A Season for Treason Read online

  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?

  Chapter 9

  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 lo
ok 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.