by Liana Lefey
She breathed again.
A sharp crack rent the air, and she looked over at Amelia. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the carved ivory handle of her favorite fan. She had just broken it. Her stare was absolutely glacial.
Victoria ignored the warning. “Oh, you are my chivalrous knight!” she trilled, hauling on Withington’s arm and all but dragging him away. They found their places on the dance floor and waited for the music to begin. She could tell he was on the verge of fleeing.
At last, the allemande drew them close enough to converse. “I can’t explain right now,” she hissed, pausing a beat longer than required, “but if we can find somewhere private, I promise to tell you everything!”
He nodded.
Her sister’s stony face flashed by at every turn, and Victoria knew there would be hell to pay later tonight. Just when she was about to give up all hope of escape, she spied the Earl of Scarbrough approaching Amelia from behind.
Her spirits lifted. The new earl was a friend of Papa’s, and quite keen on Amelia. Unfortunately her sister had pronounced him unsuitable, as his brother, the previous earl, had committed suicide earlier that year. According to her, she wanted “no part of any family with a history of such acute mental disturbance.”
It was just another excuse to avoid marrying.
When Amelia turned to answer him, Victoria grabbed Withington’s hand and yanked him out of the line. “Hurry! We have five minutes at most before she manages to extricate herself.” She did not stop at the edge of the dance floor. Nor did she stop at the doors. Instead, she continued down the steps to the gardens and broke into a run, tugging him along. “Come on!”
“But—”
“There isn’t time!” There it was just ahead: the entrance to the labyrinth.
He saw it, too, and began to slow. “My lady, I don’t think this is—”
“I shall explain everything, only come along!” Pulling with all her might, she dragged him in.
TURNING CORNER AFTER corner, she led them deeper into the maze. Only when she was satisfied they were beyond the view of the house did she finally halt.
Releasing him, she leaned against a stone planter to catch her breath, glad now that her corset was not as tight as she’d originally wanted. She smiled at the irony and saw Withington edge away from her, a wary look in his eyes.
“Oh, stop it. I won’t eat you,” she told him with a laugh as she whisked back an errant curl. “I simply wished to speak with you where we would not be disturbed.”
He stared at her in plain disbelief. “Yes, well. This is certainly not the place I would have chosen!” He raked a hand through his disheveled hair. “Cavendish entrusted me with your care in his absence, and running about in the gardens in the dark gives every appearance of my violating that trust in the worst possible manner!”
“I understand and, truly, I am so very sorry to cause you distress,” she apologized, hoping to heaven she hadn’t just ruined everything. “I would not put you in such a position were it not absolutely necessary—I need your help.”
He blinked in surprise. “My help? What sort of help requires this?”
She started to come toward him, but stopped when he moved back. “It’s my sister, Amelia,” she blurted. “She cannot stand the idea of me—” No, that won’t work. A softer approach was needed here. “She is so overly protective of me, you see. If she discovers Lord Cavendish’s interest in me, she will try to prevent him from seeing me. She will drive him away!”
Withington sagged against the bushes. “Oh, thank the Lord! I thought you were trying to cause Cavendish to become jealous.” He peered at her suspiciously. “You seem awfully confident in his interest.”
She cast her gaze downward as though embarrassed. “I know we only just met tonight, but already I know that I—I wish to know him better. And I am fairly certain that he feels likewise, but Amelia will never allow it. I wouldn’t ask you to inconvenience yourself on my behalf, but just now, it became quite clear that she has mistaken your attentiveness for, well…” She gave him her best “pretty please” face. “If you could distract her for me, just for a little while.”
Comprehension dawned in his eyes. “I see.” He crossed his arms. “Not to be impolite, my lady, but I must question your motives. I have known Cavendish all my life and practically consider him a brother. How am I to know your liking for him is genuine? Your little act back there with your father was impressive, to say the least.”
Hoist by my own bloody petard, thought Victoria. She needed his help and had to gain his trust, and that required honesty on her part—up to a point. She did want Cavendish to become enamored of her, after all. “Amelia and I do not always see eye to eye,” she confessed. “In fact, most of the time, we are at odds. I apologize for my earlier behavior. She tends to bring out the worst in me.”
“Don’t all sisters?” he said with a grin. “Mine certainly bring out the very devil in me. I’m cursed with four of them. Sisters, not devils. Though I don’t see much difference, in truth.”
Relieved, she warmed to her task. “She guards me like a dragon in a fairy tale!” she groused. “She dragged me over to our father just now to tattle on me for removing my fichu. I only wanted to look like something other than a nun, for once.”
“My older sister did the same thing to our younger sisters,” he reasoned, laughing a little. “She is simply looking out for your good name and protecting you—from the likes of dastardly me, apparently.”
“You don’t understand,” she replied, desperate. “Amelia has deliberately driven away every gentleman who has ever shown interest in me. I like Lord Cavendish a great deal, and I cannot bear the thought of her doing so to him.”
Her own vehemence surprised her. She did like him. As a potential brother-in-law, she told herself sternly. She bowed her head, hoping she looked pitiful enough to elicit his sympathy. “Won’t you please help me?”
Withington looked at her for a long moment, long enough to make her squirm just a little, and then he again laughed. “Why not? For the sake of star-crossed love, I shall brave the wrath of your dragonish sister. I only hope Julius appreciates my sacrifice.”
Yes! “Oh, but please don’t ever speak of this to Lord Cavendish or anyone else,” she begged. “I should be humiliated beyond words.”
“I promise not to breathe a word.” He looked about nervously. “But, erm, shouldn’t we return before your fire-breathing sister misses you and comes looking for you?”
“Yes, of course.” Victoria winced. It would probably be wise to make Amelia sound a bit more attractive. “Amelia really isn’t as terrible as I’ve made her out to be,” she said sheepishly. “She can be really sweet.” When she wants to be, which is, unfortunately, not very often, she thought sourly. “Papa says she inherited our mother’s kind and gentle spirit.”
“Of course,” he said with a wry look. “She seemed very kind and gentle to me—for a dragon.”
Damn.
They made it safely out of the boxwood maze without encountering any of its other denizens, though they did hear the occasional groan or quickly stifled outburst of laughter from the other side of the hedge. Withington quickly pulled her away from the sources of those noises.
Once free, the pair ran back across the green, giggling like little children all the way.
“Thank God no one saw us,” puffed Withington as they climbed the stairs to the terrace.
“Thank God I didn’t wear the smaller gown tonight,” Victoria gasped, holding her side and laughing. “Had I done so, I’d never have made it across that expanse without fainting. And then we would have been in trouble.”
Withington shook with laughter. “You are quite the surprise, Lady Victoria. I can’t help but wonder what mischief you’ll get up to next.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, my lord,” she replied, belying her prim words with a grin.
Her heart was light as they rejoined the soiree, but her good spirits s
oured as she spied her sister approaching. She elbowed Withington. “Brace yourself,” she muttered.
He looked in the direction of her chin-jerk and smothered a laugh.
“How glad I am to have found you again,” said Amelia, the fury in her eyes belying her sweet tone of voice. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to watch you the whole time, dear, but Scarbrough stole me away.” She smiled her most patronizing smile. “Such a shame, for I know how very hard you practiced it.”
Victoria’s hackles rose. How dare she? “Quite all right, sister dear,” she replied with exaggerated cheer. “Withy made certain I was well cared for in your absence. We took a lovely walk. In the gardens.”
At her side Withington choked on an inhalation and began to cough.
Amelia pounced. “Goodness me! Are you quite well, my lord?” She moved close to peer into his reddening face. Too close.
He nodded, rasping a barely discernible yes.
“Poor thing!” tutted Amelia. “Perhaps you ought to sit for a moment and rest.” Without waiting for his assent, she appropriated his arm. “Why don’t we get away from this crush?” She walked away, leaving him no choice but to come along or disengage—which no gentleman would do, of course.
Watching them, Victoria shook her head. Amelia was so predictable.
“That was…interesting,” murmured Cavendish from behind, making her yelp in surprise. “Is Lady Amelia always so forceful?”
Damn and blast! Her stomach twisted as she realized he had seen the entire interplay. “My sister seems to have taken a liking to Lord Withington,” she replied with reluctance. “I’m afraid she does have a tendency to be very direct in her approach.”
“Well, if the liking is mutual, perhaps he’ll finally settle down.”
If only. “Amelia is a bit unconventional. Sometimes she intimidates people with her abrupt manner, but she’s really quite tenderhearted, and very intel—”
“I’ve already said I’m not interested in your sister.”
His eyes were merry, but his voice was firm, and again Victoria felt the strange pull down in her belly.
He held out his hand. “Come. I want to show you something.”
Heart in her throat, she allowed him to lead her out of the ballroom. Her excitement was completely legitimate, of course. Her plan was working. Well, part of it, at any rate.
No need for worry, she told herself as they entered a quiet hallway lined with portraits. The instant Amelia sees Cavendish’s interest in me, she will leave off her pursuit of Withington and start chasing him instead.
At the very end of the passage, he stopped at a small wooden door and opened it.
She was enveloped by a rush of warm, earthy-smelling air as she stepped over the threshold into a moonlit wonderland. The space was full of exotic flowers, their colors muted in the silvery light. The tinkling sound of falling water greeted her ears, and sweet, pungent aromas mingled in a veritable Garden of Eden. “What is this place?”
“Our conservatory. Years ago, I converted the old solarium to further my study of botany. My mother supervised its upkeep while I was away. I was very surprised by how well she maintained it. I admit that I half expected to come home and find it turned into a conventional hothouse filled with cucumbers and tomatoes.”
“It’s beautiful.” She touched a velvety petal with reverence. “Did you say you studied botany?”
“You sound so very shocked,” he laughed. “But yes, it’s true. I find flowers fascinating for their beauty and endless variety. There seems to be no end of either. New blooms are discovered every day.”
She almost snorted in disbelief. He certainly didn’t look like any botanist she’d ever seen—and she’d seen quite a few, thanks to Papa. He was of the opinion that her sister preferred bookish men; thus, he’d trotted every “scientific-minded” gentleman in England through their parlor in an effort to tempt her into matrimony.
With the exception of this one. Certainly she would never have guessed that a man like him would enjoy such a hobby. “How did you become interested?” she asked as she ran a gentle finger along the edge of a leaf—a Trillium grandiflorum from the Colonies, or so said the plaque beneath it.
“During a childhood visit to the home of one of my father’s friends, I was shown an orchid,” he answered. “It looked unearthly, as if it didn’t quite belong in the mortal realm. I asked the man where it had come from and he told me it was from the far-off jungles of India.” He smiled softly. “He gave me a small plant for my own, told me how to care for it, and I became obsessed. As an adult, I traveled all over Asia and Africa collecting different varieties. These are only some of the ones I brought back. King George has a great many of them in his conservatory.”
That explains why he is so…robust. She’d heard tales of the extreme climates, savage natives, and virulent diseases in the uncivilized corners of the world. Any man who tramped all over such places looking for plants had to be strong in order to survive. “I imagine you’ve seen more in your lifetime than I should ever see in mine,” she said softly, trailing her fingers in the pool beneath the fountain.
“You make me sound so old,” he said in a wounded tone, laughing. “But I’m not done living just yet, madam. I can assure you that I’m still quite spry.”
Of that she had no doubt. Again, she found his nearness disturbing. Under the pretense of wishing to study a creeping vine laden with white flowers, she moved farther down the aisle. While breathing in the heady scent of the starlike blooms, she read the plaque below: Jasminum sambac, Burma.
Burma. It might as well have said the moon. The farthest she’d ever gone was Bath. She felt Cavendish’s approach and shivered as he came beside her.
After a moment, he took the stem from her trembling fingers. “Please forgive me, Lady Victoria. If you are uncomfortable, we will return to the ballroom immediately. I thought only to share this place with you, since you seemed to dislike the noise and crowding as much as I.”
She laughed, and it came out sounding as weak as her knees felt at the moment. “I’m not afraid of you, my lord. It’s just that I’m not often alone in the company of any man, with the exception of Papa. I thank you for sharing your sanctuary with me; it is truly a marvel.”
“You should see it during the day. Only, I’m afraid the flowers you see now would be closed. These begin to open only after sunset.” He led her over to another plant. “This one is a Gardenia gummifera, a gift from my good friend, Linnaeus. It’s called Nadihingu by the natives of India and is considered a gift from heaven for its many medicinal uses. You can’t see it now, but the blooms are a pale amber color.”
Leaning over, Victoria sniffed the flower he held up for her, inhaling a lush sweetness that she imagined would make a lovely perfume. “It is heavenly,” she sighed. All around her, exotic blooms released their silent messages into the night, casting an invisible net around her. She turned to ask her host a question about the plant and found him staring at her with a burning intensity that stole her words. It was another sort of silent message, one as clear and bright as day, even amid the moonlight and shadows.
Here, in this paradise far removed from the rest of the world, it seemed perfectly natural to tilt up her face as he bent to brush his lips against hers.
JULIUS TOOK ADVANTAGE, dipping in to taste her honeyed lips. On hearing her tremulous gasp, he clasped her about the waist and pulled her closer. Her lush curves molded against him, and he knew it was what he’d wanted from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
She pressed into him, her body demanding, her breath becoming short. His own response was immediate. Hard and insistent, his cock strained against the cloth of his breeches. There was no way to conceal his lust from her. Any moment now…
Indeed, she stilled instantly upon coming up against that most conspicuous bulge, and her eyes grew wide.
All at once, Julius realized he’d let things go a bit too far. “I beg your forgiveness, my lady. My lack of self-control is inexcusa
ble. You are simply…” He shook his head. He’d been about to tell her she was more than a man could resist, but he knew it would come out sounding trite and insincere. “Again, I apologize, madam. It will not happen again. Please allow me to escort you back to the ballroom.”
She did not move. “Why did you kiss me?”
Her voice was thick, her gaze drowsy with passion. But there was innocent curiosity in her eyes as well. The directness of her question deserved an honest answer. “Because you are incredibly beautiful. And because for all of my breeding, I am no gentleman.” He could only hope she didn’t tell Richmond of this incident.
“Kiss me again.”
Startled, he hesitated only briefly before giving himself over to the pleasure of again plundering the treasury between her lips. His hands wandered, learning the shape of her body through the silk of her gown. She was delectable in every sense of the word.
In the back of his mind, pushed as far away as possible, the cold and unwelcome voice of reason whispered that he should not, could not, do this. He was a duke’s son, raised to understand intimately the concepts of duty and self-discipline, and far too civilized to take advantage of an inexperienced young lady’s curiosity no matter how much she thought she wanted it.
Her tongue darted out to touch his in a tentative exploration, and he shuddered with longing the likes of which he had not felt in over a decade.
Only one other woman had ever had this kind of effect on him. He’d been instantly smitten with Martha, the beautiful daughter of their village’s blacksmith in Derbyshire. Each kiss with Martha had been golden, every embrace a pleasure so acute that he’d thought to die of it. It had been impossible for him to keep away from her.
Everyone had turned a blind eye. After all, it was perfectly normal and healthy for a young gentleman to sow his oats. But despite being just seventeen, Julius had wanted far more than just a few nights’ pleasure. He’d begged his father to purchase a commission for him so that he could marry her. Refused summarily and given the choice of going to Oxford or being disowned, only his mother’s pleas had prevented him from turning his back on his home and family.
