Wicked Game 02 - Something Wicked Read online

  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.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” Mary’s throat moved again. “I have you to care for me.”

  “Me? You want me to help you?” Greg felt himself become unbelievably pale and cold. “What have I done to deserve this?”

  “What have you done to deserve this? Greg, this has nothing to do with you!” she bellowed.

  Her voice rang in his head, jumbling up his thoughts and his words and leaving him feeling incredibly helpless and confused. He felt his stomach drop. He wanted to call out to her. Take her in his arms and shake her and shout:

  It has everything to do with me. Everything! And then, No, no, you must not. You will not. And then even, I love you, if that would have stopped her.

  But it was too late for any of that now. Nothing he did would change this. Mary was strong and analytical and determined and con
fident, and once she made a decision that was it. Greg knew Mary well enough to know that emotions were not going to sway her away from a decision she made with logic. So no matter what he thought and no matter what he said, he knew it would do no good to speak up right now.

  Someday—one day—he would say something, but to speak now would do absolutely nothing. Nothing besides possibly drive a wedge between them. That was the last thing he ever wanted, well, besides this that was. As much as this whole situation pained him, as much as it ripped through his very soul and tore his heart to shreds, he knew he must leave these things unsaid, because it was at that point that he realized something important.

  “I’m not going to be able to stop you, am I?”

  She shook her head. “No, Greg. You’re not.”

  He just stared at her then and took her in, all golden haired and stormy eyed and fierce as hell, as the moments dragged on in silence. But what surreal moments they were.

  It was such a strange thing, he thought, that in these moments he actually felt his admiration for her grow in leaps and bounds. It appeared so demented and insane at first, but he soon realized with wry amusement, that the way he felt also made perfect sense. Her stubborn determination, strong character, and strength of will were what had drawn him to her in the first place and were what he loved most passionately about her—and he always would care for her no matter where these traits took her and how they made him feel.

  Because what Greg admired the most about Mary was when she held true to herself.

  “I think that perhaps ‘courtesan’ is the wrong word,” she said at this moment, breaking the silence.

  “What do you mean?” He was coming down now from his high of emotions and he felt a sudden twinge of hope at the thought that perhaps she didn’t meant to trade affections after all.

  “No, now that I consider it, ‘courtesan’ is definitely not the correct word.” She shook her head and rubbed her face as she thought. “What was it Priscilla said again…”

  “Oh. Priscilla?” Greg felt his temper rising again along with his voice. “Priscilla put you up to this. I should have known…”

  “Priscilla didn’t ‘put me up to’ anything. These are my feelings and this is my idea. All mine. I’ve felt this way for a long time. It was only that I didn’t understand what I was feeling or what to do about these feelings until Priscilla—”

  “Yes, until Priscilla told you that you—that you should—” Greg let out an exasperated grunt. “Let’s all thank Priscilla for—”

  “For helping me to realize that I was not alone? That as a woman my feelings are not meaningless and that I can do something about them? Well yes. I do thank Priscilla for that.”

  “Because all I have done through these years is repress you and hold you back—”

  “Greg, no—”

  “Refused to acknowledge your thoughts and ideas, wrote off your opinions—”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “Treated you like filth, and not anything at all like my other friends. Treated you worse even…”

  “Greg, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” Mary said. She appeared genuinely hurt as she added, “You know how I feel about you…”

  Well there’s the rub, Greg thought. How do you feel? …And how do I feel?

  But instead he said, “I know.”

  “You have done more for me and for who I am than you will ever know.” She touched his arm softly. Her fingers were hot. “But this? This is something that I must do for myself. Please, I need to do this. And I also need to have you by my side.”

  Greg placed his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

  “I’m going to regret asking this, but since you cannot give me a name for what you’re proposing, I must ask: what exactly is it that you want to do?”

  She patted his hand. “All I want is the same thing that every person wants, whether they have to courage to admit it or not. I want to have the freedom to do as I please and to feel alive. I don’t want fame or riches. I’m not trying to raise my social status. You know I don’t care at all for those things. I want this to be about me, a private matter—”

  “Well, I’m sorry to tell you, Mary, but that’s just not how these things work.”

  “And why ever not? Do you take payment when you kiss a woman in private with no intention of ever marrying her? Do you seek social gain when you give into your primal desires? Does the whole of the social world know of your conquests?”

  She raised the corner of her lips at her last question. She was trying to lighten the mood, God love her, but it wasn’t helping. Not even one bit.

  “Conquests? Mary, speaking of word choices I really don’t think—” He cleared his throat. “I’d rather not talk about those things with you.”

  “Oh, come now, Greg. I’m neither blind nor stupid. And I know very well that you’re not an innocent young lad. You have desires and needs…”

  She gave him a knowing look and he turned his head to avoid her gaze, but she continued on anyway. “Well, so do I! I have desires and needs just like you. And I have just as much of a right as you to be able to fulfill those needs.”

  Greg shifted uncomfortably. “Those are games of men. You are—”

  “Don’t you dare say I’m a woman, Gregory Howard. You know how I feel about that hypocritical justification.”

  When she used his full, Christian name he knew she was serious.

  “And you know that I agree with you on this,” he responded. “But I’m just one man with a dissenting opinion in a sea of men—in a sea of a whole society of people—who I can tell you do not feel the same way that I do. Other men may not take too kindly to you edging in on their game and playing by your own rules.”

  He shook his head. His emotions had long sense tempered but that did not mean he was happy with this situation in any form. He decided to try one more way to dissuade her.

  “Aren’t you worried that this path will actually result in a loss of your freedom? What if one of these men chooses to make you his wife?”

  Mary snorted. “I am no catch Greg.”

  “Says who?” He didn’t really mean to say that, and when she raised an eyebrow he chose not to elaborate.

  “I’m the youngest daughter in a blended family. I have no dowry and I’m much too outspoken for nearly everyone I’ve ever met.”

  “Everyone besides me…” He didn’t mean to say that either.

  She twisted her mouth to hide a smile. “You do not count.”

  “Oh, I don’t? You wound me…”

  “You know what I mean. I just meant that you are—well, it’s just that, you’re just—”

  “Just Greg?” He finished her thought. Yes, he knew very well what she meant. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  “Thank you for your vote of confidence, but I stand by my judgment. I’m no catch. And besides,” she added almost as an afterthought, “the type of woman a man kisses in secret is not the type of woman he chooses to marry.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” He was beginning to see her point but there was no way he was going to let her see that.

  “I suppose that’s why you’re so happily married right now, is it?”

  “Well, I—” He couldn’t very well tell her the truth of it all—that he was just as confused as her about a variety of feelings. That would involve a little more truth than he was willing to let free right now. And now was neither the time nor the place. Not right now. Not this way.

  “This is not about me. This is about you. As you have said. So, I—” He exhaled loudly and closed his eyes as he shook his head back and forth.

  There was a part of him, albeit a very small part, that thought that this might possibly be a dream and that when he opened his eyes… but it was not a dream. The world was just as it had been moments before but at the same time, everything was different.

  He cleared his throat.

  “So,
I shall never turn my back on you. No matter what you do, no matter how much I may disagree with you—and hell, do I disagree with you on this one—I will always be there for you. Always.”

  He covered her small hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. This woman of his was infuriating, but God if he didn’t love her all the more for it.

  She smiled at him and lifted their clasped hands to her face where she pressed her lips firmly against his skin.

  “I do love you, Greg.”

  “And I love you too, my girl.”

  But before he had a chance to say anything else he saw her blue-gray eyes grow wide.

  “I’ve got it!” she shouted with such excitement that it startled him.

  “Got what?”

  “A word—or a description, rather—of what I want to do.”

  “Oh have you now? And what is that?”

  “I want to act like a man.” Mary laughed and grinned.

  “Oh, help us, God…”

  And that was the end of that.

  Chapter 2

  Summer 1817

  “Mary! For God’s sake, woman!” Greg was close to shouting now.

  “What?” Mary responded, her voice wavering, as she hopped down the hallway struggling to put on shoes that were too small. She looked up at him as she continued to fight with the shoes. “Greg, what are you shouting for?”

  “I’m not shouting. Not yet anyway… But you should have put your shoes on in the carriage!” Greg said with a frustrated breath. “Now we’re here at the party that you wanted to attend—if I might remind you!—and they’re waiting to announce our arrival and you’re still not ready…”

  He sighed heavily as he hurried back down the corridor in her direction. His voice was low and controlled. “We’re going to be late… again!”

  “And who the hell cares about that?” Her shoes were on securely now but that hadn’t hastened her pace.

  “I care,” he growled.

  She didn’t flinch.

  “They care,” he tried again.

  “And since when have I ever cared about that?” Mary waved her hand dismissively.