Mary
Feeling very much like a doll her Aunt Elizabeth and Arabella were dressing, Mary slowly spun around for their approval. It had been hours since decamping to her room, and they had only paused briefly for a quick tea and a bite to eat before launching back into their mission. Outside of her ballgowns and nightrails, she did not think there was a single item of clothing she had not tried on for their perusal.
“I think this is it,” Aunt Elizabeth said slowly, sending a wave of relief through Mary. “No need for a pelisse with this one.”
“I agree.” Arabella’s statement was more definitive. “With her black gloves and hat.”
“Yes.” Aunt Elizabeth nodded. “We can add a bronze feather and ribbon quickly enough.”
“You are going to set them on their heels.” Arabella sounded almost triumphant, but then, she enjoyed setting the ton on their heels on a regular basis. It had never been a particular goal of Mary’s, but now the moment was upon her, she did feel a strange kind of excitement.
Turning back to face herself in the mirror, Mary had to admit the other two women were right. The bronze dress was trimmed with heavy black lace, emphasizing her hourglass curves and adding some decoration—unfortunately, with her height, she was unable to wear ruffles without resembling a confection rather than a grown woman. The color brought out the bit of red left in her hair in a flattering manner that also brought a hint of pink to her cheeks and lips and made her eyes glow like jewels. Not in the way that Hartford’s did, but still an interesting effect.
All in all, she looked like the kind of woman Hartford would take riding through Hyde Park, even if she did not feel any different.
It was a dress Mary had avoided previously, knowing the gown would draw attention. In for a penny, in for a pound. Hopefully, Evie would consider Mary’s new connection to Hartford a fair recompense for the loss of her ability to blend into the background. Aunt Elizabeth and Arabella had convinced her she would be at the center of the ton’s attention after this.
As Arabella sat down with Mary’s hat, picking out a ribbon to tie around its base, Aunt Elizabeth pulled Mary aside. Her dark eyes were serious, not exactly concerned, but something close to that emotion. Taking Mary’s hands in hers, she was clearly in earnest.
“Mary, darling, I want you to understand, you do not need to encourage Hartford unless you wish to,” she said almost somberly. “One thing his attention will do is draw other gentlemen to your side. It will be your chance to get to know more of them without having to chase them down. Marriage is for the rest of your life. Choose a man who will make you happy.”
“Would a man who was only interested in me because of another man truly make a good prospect?” Mary had to ask, wrinkling her nose. Aunt Elizabeth grinned, and Arabella outright laughed.
“It did not turn out too badly between Thomas and me,” Arabella said, looking up from her work with a wink. Mary’s lips settled into a little ‘o.’ She had been aware Thomas had not considered Arabella for his bride, but he had not liked that Hartford did. Eventually, his intervention in that relationship had ended in the scandal that pushed them into marriage.
“Your uncle was only interested in me because his ‘great rival’ was,” Aunt Elizabeth told them, releasing Mary’s hands and grinning widely with amusement. “Baron Huss. The two of them were constantly at odds. I had no interest in the baron, but I fell in love with Henry almost immediately and he with me, no matter that he had only approached me to annoy Huss. He had not intended to marry that Season.” She shrugged, and both Arabella and Mary giggled.
Hmm, put that way, it did not sound so bad. At least her mission to find a husband this Season was well underway. Whether this would help or hinder her investigations remained to be seen.
Rex
Arriving promptly on the hour, Rex was amused to find both Hood brothers in residence when he knocked on the door. Walter had more reason to frown than his older brother did, though. Walter knew what Rex got up to, while Thomas only suspected.
“Hartford.”
“Hood.”
“There you are!” Arabella’s delighted tones drifted down the stairway as she hurried down to meet him, causing the older Hood brother to scowl. Rex thought Walter looked a touch relieved. It must be a hard position to be in, wanting to defend his cousin to someone who knew his great secret. He would have to reassure Walter that nothing between himself and Miss Wilson would affect Walter’s standing with the Society, and that he would be upfront with Miss Wilson before she agreed to marry him.
Lord Thomas would receive no such reassurances. He likely would not believe them, anyway, and it was much more fun not to give them.
“Lady Arabella.” Rex bowed as she came to a halt before him. Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips for a kiss. Her husband growled under his breath and stepped forward to put his arm around her waist, although he refrained from actually physically pulling her away. “A pleasure as always.”
“Mary is just about ready,” she told him gleefully in a manner that made his wariness rise. “Wait ’til you see her!”
About to reassure Arabella he was looking forward to just that, movement at the top of the stairs caught his attention. Looking up, the words flew out of his head.
Dear Lord.
It was as if the version of Miss Wilson he had only met privately had suddenly taken physical form. Certainly, she had never been outfitted this smartly with the clear intent to draw the eye. The dress hugged her curves, every line of it perfectly fitted to her stature. Her hair was pulled back, curls spilling down the back of her coiffure, a hat perched precariously before them, the ends of a bronze ribbon hanging down to brush against her shoulder. Her skin and hair seemed to glow against the fabric, her eyes blazingly bright, and lips pinkly perfect.
Rex stared up at her, mouth hanging slightly open in stunned admiration before Arabella giggled and brought him back to himself. He quickly realized he was not the only one so affected—both of the Hood brothers were staring at their cousin as if they had never seen her. She might not be a Diamond of the First Water, but she was the epitome of an English Rose and a Pocket Venus, rolled into one.
People were going to notice.
Which she deserved, much as he disliked the thought. If she had any evening gowns of this caliber, she was likely to cause a stampede at the next ball she attended, especially once it became known he was courting her. Rex didn’t fool himself. He knew his interest in her would beget more interest. He had not expected her to change her stripes so quickly, though.
It was not until Miss Wilson cast an appealing look at Arabella, he realized she was uncomfortable with the sudden silence and scrutiny. From the satisfaction on Viscountess Hood’s face, walking up behind Miss Wilson to look down at the assemblage, he felt fairly certain the Viscountess and Arabella had more to do with Miss Wilson’s new appearance than Miss Wilson herself.
“Gorgeous,” Arabella said immediately, clapping her hands. Thomas Hood grunted as his wife’s elbow dug into his side. “You look even more splendid out here in the hall, Mary.”
As the Hood brothers added their own compliments, Rex moved past them to the bottom of the staircase so he could meet her, his gaze never leaving hers. A tiny blush pinked her cheeks by the time she reached him, and she bit her lower lip nervously. Taking her hand in his, Rex bowed over it.
“You are an English rose in bloom,” he said sincerely, surprising himself with the poetry of his words, a pastime which had ever appealed to him. He was rewarded when the flush on her cheeks spread, and the wariness in her expression receded. On the stairs above her, the Viscountess nodded her approval.
“Thank you.” The quiet candor of her gratitude tugged at something in Rex’s chest.
“Shall we?” he asked, turning so he could transfer her hand to his arm. Giving Miss Wilson’s cousins a regal nod and Arabella a wink, he escorted Miss Wilson out the door to his curricle, a strange feeling of triumph pulsing through him.
Mary
The magnificent pair of greys harnessed to Hartford’s curricle could only hold Mary’s attention—and the conversation—for so long before they fell to a slightly uncomfortable silence. At least, she felt uncomfortable while he seemed to be perfectly content, although he did have the driving to focus on. The horses were so well trained, they could not be taking up all of his attention.
Sitting next to him, with no conversation, she could not help noticing how much of the seat he took up, his thigh pressing against the side of hers, his elbow moving against her arm as he handled the reins. Every part of her body felt extra sensitive in his presence, little prickles moving over her skin, especially where they touched.
She needed some kind of conversation to distract herself from her body’s unnerving reaction.
“What is your club called?” She tilted her head toward him, watching his profile. One edge of his lip quirked, but that was his only reaction.
“Which club?”
“You know which club.” The words came out almost accusingly, and he chuckled.
“You mean the club you are not supposed to know about?”
“I mean the club you will have to tell me about if you want me to believe you have any true interest in courting me.” Mary turned her nose up, facing forward again, her temper stirred. He could not truly expect to marry a woman and keep such a large part of his life separate from her, could he? Well, she supposed he could. There were many among the ton who lived separate lives, but Mary did not think she wanted that. For some reason, she did not think he did, either. “I will not marry a man known to run a secret club without knowing more about it. I do not like to blindly walk into situations.”
“Fair enough.” He paused for a moment, steering the horses around a cart on the side of the street and likely giving himself a moment to think. “We call it the Society of Sin, or more often, the Society.”
“And are you all sinners?” she quipped, half-serious. She did not know how much of the group’s activities she had actually witnessed. Could there be more?
“To one degree or another,” he answered affably, one shoulder lifting in an insouciant shrug. “There are many things Society considers sinful, but which harm no one. Whereas many are harmed by the very same people sitting in judgment of others. The Society is for those of us who do not care to be bound by Society’s strictures or sometimes, its laws.” There was a strange tightness to his voice, almost of anger, which drew Mary’s attention.
“You do not care much for the ton?” She was truly curious, as his attitude was highly unusual for someone who was ranked so highly within it. There were certain benefits that came with his title, allowing him to move through Society, no matter how scandalous his behavior became. While some of those among the lower echelons grumbled, those solidly entrenched in the top tiers seemed to take their privileges for granted.
Hartford snorted with disgust.
“Society is a pit of vipers, always watching and waiting for someone to fall, and very often, their reprobation falls on the wrong person. They do not care, so long as they have a carcass to pick over.” He turned the curricle toward the park entrance. “There are exceptions, of course, but as a rule… ah, and here we go. Not just a pit of vipers, but all of them neatly lined up for us, waiting to sink their teeth into the juicy gossip that the Marquess of Hartford is courting Miss Mary Wilson.”
“If they even know my name,” Mary said, bemused enough to be bluntly honest with him without thinking about it. He was right. Several carriages had come to a grinding halt the moment they entered Hyde Park, various monocles and spectacles rising to noses to see just who was accompanying the notorious Marquess of Hartford.
If a misstep occurred between them, it would be Mary’s reputation that would suffer. There might be a few who blamed Hartford for any scandal, but really, most of them would say, what could she have expected, becoming involved with him?
Sighing, she sat up straighter, noticing several approving nods from the ladies examining her appearance. Thanks to Aunt Elizabeth and Arabella, none of them could ridicule her presentation, even if they did not know who she was.
“Rotten Row, first,” Hartford said. “We should let the grande dames inspect us, lest they feel affronted at not being the first in-the-know.”
For one who disdained Society, he understood it very well. Mary nodded her agreement.
Rex
Miss Wilson turned out to have a rather wicked, if quiet, sense of humor. Freed from the social constraints of polite conversation by their odd beginnings and his frank confessions about his views of Society, she apparently felt free to make all sorts of observations sotto voce as he drove through the park. More than once, Rex found himself stifling a laugh, doing his best to keep his expression properly somber. She wasn’t cruel in her witticisms, but like him, she clearly had no patience for hypocrisy or duplicity, both of which were rife among the ton.
A familiar rider approached on a large bay horse, fixing Rex with a dark frown as he came closer. It took Rex a few minutes to place the Earl of Durham. It had been years since they had seen each other at school. They had not been friends, but not enemies, either. He could not understand why the man was frowning at him until he felt Miss Wilson perk up beside him. The earl’s gaze shifted and softened. Ah, they were acquainted, enough so, Durham felt protective.
Exasperation threaded through Rex’s emotions. First the Hood brothers, now Durham. Did they really think he would abscond with a debutante, ravish her, and go on his merry way? Miss Wilson’s family he could almost understand. She was in their care, and Thomas Hood did not know him personally. Durham should know better, though.
“Elijah!” Miss Wilson beamed, and Durham’s expression turned to a fond smile. A little trickle of jealousy pricked Rex, but he ignored it. There was nothing in Miss Wilson’s demeanor to indicate there was an understanding of any kind between them, even if she knew him well enough to call him by his Christian name. “I did not expect to see you here.”
“I could say the same,” Durham said amiably, although his blue eyes were icy when he turned them on Rex, a sharp contrast to his brown hair. “Hartford.”
“Durham.” Rex let a touch of reproof color his tone. Seriously, he wasn’t going to tarnish Miss Wilson’s reputation just by taking her for a drive—far from it. Everyone knew he was searching for a wife. Miss Wilson frowned, looking back and forth between them, clearly sensing the growing undercurrent of tension.
“Do you two know each other?”
“We went to school together,” Durham said. “We had some common interests. Things that most leave behind after their youth.”
Rex rolled his eyes. For whatever reason, Durham had turned into a stuffy prig over the years. Otherwise, Rex might have invited him to join the Society, but when he had once broached the subject, Durham had scolded him for not outgrowing his ‘youthful endeavors.’ If Durham wanted to deny that side of himself, that was his problem.
“Like what?” Miss Wilson asked, so artlessly and innocently, Rex almost choked on a laugh. The little minx. She knew exactly what and clearly enjoyed the way her question made Durham color up and squirm in his saddle.
“Never mind, ’tis not important.” Durham gave her another nod, then met Rex’s gaze. “I happened to see you and wanted to say hello.”
He was ensuring Rex knew Miss Wilson had allies. That was what he wanted. Rex barely managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes again.
“Well, hello, then,” Miss Wilson said cheerily, easily breaking the tension between the two men and nearly causing Rex to snort again. “It was lovely to see you. Will you be at the Farthingale’s ball this evening?”
“I just might.” Durham nodded again sharply before turning his horse off onto another path, looking over his shoulder as he went.
“Do you think he expects you to ravish me here on the carriage seat?” Miss Wilson murmured.
This time, Rex did not bother to stifle his reaction—grinning widely, he caused a small stir among the barouches where Ladies Jersey and Cowper were watching them intently. The gossip would be flying this afternoon.
“Well, you are wearing a very fetching dress,” he riposted. Miss Wilson preened. Rex shifted in his seat, trying not to think too hard about how much fun it would be to ravish her in the middle of Hyde Park. He diverted his attention back to the horses before he proved Durham’s suspicions correct.