Slowly sliding her hand under her pillow, Mary reached for her dagger. She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to sleep with it tonight, but she felt it necessary. She was glad now that she had. A shadow slipped across the room where no shadow should be. She wrapped her fingers around the cold steel.
The mattress sank beneath the intruder’s weight. It was no shadow but a man. Her heart wailed against her ribs, but she swung the blade toward him in a confident arc.
The man caught her, twisting her wrist painfully. She dropped her weapon with a curse, searching for another escape, another means of attack.
“Lady Mary, it is I. Hadfield.”
“Lord Hadfield?” Mary rubbed her wrist. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You were to remain with Comte Boucher until we found you.”
Still foggy from sleep, Mary blinked and then stared at the man before her.
“Waterford is seeing to the arrangements for our travel tomorrow. We are to leave at first light.”
More likely, Gilbert was still preoccupied with the comtesse. Pushing aside the absurd disappointment that it was Hadfield who was in her rooms instead of Gilbert, Mary said, “I entertained the comte as long as I could. I played countless rounds of cards until I emptied the man’s pockets. After I trounced him at billiards, he declared he was off to seek other entertainment—the kind I was not willing to provide.”
“I’m sorry for not arriving sooner, but we—”
“No need to apologize. Did you obtain the details you were searching for?”
Lord Hadfield nodded, but his gaze remained lowered as he said, “We did.”
“I know you mentioned you were dubious about the comte’s motivations, but after my discussions with him tonight, I believe he is an ally, not a foe.”
He looked at her sharply. “What led you to this belief?”
Lord Hadfield’s intense stare settled deep into her bones and disconcerted her. What it didn’t do was set her heart aflutter.
Shaking her head, she said, “Comte Boucher wants André to locate Lord Burke’s son. He wants to determine if the rumors about Lord Wharton are true. His informants alluded that Wharton is not at all what the gossips say and is in hiding, waiting, plotting against his own papa.”
“The evidence I found tonight would support your claim that Boucher is privy to such sources and that he is indeed an ally rather than the enemy.”
“Would you have believed me if you hadn’t found proof of Boucher’s ties?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
She stared at Hadfield.
Nothing.
No tingles, no rapid pulse, no anticipation. What was wrong with her? Hadfield was a jewel among gentlemen—titled, with healthy coffers. But she remained cool and steady around him. “Waterford would have asked me questions or required me to explain myself further.”
“I am not Waterford. But I, like him, will protect you and your honor.”
“Lord Hadfield, I do appreciate the offer. However, I’ve learned over the past week that I am capable of many things and possess a multitude of talents I never knew prior.”
“You are an amazing woman. It would be an honor if—”
She raised a hand, preventing him from continuing. “Lord Hadfield, you are a wise man, and it is very generous of you—” Mary stared into his eyes. Remorse. She didn’t need Lady Frances’s assistance in this instance to deduce that the man’s heart belonged to another. Clearing her throat, which was constricted with empathy for the man before her, Mary continued to say, “As I informed Gilbert, I will only marry a man whose belief in me is unwavering.”
“Unwavering, you say.” Lord Hadfield’s lips pressed together in a slight grimace. “Did you share this requirement with Waterford?”
She had lain in bed for hours waiting for Gilbert to find her so she could ask him directly if it had been him in the hall. But after her emotions ceased to volley about, she had rationally contemplated what she had spied in the hall and had concluded that Gilbert would never betray her.
Mary considered Lord Hadfield’s posture and tone and was overcome with doubt. “Yes. Gilbert knows it is my wish to marry a man who is willing to place his trust in me. Why do you ask?”
Lord Hadfield inhaled deeply and released his breath ever so slowly, postponing his answer. “While we were searching for the documents, we came across Valois. He was being— entertained by a woman. From Waterford’s vantage point, the lady appeared to be—” Hadfield’s brow creased as he took another deep breath before continuing. “Well, one could have assumed it was you in the room. I know it was not you but the comtesse. Valois agreed, like you, to entertain our host until we obtained what we needed.”
Relief flowed through her that it was her cousin whom the comtesse had managed to corner and not Gilbert. She had rationalized earlier that she must have been mistaken.
“The dress. The hair. One might have confused you with the comtesse at first glance.” Lord Hadfield reached out to take her sore wrist and rubbed it with the pad of his thumb. It was a soothing gesture, and again she was disappointed it wasn’t Gilbert.
“Were you confused?”
The man stiffened as if she had slapped him. “Of course not!”
“But what you are trying to tell me is—” Mary paused. Swallowing hard and fists curling into balls, Mary pulled her hand away. “Gilbert thought it was I and not the comtesse who was entertaining my cousin, didn’t he? Gilbert doesn’t trust me, and never will.”
Mary wrapped her arms in front of her stomach.
Hadn’t she herself believed that Gilbert had let the witch have her way with him in the hallway?
It had been her cousin, not Gilbert carrying out the duty of entertaining the comtesse. She was a hypocrite. If she wanted Gilbert’s ultimate trust, she would have to trust him equally. Her mama had placed her faith in her papa over and over only to be disappointed time and time again.
“I’m sorry.” Lord Hadfield’s palm lay open in invitation.
Mary shook her head. “There is no need to apologize.”
Standing, Lord Hadfield tugged on his coat sleeves. “Oh, but there is. It was not my intention to upset you. I clearly failed. I—. I thought you should know in case Waterford behaves oddly tomorrow.”
She lay back, pulling the covers up to her chin. “I expect Waterford will do what he does best. Focus on executing the assignment and ignore me. He has for years.”
Hands clasped in front of him, Lord Hadfield smiled and revealed a charming dimple. “You are an extremely clever woman, and I’m certain I’m not telling you anything you are not already aware of. But once we arrive at Valois’s estate, you will have to make a choice as to which of us will have the honor to marry you.”
All she could manage was a weak smile.
Hadfield turned to leave.
The devil got the better of her as she spoke to his back. “Convention would dictate that to be the rational course of action. However, I’ve never been one to adhere to society’s rules, and I’m not about to begin now.”
Two quick strides and he was back on the bed sitting next to her. “Lady Mary, I must insist. If not Waterford, please consider my offer. I am not a bad sort once you get to know me better.”
Sadness filled his eyes, contrary to his words.
“You are the best sort of gentleman, and I’m truly honored by your offer. But I have a feeling you have already lost your heart to another, but are too afraid to approach her.”
Lord Hadfield tilted his head to the side and said, “Waterford warned me of your intuition. But I do not fear it like he does. It is what makes you unique, a quality to be treasured.”
She sat up, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a sisterly hug. There were no shooting stars. No tingling in the most intimate of places—no zing. Her pulse remained steady. She pulled back and shoved him off the bed. “Thank you. I shall think upon it.”
It was a lie, but she needed him to leave, for the tears were welling behind her eyes and threatening to appear. If she did not get rid of him, he would see exactly how much Gilbert’s lack of faith in her affected her.
Just as he had entered her room without a sound, he left the same way. Mary’s gaze shifted to the adjoining chamber. Greene’s shoulders were slumped, and she shook her head as she turned away.
Alone.
Mary buried her face in the pillow and let the feathers absorb her sobs.