Home > A Season for Treason(4)

A Season for Treason(4)
Author: Golden Angel

Her question sobered her friends. Mary felt a little prickle of guilt, but truthfully, who could blame her? What could she, Josie, and Lily do? Evie was the master swordsman and sharpshooter, the consummate actress, who could move through all levels of society without comment, and the restless thrill seeker. Still, she could listen to what Evie wanted and would try to do whatever Evie wished of her.

“Do you think it was the French or the Russians?” Lily asked slowly. She rubbed her ink-stained fingers together without appearing to realize she was doing so, as though they were already itching to pick up a quill to start writing.

“It could be either or something worse… treason.” Evie’s expression was grim, and Mary’s chest tightened as her heart began to pound. Surely she could not suspect…

“The Marquess of Hartford… you asked me to watch him because he might be a traitor?” Mary was aghast. To her relief, Evie shook her head.

“No. Well, probably not. His name has come up in several instances but always tied to that secret society of his.” The one Mary had been able to learn next to nothing about. Evie leaned forward, lowering her voice, even though there was no one nearby to listen in. “I need all of you to be alert this Season. I need to know every bit of gossip you can ferret out, no matter how inconsequential, especially if it pertains to this secret society, the Russians, the French, or the Crown. We have no idea where the next threat is coming from.”

A chill went down Mary’s spine.

“Why us?” Josie asked, frowning. The other three looked at her, surprised. “I am more than willing to do my duty to my country, but how can we possibly learn anything your uncle’s men cannot?”

“She has a point,” Lily said and shrugged. “No one wants to talk to a debutante about anything clandestine.”

“They barely want to talk to us at all,” Mary murmured. Well, that was not entirely true. There were some debutantes everyone wanted to talk to, but they were the exception, not the rule. Mostly, the ladies with the largest contingents of gentlemen around them were either great beauties or had great dowries, their skill at conversation, or lack thereof, having little effect on the proceedings. “There is a great deal we can learn by listening, though.”

“Precisely.” Evie nodded firmly. “Mary managed to hear a bit about Hartford’s secret club.”

“Not very much, mostly that it exists. Everyone knows he is connected, but no one else knows anything about it. Or those that do, do not speak of it. Sometimes, I wonder if it is real or just a figment of gossip.” Mary tapped her finger against her lower lip as she thought aloud.

“Oh, it is real,” Evie said darkly. “And someone in it is connected to the Duke’s assassination attempt.”

Real. If Evie said it so conclusively, Mary had to believe her. A little part of her sighed with regret. If that ridiculous rumor was true, perhaps the others about Hartford were as well. The knowledge should have counteracted the man’s attractiveness, but Mary had remained just as intrigued by him than ever, if not more. She had spent an entire Season watching him from afar as Hartford courted Arabella until a mishap with Mary’s cousin, Thomas, ended in a wedding, then Hartford looked around the ton for a new possible bride.

Of course, he had not looked Mary’s way. She had not expected him to. She should not have wanted him to—he was a rake, a terrible prospect for a husband, and possibly connected to treason. Admittedly, she found it hard to believe he had anything to do with the assassination attempt, but sometimes, people were not what they seem. If only he were not so very beautiful, charming, and engaging… it had been very hard not to moon over him the same way Josie mooned over Joseph Stuart—longingly and from a calculated physical distance.

The few times Mary got close to Hartford after the first time when he had looked at her so intently, he had not given her a second glance, had never introduced himself. While part of her had understood it was because proper young virgins like herself were not supposed to make the acquaintance of wicked rakes, it had still been a lowering experience—especially since she couldn’t even think of the man without her skin tingling.

“Mary?” Evie’s voice interrupted her daydreaming, and Mary blushed a hot red at being caught out. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, yes, of course, I will help again.” Mary nodded, doing her best to pretend she had been paying attention.

“Good. Your cousin’s wife, Arabella, by all accounts, is still friends with Hartford, despite her throwing him over for your cousin, Lord Hood. I want you to use that connection to learn more about him and his friendships this Season. Anything we can use to uncover this club and its members.” Evie frowned. “More about him as well. I do not think he is connected to the assassination attempt, but I want to cover all possibilities.”

Right. Of course. Wonderful.

Learn everything she could about the Marquess while trying to keep her reputation intact. Arabella would likely be happy to help, but given how impetuous she was, Mary was not sure her cousin’s wife could be trusted with secrets. Especially if she decided to spend more time with Hartford as a result. Thomas would have kittens.

But…

Treason.

Mary was not the type of person who could sit back and ignore a call to duty. She would just have to gird her loins and do her best.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

Rex

 

Another season, another search for a bride. Being a Marquess was a damned burden. Probably why he preferred to be called by the nickname his best friend Lucas had given him years ago, Rex, rather than his title. Hartford was his responsibility, but Rex was who he was.

Staring broodily out the window, Rex scowled. Perhaps he should bow to the inevitable and pick one out of the petticoat line.

Everything in him recoiled at the idea.

Although he did want the usual ton marriage—in that he did not expect to curb his excesses or his bedroom pleasures once he was wed—he did not want the usual ton bride. Being saddled for life with a dull cipher or prude sounded awful. There were many ways couples could avoid each other, even when both were active in Society, but why go to the effort when he did not have to? Putting forth the effort now for a short period of time to find a suitable spouse rather than having to do the pretty with someone he disliked for the rest of his life seemed like the wiser course.

Last year, he thought he’d had his bride locked up and well on the way to the parson’s mousetrap. Lady Arabella Windham had been perfect for his purposes—attractive, passionate, adventurous, and not at all emotionally engaged beyond a comfortable friendship. They could have had a great deal of fun together, but she had ended up with Lord Thomas Hood instead. She seemed to truly love the man, so perhaps it was for the best.

Rex would not have begrudged her lovers, once he had his heir, but Thomas Hood was a stuffed shirt, too prim and proper for the bedroom games half the ton played. If Arabella had married Rex, Hood would likely have had nothing to do with her. He was the type who would take wedding vows seriously, no matter the many who did not.

“Are you auditioning?”

The familiar voice of his boyhood friend, Lucas Beckett, the Earl of Devon, interrupted Rex’s contemplations. Frowning, he turned his head to see the earl coming up beside him, shirt untucked and half-laced, dark hair rumpled, and his customary charming smile on his face. Used to his friend’s antics, Rex was unmoved by that unassuming grin.

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