A Season for Treason Read online

  Or perhaps she wanted more of what had come afterward…

  Regardless, it was hardly proper discussion for the dance floor and did nothing to help her inner turmoil. She almost wished she had said something to her friends about the consequences, but she had been too embarrassed—too confused—and did not know how they would react if they knew.

  Unfortunately, she could think of no one she could confide in.

  While she had certain suspicions about Thomas and Arabella’s marriage, Arabella did not know about Mary’s mission. She clearly also approved of Rex courting Mary and had proven to be uncaring of scandal. While Mary thought it likely the other woman could be trusted, she would literally be staking her entire future on that hope—and she would have to find some way to explain her own actions that did not reveal Evie’s plot to find a traitor.

  There was no one person who knew everything other than herself, and she had to keep it that way, at least for now.

  Rex’s fingers squeezed hers.

  “Do you understand, Miss Wilson?”

  “Yes.” She bit off the word. “I told you to call me Mary.”

  “So I shall, Mary.” Blue eyes twinkled. His voice lowered to a whisper that crawled up the back of her spine. “Unless you are being naughty, then it shall be back to Miss Wilson.”

  Her blush felt as though it traveled from the top of her head all the way down to her toes, pooling warmth in her middle along the way. The man was utterly lethal and did not even seem to realize how intense his effect was. Or perhaps he did, and long years as a rake made her reaction commonplace. Remembering his reputation and knowing how real the foundation for his reputation was, did nothing to cool her ardor… which proved how very potent he was.

  His body pressed against hers, his leg impudently moving between hers as they rotated with particular fervor. Tawny gold eyes gleamed, the wicked smile on his face promising all sorts of delights. Mary stared up at him, entranced. So entranced, she nearly stumbled when the music came to a halt. He caught her, neatly keeping her from tripping over the hem of her skirts.

  “Would you like me to return you to your friends?” he asked.

  “I doubt they are still there.” Mary sighed. She tried to look about but was hampered by her short stature. Rex had no such impediment, straightening and looking across the crowd before nodding.

  “They are not. Where would you like to go?”

  “My Aunt should be on the other side of the staircase by the corner.” Without knowing where Josie and Lily were, finding them in this crush would be a near-impossible task. Since they had found her before, they would likely return there, expecting her to as well.

  “Perfect.” Rex smiled down at her again.

  Making her way across the ballroom on his arm, Mary could not help but notice the difference from when she had arrived. People watched them with speculation, but no one dared approach, not even the most curious. They were waiting to see what he and Mary would do rather than coming forward to hound them for answers.

  Truthfully, it was much nicer.

  “How long are you staying this evening?” she asked, looking up at him. Puzzled, he glanced down at her. “The other guests have been…” She searched for an appropriate description.

  “Importuning?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, then.” Rex chuckled, putting his hand over hers on his arm. Warmth seemed to seep through the fabric between them. “If you would like me to stay, all you need to do is say the word.”

  Feeling strangely vulnerable, Mary nodded, nonetheless. His mere presence was already acting as a shield against the questions if not the attention. Given the circumstances, she would take what she could get.

  “Please.” The word came out as a soft, sincere plea.

  “Then, I shall stay.”

  Rex

  Feeling oddly pleased and rather protective, Rex returned Mary to her aunt’s general vicinity. Viscountess Hood was sitting with the other chaperones, talking animatedly, but bestowed an approving glance on him before returning to her gossip. Rather than moving away, he took up a position by Mary’s side as several other gentlemen grouped around her, eyeing him with speculation. He returned their gazes with faint scorn. Lord Shrove was no competition, the young puppy far too young and green to interest a woman like Mary, but Sinclair and Wintershorne were more worrisome.

  Both were looking for a wife, neither had his reputation nor were fortune hunters. While neither could match his title, as an earl and viscount respectively, he did not think Mary cared much about how lofty a man’s title was.

  Staying by her side this evening and dancing attendance on her—not his original plan—suddenly held new appeal.

  All three men eyed each other warily when the ravishing Miss Pennyworth appeared between Sinclair and Wintershorne before anyone could open a conversational gambit. The two men blinked in surprise when the beauty appeared between them.

  “Hello there,” she said, smiling brightly before reaching behind herself to pull Miss Davis forward into their circle, the other woman only appearing a little reluctant. The men obligingly shuffled aside for the two women. “Such a crush here tonight! Lady Farthingale must be very pleased.”

  “The ball is certainly a success,” Sinclair acknowledged, running a speculative eye over Miss Pennyworth, trying to assess whether she might be a better target for his intentions than Miss Wilson. Rex did not know whether to subtly encourage Sinclair to redirect his course to Miss Pennyworth or to be insulted on Mary’s behalf that the man was so easily distracted.

  The social patter flowed, most of which Rex had no interest in. He shifted against Mary. Their backs were to the wall with no one behind them, and without looking at her, he ran his knuckle down the center of her spine, enjoying her short, sharp intake of breath. He might not be able to pull her away from the watchful eyes of the ton without risking her reputation, but he could still torment her to some degree. His ability to do so was also one sound advantage he had over the other gentlemen, and he was determined to make the most of it.

  While his illicit touch, over her gown no less, was the most innocent contact he had ever used to seduce a woman, Rex found the challenge far more erotic and provocative than any before. Part was the thrill, the stakes so much higher if anyone noticed, but another part was Miss Mary Wilson herself. She was a challenge and a mystery rolled into one.

  Miss Pennyworth and Miss Davis were fairly easy to categorize from listening to their conversation—the former with her fervor for all things horses and the latter with her zeal for all things bookish—but not Mary. Like him, she seemed to have a general knowledge of everything but no excessive interest in any one thing as though she was still searching for her passion.

  They had that in common as well.

  Rex ran his knuckle down her spine again, right down to the small of her back, and she shivered.

  Bringing her fan up as though she was hot, she used it to cover her mouth and whisper to him.

  “Would you stop that?” she hissed. Across from her, Miss Davis eyed them questioningly, and Mary smiled reassuringly at her friend. She was a good actress, Rex noted, although unable to control her blushes.

  Not having a fan to cover his mouth, Rex was unable to answer her verbally. He ran the pad of his finger down her spine instead, tracing the same path his knuckle had taken.

  She shifted next to him, and a moment later, Rex jumped at the sharp pinch to his buttocks. The little minx! Her skirts had hidden her movement, but not his. Everyone turned to look at him.

  “Ah, muscle cramp,” he lied, already thinking about his retribution.

  He meant to marry the wench. Would it really matter if he dragged her off to a suitably private spot and spanked her?

  Unfortunately, he was too late.

  “Excuse me, my aunt is summoning me,” Mary said sweetly. “I think she means to go.”

  Gritting his teeth while Mary said goodbye to the rest of their circle, Rex proffered his ar
m to her.

  “You are in so much trouble,” he murmured, leaning toward her as he escorted her to her aunt, who was waiting just past Sinclair. Mary smiled breezily up at him, eyes wide and innocent.

  “I am sure I do not know what you speak of.”

  If he did not know better, he would have believed her. Admiration surged. Even Arabella, with all her wild ways and disdain for social propriety, had not challenged him the way Mary did… and he was sure not even her family knew of Mary’s audaciousness.

  Now, he just had to get her to agree to marry him and introduce her to the rest of the Society and its activities, although the latter no longer held the appeal it once had. Rex frowned, watching his intended leave the ballroom with her aunt. It had never occurred to him once he found a woman to marry, he might not want her partaking in the Society activities. It had definitely never occurred to him the idea of partaking in those activities with women other than her would no longer appeal.

  Was this what marriage did to a man?

  No, that could not be it. He had not felt this way when he had intended to marry Arabella. In fact, he had handily juggled both his courtship of her and his nights with the Society. It was only Mary who made him feel this way.

  Chapter 11

  Mary

  After church on Sunday, Mary made her way to Hyde Park with her maid in tow, ostensibly to watch over her since she could not go ‘wandering around London alone,’ according to Thomas. He had come with her last week and gone riding after passing her off to her friends, but this week, Arabella was demanding more of his attention. Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Henry were spending the afternoon together in the library, and Walter was making himself scarce as usual.

  At some point, Mary was going to have to figure out how to talk to Walter about his role in Rex’s Society, but her cousin would have to actually be present for that to happen.

  Dressed in a sensible blue pelisse over her favorite green walking gown, hair tucked up under a wide-brimmed, blue-and-white bonnet, Mary was relieved to feel as though she had faded back into obscurity. It was too early in the day for the park to be very crowded, but no one gave her a second glance, which she found far more comfortable than all the stares and whispers from the night before.

  Making her way down to the Serpentine, she was relieved to see Evie and Lily already waiting for her under the willow overhanging the bank. While the spot did not offer complete privacy, it was as good as they could get under the circumstances.

  “Wait here for me,” Mary told the maid accompanying her, pointing to a bench within viewing distance of the willow. “I wish to speak to my friends alone.”

  “Yes, miss.” The maid looked bored but also relieved, taking to her seat with alacrity, already looking about the park to watch the other visitors. Satisfied, Mary continued to her friends.

  “Good morning.” Mary pushed the wispy branches out of her way, moving to the blanket where Evie and Lily were sitting. Like her, Lily and Evie were both dressed fashionably but functionally in outfits not meant to draw attention.

  “Is it?” Evie raised an eyebrow at her questioningly. “I heard you were the belle of the ball last night. I must admit, becoming the Marquess of Hartford’s intended was not how I expected you to go about your task. Lily makes it sound as though you did not have much choice, though.”

  “No, I did not.” Arranging her skirts and legs to a comfortable position, Mary made a face. “Following him at the Richmond ball and sneaking around his house during his masquerade piqued his attention.”

  “I do not understand how he even noticed you.” Evie grimaced as soon as she said the words, shooting Mary an apologetic look. “I do not mean… it is just that you are so very good at fading into the background and overhearing things when you want to.” Her eyes narrowed, a thought occurring to her. “Did you not want to with him?”

  “I tried… but…” Mary pressed her lips together, one hand creeping up to touch the bonnet her hair was piled beneath. “He notices me. He even knew my hair color had changed from last Season.”

  “Who noticed you?” Josie was out of breath as she hurried beneath the branches before flopping down next to Mary. Her cherry-red pelisse was eye catching, as was the matching hat perched atop her curls. She stood out among them like a bright rose stuck into a bouquet of daisies. Discretion was not one of her strong suits. “Why are we talking about your hair again?”

  Mary rolled her eyes, Lily laughed, but Evie just shook her head, even though she could not stop a small smile from spreading on her lips, despite Josie’s tardiness. She tended to have that effect—charming people even when they wanted to be annoyed with her.

  “Hartford noticed Mary’s hair color is different this Season,” Lily informed her before turning back to Mary. “You did not tell us that before.”

  Shrugging, Mary truly did not have an answer for them. There were several things between herself and Rex she had been reluctant to disclose, but the others—like the spanking and the subsequent pleasure—made more sense to conceal. She did not know how her friends would react, and it was private. Why she kept his comment about her hair to herself… that was not as easy to explain.

  “So, he noticed you last Season and remembered your hair,” Evie said, tapping her finger thoughtfully against her lower lip, the way she did when she was puzzling out something. “He is either extremely observant or…”

  “Or he was already interested in you.” Josie grinned wickedly.

  Blinking in surprise, Mary only took a moment to think about it before shaking her head.

  “The one time I was close enough for him to notice me last Season, he was already courting Arabella.”

  “That does not mean he did not notice you,” Lily pointed out thoughtfully. “He is a rake.”

  It was all Mary could do not to make a face. She did not like the idea of Rex being so disloyal, but Lily was right, and she would do well to remember that.

  “Reformed rakes are supposed to make the best husbands,” Josie argued. “Perhaps he was not ready to reform last Season.”

  “And he is this Season?” Lily’s skepticism echoed Mary’s, though hers remained unspoken.

  “Not the point,” Evie said, slashing her hand through the air to cut off their bickering. She gave Mary another apologetic look. “Not that your eventual choice of husband is not important, but…”

  “No, no, please.” Mary nodded. “We should talk about how this changes things.”

  “Are we even sure this plot is still afoot?” Josie asked almost plaintively. “We have heard nothing, seen nothing, to indicate it might be.”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Evie’s expression darkened. “One of my uncle’s men was injured this past week when someone broke into the Duke of York’s home. They were unable to apprehend him, and he escaped.”

  All three of her friends sucked in gasps for breath.

  “They have not given up, then.” Josie had paled, her expression more somber. “Yet we barely know anything more than we did before. Unless… has your uncle uncovered anything?”

  “No.”

  The four of them sat in unhappy silence for a long moment. Finally, Lily stirred, speaking quietly as usual.

  “The Russian delegation seems pleased with the trade agreements so far. One of my contacts says they look to be spending the remainder of the Season entertaining themselves. There was a fight between the French envoy and the Russian envoy earlier this week, though no one seems to know exactly what it was about. The French envoy, the Comte of Dreux, was overheard cursing after one of his meetings with the crown.”

  “If the French are unhappy, perhaps that is why another attempt was made on the Duke this week,” Mary mused.

  “Unlike the Russians, they are making an effort to mingle with Society.” Josie leaned back on her elbows. “They are really rather friendly.”

  “And all already married,” Lily said dryly. “I do not think a willingness to flirt is any indication of innocence.”
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br />   “I am only pointing out, they are making an effort.”

  “Which might be a deliberate deception on their part.”

  “Is there any indication they are working with an English counterpart?” That was what Mary really wanted to know. She did not like to think Rex, or any of his friends, might be tied to the assassination attempts. The activities of the Society could put them all in danger with the law as it was.

  “That is what I want us to focus on,” Evie said grimly. “My uncle and his men have connections with the envoys we do not.” She looked at Lily. “Although, if you could keep up with your contacts, that would be appreciated.” Lily nodded. “Josie, my understanding is you are in a good position to gather gossip, especially for anyone connected to the envoys.”

  “The French are very sociable, but I will do my best,” Josie said with a sigh. “There will be a very large amount of gossip from them. At least the Russians’ introversion should make things easier on that count. They hardly talk to anyone outside of their own group, which makes anyone they do talk to stand out.”

  “Just do your best. Lily, anything more you can find out about negotiations and the argument between the French and the Russians. I am sure my Uncle is working on that as well, but I am just as sure he will not share that knowledge.” Evie’s expression was full of frustration over her uncle’s protectiveness, even though his sentiments were demonstrably legitimate. “Mary, keep looking into Hartford. In particular, focus on his friend, the Earl of Devon. He was recently seen gambling with the Russian envoy in a particularly notorious gaming hell.”

  “How do you know that?” Josie asked curiously. They often took for granted Evie would know things they did not—could not—but Josie usually wanted to know how Evie knew. Sometimes, Evie was forthcoming, but today did not appear to be one of those days.

  “Never you mind,” Evie said a bit too severely, getting to her feet. She glanced at the sky. “I have to go. I only had a bit of time off this morning.”