“Your cousin has been consciously aiding your ruination at my hands?” Nick said in mock horror.
“Indeed.” She kissed his hand.
“Well, then perhaps I will let him win at cards tonight.” Nick nuzzled her neck. “I love you.”
“And I you.” She lifted her head for a kiss. “Go on. Enjoy yourself. Pray be quiet as you leave so that Anna doesn’t see you.”
Nick raised her arm to press a kiss to her wrist. “Soon.”
She watched his tall form disappear behind the hedges leading to the stables, feeling a bit bereft at his leaving.
“Silly," she muttered. “That I should already miss him. I wonder if Cook has any of those delicious tarts leftover from last night. A bit of chocolate would be most welcome.” She waved to Anna who was rapidly approaching.
“I’m here, Anna. Do I have time to change?”
The maid cast a searching look about the garden, frowning as she did so. “I could have sworn I heard the duke.” She regarded Jemma with disapproval.
“Don’t be silly.” Jemma smiled to herself. “You know we aren’t to see each other until the wedding.”
* * *
“I thinkthe gown fits you beautifully.” Petra, her arm linked with Jemma’s hugged her tightly. The pair strolled down a path in the park, the watchful coach bearing Aunt Mary and Uncle John close by, but out of hearing.
Jemma enjoyed her cousin’s enthusiasm. “Madame Fontaine is an excellent seamstress. I think the duke will be very pleased when he sees me.”
Petra laughed. “Pleased is not the word for it, cousin. Thetonis scandalized by the duke’s adoration of you. It's quite unheard of.” Petra smiled broadly and gave Jemma another squeeze. “I hope to someday find a gentleman who looks at me the way His Grace looks at you. I quite like him and cannot believe I ever feared him.”
“I have no doubt you will find your match,” Jemma said to Petra as she turned to wave at her aunt and uncle. She watched as Uncle John tugged on a stray curl that escaped her aunt’s coiffure. The gesture caused an instant ache in her for Nick.
“Oh look, there’s Lord Bennett.” Petra waved at a handsome young man riding a coffee colored horse that drew aside her parents’ carriage. The young man greeted Lord and Lady Marsh warmly before looking over his shoulder at Petra. “I think I’ll just say hello. I’ll be right back.”
Jemma nodded, knowing that Petra favored Lord Bennett. At least for the moment. She moved farther along the path to inspect a particularly lovely bloom, careful to keep within hearing of her aunt and uncle. The name of the flower escaped her. Certainly, it wasn’t a rose.
“My lady?” A young boy ran out of the bramble and wood of the park to stand before her. The boy was panting with exertion and sweat beaded his upper lip. “I’m to tell Jem that His Grace wishes you to find him.” The boy’s voice shook. “You’re to follow the path of peonies, my lady.”
Peonies.That’s what the flowers were called.
More importantly, Nick had found her in the park. Perhaps he had changed his mind about obeying her aunt’s restrictions. Was he even now hiding in the thick wood before her?
“My lady?” The boy looked up at her. “I’m to lead you to him.”
Jemma slid a glance towards her family and Lord Bennett. “Only for a moment. His Grace should know better.” But she was glad he did not for she longed to see Nick again.
The boy nodded nervously and started down a small trail leading into the wood. Beckoning Jemma with one hand he urged her. “He waits.”
Jemma gave her aunt and uncle one last glance before following the boy. The trail twisted from the main path as the boy led her deeper into a wooded thicket. She turned around but could no longer see her uncle’s carriage nor hear Petra’s tinkling laugh as her cousin flirted with Lord Bennett. “Where is the duke?” she said to the boy, leaning forward to catch the back of his coat.
The boy twisted out of her hands and ran further ahead before disappearing into a large thicket.
“Why I’m right here.” A voice came from behind her just as a sweet-smelling cloth came over her mouth and nose. Jemma struggled against the arms holding her and turned her head trying to get away from the cloth, but the man held the fabric firmly against her nose.
She struggled, realizing too late that the message did not come from Nick. Twisting and turning, she tried to gasp at fresh air even as the lids of her eyes threatened to close. All strength left her body, and she slid into the arms of the man holding her. She felt herself sag against him as he lifted her, limp as a rag doll. Bleary eyed she tried to focus on her surroundings, the wood around her fading, but not enough that she didn’t recognize the face that hovered above hers.
Augie smiled down at her. “Hello, Jemma.”
24
Rowan walked up the steps of the Dunbar town house, pausing only to rap at the door with his walking stick. As he waited for the door to open, a carriage bearing the Cambourne coat of arms pulled up. A footman opened a shiny black door to help the stunningly beautiful occupant, Lady Miranda, sister of the Marquess of Cambourne, exit the carriage.
