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“Thank you for the dance,” Mary interrupted before he could offer to escort her. Releasing his arm, she smoothly slipped into the crowd, now returning to throng the floor and ease the crush of bodies from the sidelines. As petite as she was, she easily lost him within a few steps.
Fortunately, she knew her direction precisely, darting between several people to the edge of the room. The hallway was dim, but she could see the door closing at the end. Remembering the layout of the house from last Season, she was fairly certain that it was the conservatory.
Gathering her courage, Mary hurried down the hall, excitement rising in her chest. Was this it? A clandestine meeting between the Earl of Devon and… a traitor? Or was the earl the traitor?
Reaching the door, she carefully, quietly opened it, breathing a sigh of relief when large green fronds met her eyes. Itwasthe conservatory. Slipping through the door, she gently closed it behind her and moved down the path—not too quickly—listening for voices ahead.
Rex
What the devil was Mary doing?
Watching her waltzing with Wintershorne, smiling up at him incessantly, had been pure torture, but Rex only had himself to blame. He had been enjoying dinner with Warwick and Captain Jones. Well, perhaps ‘enjoying’ was the wrong word when it came to Warwick, but the man was more pleasant than usual in the captain’s presence. He had been doing his best to be ingratiating. Regardless, Rex had not realized how much time had passed and had been later to the ball than intended.
At least finding her had not been too difficult, even if watching her waltzing and smiling at Wintershorne had been a chore.
Seeing her hie off down one of the many hallways had been a surprise, though. Narrowing his eyes, Rex strode purposefully after her. In the wake of everyone dispersing from the waltz, he did not draw much attention. She had timed her disappearance well—but to what end? Was she meeting someone else?
Another suitor?
Possessive jealousy, an emotion he was in no way familiar with, streaked through him, catching him off guard. Not once had he ever been possessive over a woman, much less jealous. Then again, he already knew Mary was different—made him feel differently. He was not sure he approved.
Surely, this unwelcome emotion would dissipate once they were wed, and she was legally tied to him. That had to be it. He was feeling possessive because even though he had decided on his bride, she had not decided onhim. Once she did, and their future was assured, these strange emotional reactions would pass.
Until then, he was not the type to sit idly by while his intended bride did… whatever she was doing. Rex much preferred knowledge over ignorance.
Entering the hallway, he saw her slip through a door at the end, the door slowly, silently closing behind her. Hurrying down the hall, he pulled it open only a few seconds later, but she had already disappeared down the pathway into the greenery. It was a conservatory.
Rex made a face. Such surrounds were perfect for illicit rendezvous during balls. Many couples could walk through, finding all sorts of hidden crannies and nooks for a private moment or tryst. The suspicion Mary was here for exactly that purpose intensified, pricking him uncomfortably.
Pressing his lips together, he strode down the main pathway—slowly so he would not miss a glimpse of her if she took a side path through the plants or settled on one of the many benches in the nooks. Something niggled in the back of his mind, a little voice insisting this made no sense. He could have sworn Mary was uninitiated in lover’s play, despite what she had done with him. Why would she seek out someone else? Especially when the desire between them remained unquenched?
Was he the only one who felt the connection? That did not feel right, either.
He had begun moving so quickly, he nearly stumbled over her. She had come to a halt in the middle of the pathway, just around a curve. If he had been paying more attention, perhaps he would have glimpsed her dress through the palm fronds, but he was more exercised than usual.
“Mary!” He barely managed to pull back, skirting to the side rather than plowing straight over her.
“Rex!” Wide-eyed, she stared up at him, horrified to see him… but what was she doing here? And why was she so horrified when there was no one with her?
Given a moment, he would have voiced those questions, but he did not have the opportunity before she suddenly flung herself against him, leaving him no choice but to catch her. Then her lips pressed against his in a desperate, searing kiss, her arms wrapping about his neck. Taking a step back with one foot to brace himself, one hand landed on her lower back, the other on her buttocks. Instinctively, he gripped the soft flesh, pulling her more tightly against him.
Mary
Blast! Rex had the absolute worst timing.
The Earl of Devon had just met up with a man who Mary was fairly certain was part of the Russian delegation. Although she had not been able to see his face, she had been able to hear him when he greeted Devon. The earl had been tense, but the other man relaxed when Devon demanded to know why the Russian had insisted they meet. He had said something about repaying his debt… then Rex had called out her name.
Both the earl and the Russian turned, trying to see through the foliage to see who was there. Mary had panicked. They could not know she had followed them, and she could not explain to Rex who she was following. In a blind panic, she had done the only thing she could think of, throwing herself at him.
If the men looked, they would see a couple meeting for a private kiss. If she could kiss Rex long enough, keep him quiet, the men would not hear him questioning her and would not suspect anyone had listened to their conversation. To distract him, she kissed him hard, giving herself over to the feel of his lips moving over hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth to explore, his hands gripping her body. As solutions went in such fraught circumstances, it was not a bad one, except—
“Oh, my!” A scandalized utterance rang through the air.
Feminine.English accent. Certainly not Devon or his companion.
Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no.
