Mary already had desires. Namely, she desired to scream and shout at her mother. That she and her father could gallivant across the world living out their passions but she herself had to deny her own. This made no sense. This was completely unfair.
“You’ll understand when you’re older.” I’m already old enough, Mary’s thoughts bellowed.
Her mother patted her hand. “It’ll all be ok. You’ll see.”
Despite being infuriated with mother, Mary could do nothing, and so she did the only she could do. She became a lady and shoved down all her desires until they were easily dismissed.
They were easily dismissed until that kiss, that is.
Now to fall asleep and avoid this inflaming brand of thought, there was only one thing she really didn’t want to think about, and it was the only thing that she could think about. It involved a dashing hero and a broom closet.
Gregory couldn’t decide if he was grateful or disappointed that Bugsby had stolen him away to approve the floorboards.
He entered the theater and memories flooded him as he recalled the four of them acting out plays with pirates and mermaids, although Gregory insisted on being a privateer instead of a pirate. His argument was that it was more noble to be plundering and pillaging under the commissioning of the government than to personally marauder ships.
At the time, Mary wrote an array of scripts, some bordering nonsensical stories about sirens and fairies, all of which included some romantic plotline ending in a happily ever after.
How the girls persuaded Gregory and Jonathan in such silliness was beyond him. It must have had something to do with how distant the nearest other playmates were, but reflecting again, that was not the answer. It had to do with the strange combination of innocence and charm between Mary and Margaret, the complete trust they had in both Gregory and Jonathan, and the platonic camaraderie that came so naturally.
Bugsby cleared his throat. “Your grace. The workers would like to have your approval before leaving for the day.” In other words, they wanted his approval, payment, and to high tail it home for dinner.
After reviewing the workmanship, he was thoroughly convinced no human could fall through the robust work. Perhaps a herd of elephants, but not a dainty young woman. He was surprised at how relieved he felt.
With a job well done, the workers packed up, were paid, and left.
As he undressed for the evening, after dismissing his valet, he couldn’t stop thinking about Mary rolling her shoulders back and lifting her chin at him. How he would love to provoke more physical reactions from her. She was beginning to expose just how provokable she could be. He could feel his arousal growing and he was tempted to relieve himself, but he wasn’t some greenboy of fifteen.
These were not the thoughts that would further his ambitions for his estates though, which was his real focus for now.
Mr. Fairfax had come for dinner and discussed business with him. Both parties seemed willing to go ahead with their venture, although some negotiations were still underway. Now it was a matter of ensuring both parties could agree to the stipulations as well as an exit strategy, just in case.
It was always that way in business, people got rosy eyed and forgot to plan for how to end things should the need arise. Endings could be costly, hostile, or devastating if not planned properly.
Gregory had faith in his solicitors and as long as no red flags came up in the next few weeks, he was sure the deal would wrap up quite nicely.
The next morning after breakfast, at which he was told reading lines began promptly at eleven, Gregory met up with Mary and Margaret in the theater. He immediately walked into an argument.
“I will not read the lines of the mistress.” Margaret stated emphatically. Her arms were crossed against
“But you would make the better mistress.”
“What does that mean, Lady Edwards?” Margaret’s face was crimson.
Knowing the two women rarely, if ever, fought, Gregory stepped in acting as though he had just walked in and had not heard the fight.
“Good morning ladies. Which lines are we all reading? I have come prepared with a plethora of voices to choose from today.” His attempt at levity was not acknowledged.
“Mary wants me to be your mistress.” Startled, Gregory took a step back.
“Notyourmistress. The mistress of the prince in the play,” Margaret explained. “She wants me to read the lines of the opera singer. That will not do. I cannot read love lines to my brother.” She mumbled the next sentence, “I never used to with Jonathan around.”
“Quite. Well, Mary can be my mistress.” At that Mary’s face started to turn red. Gregory thought it best to ignore it and continued on, “Mary will be the opera singer. Margaret the.. The um…”
“Bookstore owner’s daughter,” Margaret supplied in Mary’s current state of shock.
“Perfect.” Gregory placed his palm on his chest, “Prince.” Then he directed his palm to Margaret, “Bookstore owner’s daughter.”
“B-b-but the bookstore owner’s daughter is also in love with the prince. You can read her lines?” Mary sputtered out.
