The Wicked Game (A Wicked Game Novel) (26 page)

Mary paused for a moment and shook her head with pursed lips. “And now that she’s gone I think more and more about the place of women in the social world—about my place—and what the future holds for me. I think about it more than I ever did before... Marriage, a family... I’m not ready for that. I don’t know if I even want that! But what other choice is there for me?”

Mary emphatically pointed at her chest before realizing that she’d given away quite a bit of herself to a stranger. But Priscilla just smiled softly and continued on, as if she knew exactly what Mary was getting at and exactly what she needed to do.

“Tell me, Mary. What did you and Angela do to have fun?” Priscilla asked.

“Well, the usual I suppose. Flirt, dance, tease...”

“All perfectly acceptable actions of a proper lady, no doubt?”

“Well, yes...” Mary cocked her head to the side with realization. “Why yes, I suppose... How absolutely awfully boring...”

“Now tell me this: what do men do to have fun?”

“A great deal more than flirt and tease, if they so desire!”

“Yes, a great deal more.” Priscilla’s eyes were full of life. “And why do you suppose they do that?”

“Well,” Mary thought about this one for a moment. “I suppose to fulfill their desires and needs. And to break free from the everyday tedium of life.”

“Now tell me one last thing,” Priscilla pressed, “do you suppose that men are the only beings to have needs and desires? Or that they are the only beings to feel boredom and long for escape?”

Mary laughed. “Well, of course not!” And now Mary lowered her voice. “If anything, I might even say that women feel these urges more than men!” Mary pondered Priscilla. “I follow your logic completely. But to what end? What are you getting at, friend?”

“Do you remember what I said about wicked things?”

“But of course! I’ve been waiting with baited ears.”

Priscilla smiled. “Well, if women have the same urges as men—or, even greater as you surmise—should they not also, like men, seek to fulfill them?”

“Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?” Mary felt anticipation brimming inside of her. “But what of your husband?” she asked Priscilla curiously.

“Oh. That. Well, suffice it to say that neither of us chose this marriage. He is not much my type, nor am I his... We have an arrangement. We both do as we like...” She trailed off. “And you can do as you like too, Mary. Why ever should you not?”

Mary began to wrap her brain around the idea. “Well, I—”

“Mary! There you are!”

Mary turned to see Greg approaching her at rapid speed, with a look on his face that was in stark contrast to his polished attire.

Greg didn’t like these parties at all but no one would ever know that from the way he dressed and presented himself. His cravat was always tied with the most elaborate knot, his waistcoat and jacket were of impeccable tailoring and cut, and he’d adopted trousers as formal wear nearly the moment that fashion became acceptable. At one time Mary had laughed at his efforts to impress people he cared nothing for and he’d just smiled and candidly told her that blending in was the most passive form of rebellion.

“No one can care if they don’t even notice you,” he’d said. And most of the time—Mary had come to realize—he was absolutely correct.

So despite the fact that his true person was more relaxed and much less fastidious, Greg always took great care in his society appearance. The only contempt he ever let show was the occasional tightness of his angled jaw and the perpetual disarray of his hair, but Mary was certain she was the only person to have ever noticed that.

He ran his hand through his chestnut hair now setting it into more disorder than normal before he turned his steely eyes back to her.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said.

“Well, you obviously weren’t looking very hard...”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve been right here in the same spot. All night. Alone.”

“Alone are you? Is that what you think of our esteemed hosts?” Greg now directed his speech at Lady Thurston as he noticed who Mary was spending her time with. “Forgive us, Lady Thurston. It is unfortunate, but sometimes innocent bystanders fall victim to our—our—” Greg circled his hand in the air as he fished for the words.

“Rows?”

“Yes, thank you,” he said to Mary. And then to Lady Thurston, “Rows. Sometimes innocent bystanders get drawn in. Forgive us.”

Mary saw a glint in Lady Thurston’s eyes. “Call me Priscilla, and by all means... continue.”

“And what if I don’t want to continue?” Mary crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Greg.

“Oh, but I know that you do...” Greg said as he narrowed his eyes.

“Do you now?” Mary answered with a smirk.

Greg twisted his mouth. “Of course. I know what you like.”

Priscilla let out a little squeak. Both Mary and Greg raised a brow as they looked at her.

“What do you want, Greg? I was only just getting to know my new friend and—”

“Well, I thought perhaps to have a few enjoyable moments tonight—forgive me again, Lady Thurston... Priscilla—”

Priscilla nodded her head dismissively at his apology and he continued. “I hadn’t thought anything could be worse than listening to Lord Sheffield chatter on about the breeding practices of livestock, but it appears I was wrong.” He gave Mary a reproachful look.

“You don’t mean that,” Mary laughed.

“Oh, don’t I?”

“No,” Mary chuckled. “No, of course you don’t”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I know you too.” Mary said with a slight sway of her body.

“Infuriating woman,” Greg mumbled with a shake of the head.

Mary smiled. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“No. I would not,” he conceded as he returned her smile.

And with that Greg sighed heavily and kissed Mary softly on the top of her head. “As ever my dear, your presence is a breath of fresh air but I told Lord Sheffield I was only looking for a drink. I suppose it’s time to learn more about breeding practices... Perhaps this time I will just stop talking and start nodding.”

Greg and Mary shared the secret smile of a mutual memory before he nodded to both women and then left them alone again.

“And who was that?” Priscilla inquired with a song in her voice.

“That’s Greg,” Mary answered flippantly.

“Well, I caught that...”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I didn’t!” Priscilla said matter-of-factly.

“Yes you did,” Mary shot back with a confused lift of her brow as Priscilla just continued to stare at her wordlessly. “Then what
did
you ask?”

“
Who is he?
” Priscilla asked with a twinkle in her eyes as she punctuated each word.

Mary shrugged and slapped her hands against her side. “That’s
exactly
what you just asked! And I told you... that’s Greg.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Priscilla opened her eyes wider as if to press Mary on.

“And he’s my oldest and dearest friend. We’ve been close for years...”

“And?” Priscilla pressed again.

“And nothing! What are you getting at, Priscilla?” Mary was confused and frustrated now.

Priscilla tilted her head to the side, crossed her arms, and rolled her eyes.

“And—and he’s Greg! He’s my dearest friend and confidant and he’s just...” Mary shrugged with frustration but she also felt herself smiling. “He’s... just Greg.”

Priscilla looked satisfied though Mary couldn’t imagine why.

Her new friend leaned slightly back on her heels, pivoting as she looked between Mary and then Greg as he walked away, and then Mary again. The edges of Priscilla’s lips curled up as if she had seen something wicked that no one else could see. She shook her head and grinned at Mary.

“My dear Mary, I thought you said you were lonely...”

***

A few days later...

“I have made a decision, Greg.” Mary stood before him, her face animated and her voice peaked with determination.

“Oh have you now?”

Greg raised his eyebrow skeptically as he looked up from his book and rubbed the space between his eyes. He’d hoped to pass the morning quietly reading in his study that overlooked the garden behind his London residence, but when Mary was involved he knew he should never make assumptions.

“What a momentous event...” he added sarcastically.

“And what do you mean by that?” Mary scoffed loudly and playfully shoved him. “You don’t give me any credit! I’m very analytical…”

“Yes, my girl, I know that. That’s precisely what I’m talking about. I’ve never met anyone who analyzes a decision quite like you do. Your thoroughness at considering all sides of an argument before drawing judgment is truly unparalleled. So any decision you make is sure to be a momentous one indeed.”

“Greg, you think too much. I only meant that—”

“Oh? I’m thinking too much now? And I thought it was you who had been thinking. Did you not just say—”

Mary crossed her arms defiantly but she couldn’t hide a smile. He loved that smile.

“I
have
been thinking,” she said. “Now do you want to hear me out or not?”

Greg sighed and set down his book, as a sense of foreboding began to creep over him. “Am I going to regret this?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Nor did you answer mine!”

“Well,” she clasped her hands in front of her and then pulled them apart, swinging them back and forth at her sides as she diverted both her body and her gaze from him. He could tell that she was hiding something. “I suppose that—” Then she cut herself off as she abruptly turned back to face him. “What do you mean by asking if this is something that you will regret?”

“This decision that you have made—”

“Yes. What about it?” She prompted.

He slapped his hands on the top of his thighs and shook his head. “Well, I’ll tell you if you let me get a sentence out.”

“If I let you... Oh, please Greg...”

“No, Mary, you please.”

“Please what?”

“Please shut up for one...”

“Gregory Howard!” She shot back.

“Mary Cartwright!” He mocked.

Even though she was trying to act as if she was angry he could see that she was stifling laughter. Her attempts were failing miserably.

“Oh, dear Lord...” she muttered.

“God is part of this now?”

“Oh, God, no!” She stumbled over her speech making it obvious that she had misspoken. “Well that didn’t—well, I—” She inhaled deeply and then with an exhale, she swept her hands gracefully in front of her to bring a break to the current track of conversation. “Now, where were we? Before you so kindly suggested that I—” she choked on a laugh, “—shut up?”

“I believe I was asking if your decision—which I remind you, remains unspoken—might cause me to have regrets.”

“Yes, that was it. So, do you care to explain to me?”

“Yes. Very well. This decision that you’ve made—” He stopped and raised an eyebrow, giving her a chance to speak. When she did not say a word he nodded and continued. “Thank you. Now, this decision that you’ve made: without even knowing what it is, I feel a portending presence and so I fear that I may resent letting you do whatever it may be.”

Mary pressed her lips into a thin, straight line. “Letting me—did you say
letting me?
”

“Excuse me.” He straightened his back, balled his fist in front of his mouth, and cleared his throat. “
Accepting
your decision. I may resent
accepting
your decision instead of protesting it.”

She relaxed her face and then with a cynical half smile, nodded in his direction.

“That’s enough,” Greg said. “We’ve drawn this on long enough and I can no longer stand the anticipation. I have a feeling I’m going to regret this but let’s hear it. What have you decided?”

Mary didn’t even skip a beat. “I’ve decided that I’m going to be a courtesan.”

“Are you bloody insane?” Greg jumped to his feet knocking over the reading table next to him and sending it crashing across the floor. He hadn’t skipped a beat either.

“No I’m not insane! And I resent the implication!” she shot back, again without a second thought.

“You resent—Dear God...” Greg mechanically ran his hands through his hair, as if the feel of something familiar would set the world straight again.

“I told you that God had no part in this...” she mumbled with a chuckle.

“What about my present demeanor gives you any bloody impression that I’m in the bloody mood for laughing?” Greg crossed the room in two long strides and poured himself a tall glass of something strong.

“Heavens, Greg, what
is
the matter with you? I thought you would be happy I—”

“
Happy?
” his voice croaked. He downed the glass and poured another.

“Yes. Happy.”

“And why would I be happy? Happy that you have chosen to—that you want to—” He waved his hands around manically, eyes wide, alcohol sloshing from the glass, as he racked his brain for the words. “Do you have any idea what happens to women who are—women who—your reputation—you are a lady—” He downed what was left of the drink in his glass. And then again, he poured another one.

“And that’s exactly why I need to do this.”

“Because you’re a lady?” Greg reached out for her forehead. “Are you ill? Do you have a fever?”

She swatted him away. “No, I do not have a fever! Truthfully, I feel better now than I have in years. Maybe better than I have ever felt in my life...”

“Says the lady who wants to risk her reputation...” Greg’s head was spinning now and he wasn’t sure if it was the drink or the conversation. It didn’t matter. He took another gulp from his glass.

“Do you have any idea what happens to women who are ladies? To women who just...
are?
To women who never do? I will not sit by as I fade into the background...” Mary swallowed hard, her throat moving up and down with the strain of her words. “And besides, those women, the ones who lose themselves and their reputation... They had no one to care for them. I take this path by choice and with purpose... And I am not alone.”