Mary
He arrived at ten o’clock in the morning, sending the household into a tizzy.
Throwing Mary into a tizzy as well. She had barely sat down to breakfast before he knocked on the door, and Appleby came in to announce the Marquess of Hartford had come to speak with the Viscount. Uncle Henry’s newspaper had lowered, revealing his face, which was a sight not often seen over the breakfast table. Aunt Elizabeth had blinked so rapidly, it looked as though her eyelashes might take off in sudden flight.
“He has?” Arabella asked, frowning, and set down the teacup she had just sipped from. “What does he want?”
Appleby gave her a dry look before stiffly turning his attention back to Uncle Henry.
“I imagine that is for me to find out,” Uncle Henry said, getting to his feet. A deep wrinkle of concern crossed his brow.
“I am coming with you.” Thomas threw his napkin down on the table, springing to his feet, a fierce expression on his face. Uncle Henry nodded while Arabella looked up at him with equal parts fondness and exasperation.
“Do behave,” she admonished. Thomas sent her a stern look, but Mary did not miss the way his hand lingered on Arabella’s shoulder before he followed his father out of the room, leaving the ladies to their breakfast.
Mary felt the megrim she had claimed last night coming on for real. At least her bottom no longer hurt. The soreness had disappeared overnight, but at the very mention of his name, her skin had begun to tingle again—not just there. Her lips, her bottom, between her legs… the phenomenon was disconcerting, to say the least.
She desperately wished she could talk to her friends before she had to face Hartford again, but he had arrived far earlier than she thought he would. Part of her was flattered at how in earnest he was, but it did complicate things.
“What do you think he could want?” Aunt Elizabeth asked Arabella. Neither of them looked at Mary.
Why would they? What could she, a gently reared, shyly retiring, virginal debutante know about the notorious Marquess of Hartford?
Nothing. She should know absolutely nothing.
“I cannot imagine,” Arabella said, sounding almost delighted at her lack of knowledge. Then again, she likely expected to soon learn exactly what he wanted. She would harass Thomas into telling her quickly enough. “I would have thought Papa had business with him, except he seemed as surprised as we are.”
Aunt Elizabeth shook her head. “Henry would have told me.” Drumming her fingers against the table, Mary’s aunt sighed, then frowned. Her gaze drifted over to Mary. Of all her family members, Aunt Elizabeth was the only one who never forgot about Mary, which was something she usually enjoyed… just not right now.
“Mary, are you all right? You look rather flushed.”
Her aunt’s comment had the unfortunate effect of turning Mary’s face even redder as she struggled to think of an appropriate response. Sitting up straight in her seat, Arabella turned her inquisitive gaze on Mary. Blast and damnation. The last thing she needed was Arabella becoming curious.
“Yes, you do.” Her eyes widened, and she turned back to Aunt Elizabeth. “Hartford was introduced to Mary earlier this week.”
“Do you think…” Aunt Elizabeth’s voice trailed off, and she and Arabella focused on Mary, who sank back in her seat, her heart beginning to pound. The two women were intelligent and observant, a dangerous combination. Aunt Elizabeth’s eyes seemed especially sharp right now. “Mary, tell me everything about your interaction with him.”
Rex
It was not a complete surprise when the Viscount entered the room accompanied by his heir, although Rex could have done without the younger Hood’s presence.
“Hartford,” the Viscount said with a correct bow, copied only a moment later by his son.
“Hood.” Rex bowed his head in acknowledgment.
“Please, have a seat.” The Viscount gestured to the armchairs in front of his desk while he moved around to his seat behind it. “Thomas is going to join us. You wished to speak with me?”
Having practiced his speech on the way over, Rex was ready with his answer. He settled into the chair across from the Viscount and made himself comfortable, ignoring Lord Thomas glaring at him from the left.
“You are likely aware I am searching for a bride,” Rex said with a small shrug, answered by the Viscount’s nod. The whole ton was aware at this juncture, and Rex was not one to pretend he was unaware of Society’s interest in him. “I was introduced to your niece, Miss Wilson, earlier this week, and I find myself very taken with her. I would like leave to pay my addresses to her.”
“You want to propose to Mary?” Lord Thomas blurted out, leaning forward, surprise and confusion evident in his voice. Both his father and Rex looked at him with a frown, and he sat back, clearly flustered by his own outburst. “I mean, Mary is a lovely young woman, but she is hardly a match for someone of your… reputation.”
Ah, but if only poor Thomas Hood knew the truth. Rex’s lips twitched, but he kept the smile from his face. Miss Wilson clearly preferred her family not know about her secret adventures, and that suited him well enough. If the Viscount rejected his request, he would play his hand, but until then, he was content to keep it in his back pocket.
“I wish to court Miss Wilson,” he replied, directing his words at Viscount Hood. “If we find we suit, I will propose.”
Beside him, the younger Hood bristled but remained silent, clearly waiting for his father’s verdict—giving off the impression he was sure it would be a resounding negative. The silence stretched as the Viscount contemplated Rex with a serious expression, and Rex looked serenely back at him. While he was by no means sure of his position, one did not refuse a Marquess without good reason.
Finally, the Viscount leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk in front of him.
“Mary has become like a daughter to me,” he said, looking directly into Rex’s eyes. “As both of my other daughters married into my family, she is the first daughter I have whose marriage is my responsibility. I want to be clear. I do not care if she is courted by a prince, a duke, or a businessman without a title to his name. My one and only concern is Mary is happy. You have my permission to pay your addresses to Mary, but she is the one who will ultimately make the decision of who she weds.” He gave Rex a short, sharp nod, and Rex’s estimation of the man went up even more.
There were not many among the ton who would balk at sacrificing a daughter, much less a niece, to gain a connection to a title as lofty as his. Rex had known from the first, all he had to do was pick a chit, and he could likely have her. The only thing that had kept him from doing so were his stringent requirements for his bride.
“Thank you for your permission,” Rex said formally, aware of the younger Hood fuming beside him, put out Rex had not been sent packing. “I can promise you if we were to wed, Miss Wilson’s happiness would be of my utmost concern.”
The words rang surprisingly sincere, causing both of the Hood men to cast thoughtful glances at him, although the younger’s was full of suspicion. Rex was a tad surprised himself by the truth of his assertion. Of course, he had never imagined purposefully making his imagined wife unhappy with him, but until Mary, he had not truly thought to do the opposite.
When he had been courting Arabella, he had felt assured she would secure her own happiness, no matter who she married. They would have had a comfortable friendship and rubbed along together, but he would not have considered himself in any way responsible for her happiness. With Mary, he felt decidedly different, despite her brazen actions, which bespoke her pursuit of enjoyment. While she might not be as publicly dedicated to satisfying herself, she had gone looking for what she wanted. Yet, for some reason, he still wanted to be the one to ensure she received it.
Eventually, he was going to need to examine that impulse more closely.
Mary
There was no inquisition like that of a matchmaking mama, scenting a possible hunt, even if Aunt Elizabeth was her mother’s sister and not her own mother. Being questioned so closely by an expert was truly unnerving, especially with everything she had to leave out.
She could hardly admit to following him out of the ballroom onto the darkened garden walks, where he had kissed her, and she certainly could not confess the events of the night prior. To give her aunt and Arabella something to mull over, other than the introduction Arabella had witnessed, she disclosed running into him in the hall when he had come by the house the other day, but she could not divulge all of that encounter, either.
With such limited information to dissect, the two ladies picked apart the possible meanings behind every word exchanged between Mary and Hartford, of which there were not many. She wanted to moan and bang her head on the table when she realized how little Hartford’s interest in her made sense. If she could tell them the whole truth…
They would have her married off to him before she could blink. He had been right. Despite the fact she was still a virgin, the ton would not care. Just being at his house without a chaperone was enough to irrevocably compromise her reputation, much less at the kind of event he had hosted last night.
The door to the dining room opened, and Mary’s head swiveled on her neck. She was dimly aware of her aunt and Arabella’s movements in unison with hers. Uncle Henry came through the doorway first, followed by Thomas, whose fierce frown morphed into odd compassion when his gaze met hers. She was surprised by the disappointment she felt when Hartford did not follow them.
“Mary, the Marquess of Hartford would like to court you,” Uncle Henry said, sitting down in his seat and picking up his paper as if he had not just dropped news guaranteed to shock. “He will return this afternoon to take you for a ride in Hyde Park if you wish.”
“Henry!” Aunt Elizabeth shrieked her husband’s name, her hand coming down flat on the table with a bang that made them all jump. Uncle Henry’s newspaper came down again, and Aunt Elizabeth glared at him. “What do you mean he wishes to court Mary? What did he say?”
“Exactly what I said.” A little smile played on Uncle Henry’s lips as if he was having a good time at his wife’s expense. “He wishes to pay court to Mary. I told him he had my permission, although whether she eventually accepts his suit would be up to her. You do not have to marry him unless you want to, dear.”
Uncle Henry’s newspaper went back up, covering his face, and Aunt Elizabeth jumped to her feet. For a moment, Mary thought she might throttle her husband, but instead, Aunt Elizabeth turned and looked at Mary, her dark eyes oddly wild.
“Up, Mary, do not just sit there! We have work to do!” She gestured hurriedly and so forcefully, Mary was on her feet before she had a thought.
“Work?” she echoed, feeling adrift.
“Yes, work,” Aunt Elizabeth said, taking Mary by the arm and directing her to the door. “Come, Arabella, we will want your keen eye.”
“What are we doing?” Mary was a bit desperate in her confusion. Everything was moving so quickly, and she had no idea where her aunt was leading her or what she intended.
“Deciding what you are going to wear this afternoon.” From the dire tones of her aunt’s voice, it sounded more like she was declaring they were going to war. Arabella scurried behind them, and when Mary glanced over her shoulder, she could see the excitement on Arabella’s face.
“For a ride in the park?” Granted, this would be the first time a gentleman tooled her about, but she did not think Hartford would care overmuch what she wore. “What is wrong with what I am wearing now?” She liked the pale green walking dress; it was comfortable and pretty and one of the few items which Aunt Elizabeth had felt looked well enough with her blonder hair, so had allowed Mary to keep in her wardrobe.
Aunt Elizabeth came to a grinding halt, turning in front of Mary so she could face her. The gentle expression on her face, as if she was about to tell Mary something frightening, took Mary’s breath away. She had not seen her aunt ever look like this.
“Mary, darling, the Marquess of Hartford is going to be taking you for a ride around Hyde Park. Even if he were not Hartford, but another Marquess, the matrons lined up there will be paying utmost attention.” Aunt Elizabeth’s eyes were full of sympathy as the realities of the situation finally hit home. “This is his public declaration that he will be courting you. Your dresses are no longer just clothing, they are armor to shield and support you. Every eye is going to be on you, and we are going to ensure they see a beautiful, well dressed, utterly respectable debutante who has caught the Marquess’ interest.”
“You are going to be mobbed after this,” Arabella added cheerfully, coming up beside her to pat Mary’s arm comfortingly. Unlike Aunt Elizabeth, she seemed positively gleeful at the attention that was about to come down on them. “Do not worry, Mary, we will help you manage.”
Double blast.
Mary gulped. This was far more complicated than she had bargained for… but what choice did she have? How was she going to keep investigating the members of Hartford’s club if everyone would be paying unprecedented attention to her?
Rex
To while away the hours waiting until he could return to Hood House, Rex made his way through Mayfair to Jermyn Street. Not needing the large house entailed to the Devon earldom, but in dire need of money, Lucas rented it out every Season while taking up residence on the well-known bachelor street instead.
Lucas had never appeared at Hood House for the Masquerade, begging the question, where had he been instead?
Relieved at escaping the possibility of drama, Rex had still worried all night about what his old friend might have been up to—and how much it would cost him to bail Lucas out. Two knocks on Lucas’ door and it opened to reveal Barnes, Lucas’ man and only servant, looking somber.
“M’lord.” Barnes bowed, then backed away, opening the door. They were well acquainted after so many years. Barnes had been with Lucas’ father before his passing and stayed on to assist the son, even though Lucas was never properly thankful for it. Rex was the one who made sure Barnes was taken care of, which in turn, allowed him to be sure Lucas was not left completely to his own devices. “The earl is…” His voice trailed off, and he made a face.
“Still three sheets to the wind?” Rex asked dryly. It was only mid-morning. Likely, Lucas had stumbled home in the wee hours around dawn if his past was any indication. Barnes nodded.
“He came home about three hours ago, blootered.” Barnes sighed. “Barely made it up the stairs before I caught him. He won’ be much use to ya for another few hours at least, if then.”
That hardly mattered. If he was sleeping off his indulgence, he was staying out of other trouble and may even stay in for the rest of the day and evening.
“Do you know where he went?”
“He left to have dinner at White’s, then I thought he would be for your place, m’lord, but when he came home, he said something about the Tramp’s Den.” Barnes grimaced, shooting Rex an apologetic look when he groaned, but it was hardly Barnes’ fault his master had gone to one of the most notorious gaming hells in London rather than to Hartford House.
“Did he say how much he lost?”
“Tha’ was the strange thing, he didna seem much concerned.” Reaching up, Barnes smoothed down the white strands of his long whiskers, a nervous gesture. They both knew Lucas rarely won, and when he lost, he was melancholy afterward, sometimes for days, depending on the amount. Sometimes, Rex thought Lucas resented being bailed out as much as he appreciated it. “I don’ know what to make of it.”
“I will take care of it,” Rex said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a coin to press into Barnes’ hand. “For your troubles.”
“Thank ye, m’lord.” Barnes bobbed his head but did not protest the way he once had. They both knew he earned every pound Rex gave him, even if it was not actually Rex’s place to pay it. If not him, then who? Certainly, not Lucas.
Sighing, Rex turned around and made his way back to his carriage. Once again, he wondered if he should leave Lucas to face the natural consequences of his actions… but truly, it did not harm him to compensate for Lucas’ shortcomings. Not so far. And others, like Barnes, would suffer if he did not.
He also had no wish to see Lucas suffer, so he got into his coach and directed the driver to take him to the Warrens.
An hour later, he left the gaming hell with a frown. Lucas’ debts had already been covered by Lucas’ companion, a man whose description Rex did not recognize. By the accent described, the man must be part of the Russian delegation. What the devil was he doing gambling at the Tramp’s Den with Lucas?