Winterberry Fire: A Silver Foxes of Westminster Novella (Winterberry Park Book 2)(8)

“What sort of reply?”

Tad’s puffed up chest deflated. “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“But Mr. Turnbridge is waiting for one?”

“He is.”

Mary narrowed her eyes, thoughts churning. She could use this. It was a golden opportunity, and she wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

She took a breath, focusing on Tad. “Ada is scrubbing brass in the library.”

“Thanks,” Tad said, pushing past her.

Mary caught his arm. “But before you take that to her, you should know that Mrs. Musgrave is in a tizzy about the poor job we’ve all been doing. She’s disappointed with the results of our cleaning.”

“Poor job?” Tad blinked. “I’ve been trying my hardest. Honest, I have.”

“That excuse won’t fly. You’re going to have to do more than that. She was saying there will be consequences for anyone who shirks their duty.” The idiot didn’t need to know that the consequences threat was directed at her.

Tad blanched. “What am I to do, then?”

“You’d best run up and fetch the buckets from the guest rooms, where Martha is working,” Mary told him with an earnest look. “If you do that, and maybe a few other things, Mrs. Musgrave and Mr. Noakes will see you’re a hard worker, and they won’t sack you.”

“Sack me.” Tad looked even more alarmed. “I didn’t know they were sacking people.”

“They might if you’re not careful,” Mary said.

“I’d better get going then.” Tad rushed into motion, tucking the letter for Ada into his livery jacket pocket.

Mary grinned as she watched him go. He was just the sort of dimwit to forget about the letter in favor of work, but he wouldn’t forget forever. She didn’t have any time to lose.

She grabbed her cloak, hat, and mittens from the pegs beside the door, then rushed out into the cold. The unseasonably warm weather they’d been having continued to hold, but there was a new nip in the air. It was just the sort of thing to invigorate her and help her form a plan before she reached Mr. Turnbridge.

She ran through the situation in her head. Ada was sweet on the teacher, and apparently he was sweet on her. But every man was corruptible. She needed to drive a devastating wedge between the two young lovers, and the best way to do that was to hook Mr. Turnbridge and lead him astray. She bit her lips to give them color and plumped her breasts as she neared the end of the lane. Men all wanted the same thing, and she was an expert at giving it to them. It would be easy as pie to seduce the teacher.

He was waiting, just as Tad said, by a shrub at the end of the lane, by the gate. As soon as he saw her, he straightened and stepped forward, a look of confusion on his face. “You’re not Tad,” he said.

“No, love, I’m not.” Mary slowed her steps, swaying her hips and thrusting her chest out as she closed the last of the space between them. “But he sent me with a message.”

“From Ada?”

Mary thought fast. Mr. Turnbridge wore his heart on his sleeve, and was as easy to read as a recipe card. All she had to do was note the ingredients and follow instructions. “Yes, from Ada,” she said.

Hope glistened in his eyes, and he leaned toward her, ready to hang on her every word. “Well? What did she say?”

Mary put on a sly smile, lowering her head slightly and glancing at him flirtatiously. “You’re quite a lucky man,” she said. He hadn’t given her nearly enough information to charge off into something Ada supposedly said.

“So, it’s a yes, then?” He looked ready to burst with joy.

He’d asked her something. Mary took a step closer. She needed to know what exactly he’d asked before making up an answer. She came close enough to him to handle the lapel of his coat with her mittened hand.

“She was intrigued by your question,” she said. “At first, she didn’t know what to make of it.”

“She did understand it was me asking, though, didn’t she?” The poor sop was so overcome with love that he didn’t appear to notice her touching him. That would work to her advantage.

“Of course she did,” Mary said, as much earnestness as she could manage in her eyes.

“Good.” Mr. Turnbridge let out a breath. “As I was waiting here, I was beginning to think that all that romantic language was gilding the lily too much.”

“You can never gild a lily too much,” Mary told him in a sweet voice, playing with one of the buttons of his coat. She cursed her mittens. She could have teased him so much more without them.

“It was just an invitation to a dance,” he said.

Huzzah! That was it. Mary burst into a smile of victory. That was exactly what she needed. “You really want to take little old Ada to a dance?” She pouted, glancing up at him with her most seductive look.

“Not just any dance,” he said. “The Valentine’s Day dance.”

Mary grinned, unable to hide her delight at how easy he was making this for her. At the rate they were going, she could push him over like a feather, hike up her skirts, and have him inside her in five minutes. He wouldn’t even know what happened.

“Valentine’s Day is for sweethearts, isn’t it?” She brushed her hand over his cheek.