe knew that was a lie.
It felt shameful, the way his body reacted when Mary was near…when Mary was touching him, licking him, kissing him. It was a natural response to such petting and teasing, but damn it, this was Mary!
His body wanted her; there was no question of that. It was his mind…his mind that told him it was wrong. His mind that rebelled whenever she pressed her sweet bottom over the hardness in his lap. His mind that told him she was untouchable.
It was a shame that his mind was right.
His gaze turned upwards as the butler appeared in the parlour’s doorway.
“The Marquess of Hale and his lady,” he announced.
Mr. Jenkins stepped aside with a bow so low that Gabe thought uneasily that the old man might not be able to right himself again.
From behind the butler came a sturdy-looking man of middling age, though rather robust in health, with greying brown hair and black eyes. He was dressed as any respectable lord would; his shirt was crisply white, his waistcoat of the finest silk, his coat and trousers a popularly chosen midnight blue, and his cravat pin as black as obsidian. Beside him stood the woman that was obviously his mistress. She was a young, frightened woman with cropped, short black curls and a demure brown travelling frock. Her eyes cast downward as her lover greeted the room with an affable smile.
Lord Hale wore a mask of wellness and congeniality, but Gabe sensed something dark lurking deep within. One look at him and Gabe understood why he was on Hydra’s list of traitorous suspects.
“Greetings!”
The lords Sheffield and Pondridge rose and greeted the newest arrival. Abiding by propriety, Gabe rose from his seat and bowed as well.
“Who is this?” Hale pointed at Gabe.
“My name is Mr. Anthony Spencer, my lord.”
Hale grunted.
Lord Pondridge took a gulp of his brandy and smiled unsteadily. “Spencer here is with the legendary actress, Miss White.”
“The devil you say?” Hale’s eyebrows rose. “That’s another bet at White’s that I’ve lost. Tell me, is she as good as they say?”
Gabe swallowed down some bile as he affected a grin. “Better.”
“Lucky man, lucky man, wot? Where the deviliseveryone? I was told this was a house party, not a boring week of watching men lay about.”
Lord Sheffield laughed, his belly jiggling. “A few of the ladies have gone for a turn about the garden and the others are out for a hunt.”
“Ah.” Hale turned to his mistress. “Sit.”
As his mistress did as he demanded, perching carefully on the edge of a chair, Hale went to the sideboard and poured himself a healthy dram of whisky before sitting on the chaise. Hale then snapped his fingers and pointed to his lap, his mistress obediently moving to sit upon his thighs.
Where is Mary?
Gabe bowed to the room. “Please excuse me, my lords.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and exited into the corridor in search of Mary. He traversed the halls that led to their bedchamber, each moment seemingly taking longer than the last. He finally reached their room and went inside. Neither Mary nor the maid was anywhere to be seen.
He cursed under his breath and returned to the hall. He took several long strides down the corridor when he heard the telltale murmuring of voices coming from one of the adjacent rooms.
His senses alert, Gabe sidled up to the door and pressed his ear to the cool wood.
“Oh!” Mary’s lowered voice said. “I’m so glad you’ve come. I’ve missed you.”
Gabe felt his stomach flutter with…anger, he was certain, at the muffled male voice that replied. He and Mary were partners on this assignment. They were meant to be lovers, and he had no intention of being cuckolded, even if it was an artificial romantic alliance.
Without waiting another moment, Gabe burst into the room, the door crashing against the wall as it swung violently open.
