Mary rubbed her shoulder as the bossy little maid shoved her into her chamber. The girl had tugged and pulled her arm so hard it ached.
“Mademoiselle. Come.”
She followed the girl around to the dressing chamber, where Greene looked up. “Tsk-tsk.”
Mary narrowed her gaze at her maid. “Not a single word from you.”
“My lady, it is so unlike you to get caught. What happened?”
Sneaking about without Lady Frances to guide her was extremely challenging. She had entered Gilbert’s room like a bumbling fool. Having grown up with three brothers who had no qualms boasting about their activities during some rather formative years, Mary was fully aware of what a man and woman could engage in behind closed doors.
Cool air hit her skin as the French maid stripped her of her dress.
Greene jumped up. “Oh no, you don’t. She is my mistress.”
Thank the heavens Mary’s maid slipped a plain nightgown over her head.
The French maid approached Mary with a face brush covered in powder. “Come.”
Greene reached for the brush. “What are you doing? She is for bed, not a ball!”
Within seconds, the two were battling for control.
The feisty little French girl spat out, “My master wants your mistress. Tonight. We must make her look white.”
Greene froze. “What?”
Mary grabbed the brush and held it above her head. “What is your name?”
“Aimée.”
“How did you hear of your master’s plans?”
“Sometimes my master, he talks to himself. Mon frère is a footman. He overheard Monsieur le Duc say he would come to your room.”
“Greene, step aside and let Aimée make me look like I’m on my death bed.”
Her maid sneezed as she was surrounded by a plume of powder. Her entire body and nightgown were covered with the white substance. Each maid grabbed a hand and pulled Mary over to the large canopy bed. She crawled between the sheets and lay flat on her back.
Her mind swirled. Why would her cousin wish to seek her out in her chambers? She let out a loud sneeze. This was foolishness. There must be some misunderstanding.
Mary sat up to share her thoughts, but she found herself being pushed back down by Aimée, who tucked the sheet under Mary’s chin and said, “Stay. I will bring you your dinner.”
Aimée hopped down from the bed and turned to Greene. “Do not allow her to move. If my master comes, you go”—the French maid pointed to the adjoining chamber and pretended to stomp as she continued—“trample on the floor three times and three times again. One of us will come.”
Mary called out as the maid turned to leave, “Wait. I want to ask you a question.”
“Oui.”
“Has your master ever mentioned a Lord Burke?”
The maid screwed up her face. “Oui. Lord Burke. He comes and takes the peintures.” The girl put her thumbs and forefingers together to form a square.
“Can you arrange for a message to be delivered to Lord Waterford?”
“Oui.”
Greene frowned and turned toward the door. Mary’s maid had impeccable hearing. Seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Valois himself, elegantly dressed for dinner. With his broad shoulders and narrow waist, the man could definitely attract a woman’s attention.
He leaned casually against the doorframe. “Ma chérie, I heard you were ill and shall not be joining us for dinner.”
“Ah— Yes— I’ve— Well, it’s—”
“You do look pale. Make sure Aimée takes good care of you.” Pushing away from the door, he scanned the room before saying, “I shall see you at breakfast.”
He didn’t wait for a response but simply turned and left.
Aimée shook her head. “I do not think he believes you are ill.”
Mary smiled. After seeing her cousin’s relaxed manner, she believed there had been an enormous misunderstanding. She didn’t think he posed a threat. “My brothers taught me how to defend myself. I’m not afraid of your master should he return later this evening.”
Twisting her skirts with her hands, Aimée said, “His fortune was gone before he inherited. All traded for security during the revolution. He needs to marry a rich woman.”
Was Duc de Valois really a villain?
She needed to find out more information. Many times she had been cast aside for her peculiar behavior. She didn’t want to assume anything. Hadfield had warned her to be wary. Oh, how she wished to confer with Lady Frances. Her head began to ache.
Rubbing her temples, she peeked through half-closed eyelids to see a concerned Aimée leaning over her. “Shall I get a tray?”
Mary murmured, “Please.”
“I won’t be long.” Aimée’s worried features were gone, quickly replaced by Greene’s sweet familiar face.
“All will be well, my lady. I’ll not let anything happen to you.” Greene placed a cool hand on Mary’s forehead. “You do feel rather warm.”
“It’s because you have me under a mountain of blankets.”
Greene grabbed a handful of the covers and pulled them lower. “You have been rather quiet. No mumblings for hours.” Her maid froze and looked back at her. “Now I think of it, you haven’t been yourself for near on a day or so. What is the matter, my lady?”
“Do you find it hard to work for me with my eccentricities?”
“Oh, not at all. You are kind and generous. You never yell at my mistakes or my absentmindedness.” Greene tilted her head and reached to rearrange the covers once more. “I was worried. You seem out of sorts. Forgive me for asking.”
“Stop fidgeting with the sheets. You’re not in trouble. I was curious as to how another might view my sometimes-odd behavior.”
“My lady, you are unique, not odd. It is what makes you special, and I wouldn’t want to serve a boring lady who had no mind nor interesting thoughts.”
“Greene, you can stop with the compliments. I’m fully aware of my shortcomings.”
Greene rolled her eyes. “My lady, you are an extraordinary lady, and I believe Lord Hadfield would appreciate all you have to offer.”
“And what of Lord Waterford?”
Greene tapped a finger upon her lips, deep in thought. “He’s a tortoise. Slow on the uptake. Wise with a hard exterior. But soft and kind on the inside.”
Mary chuckled. Greene straightened, and her nose twitched. Her maid slowly turned to peer at the darkened entrance of the dressing chamber.
Appearing out of thin air, Gilbert stood in the door casing of the adjoining enclosed chamber. Mary’s jaw fell, but she quickly closed her mouth. She peered past the man, now striding across the room. Gilbert was of flesh and blood; he was not one of her guides who could walk through walls.
Greene moved away from the bed and curtsied.
“Where is the little French maid? I told her not to leave until I arrived.” Gilbert’s eyes scanned the room and settled upon Mary’s face. “What have you done to your mistress?”
He bent closer and sneezed. Shaking his head, he said, “Never mind. I can see she is merely covered in powder. You may leave. I shall tend to your lady.”
“Yes, my lord.” Greene scurried to the room he had just entered from.
“Tell me, are there secret servants’ entrances to all the rooms?”
Gilbert brushed his hand over her forehead and down her cheek. “It would appear so. I can’t stay long. I’m due to appear in the dining room, but I wanted to check on you first.”
More likely, he wanted to ensure she hadn’t absconded off somewhere.
Mary batted his hand away, though her traitorous body ached to seek out more of his touches. “The maid informed me that Lord Burke is a frequent visitor, and he often leaves with paintings.”
“Does he, now? How very interesting.”
Why was Gilbert still staring at her? He didn’t appear in the least surprised by the intelligence she had gained and shared. “Theo mentioned in her letter that we are to restore items to their rightful owners, but I’m questioning the assumption that they might have been stolen in the first place.”
“Hmmm—Perhaps before we hand over the paintings, we should investigate further. Do you know if Valois is aware that the paintings are in our possession?”
The bed dipped as Gilbert leaned against it. Cleanly shaven, the man had her pulse racing once more.
Overheated, she pushed back the covers. “I have not informed Valois about the paintings. Perhaps over your meal, you can assess the man’s character and what type of dealings he might have with Lord Burke.”
At the mention of Lord Burke’s name, Gilbert scowled. “The man is the devil. Burke only associates with those who can benefit his cause.”
“Or those he can manipulate or blackmail.” Mary closed her eyes as soon as Gilbert’s piercing gaze settled upon her. She had spoken too quickly and revealed too much.
“What do you know of Burke and his dealings?”
How was she to explain? Lady Frances had been exceptionally well-connected during her reign on earth but even more so in the spiritual plane and was a constant source of information on the ton and their dealings.
“My lord, they are ringing the dinner bell.” Greene’s hurried words had Mary opening her eyes.
Gilbert bent down closer. “We will finish this discussion later.”
His lips hovered above hers. Mary held her breath. The rapid staccato of her heartbeat in her ears drowned out every coherent thought.
Gilbert lifted his hand to her face and ran his thumb along the top of her cheekbone. “I prefer you without the powder. Get some rest and keep Greene close by.” He stood and left the room the same way he entered.
Mary puffed out the breath she had been holding and pulled the covers over her head.
Where had she seen that tender look in Gilbert’s eyes before?
Ugh. Her aunt’s sketches.