Or a pig.
Ribbons festooned the branches of the hedge before her, all clustered together by color. She assumed the idea was for one to take up a handful of say, red ribbon, and string the silk behind you as you went along so as not to become lost in the maze. Her hands stroked the ribbons for some time in indecision. Finally, Aurora chose blue, to match her dress, nearly falling into the branches.
“Drat.” She brushed leaves and a stray twig from her sleeve, feeling only a bit unsteady. “The ground is far too uneven at Lady Berriwell’s.” She blew a puff of air at a chestnut curl that fell over one eye. Clutching the ribbons, Aurora made her way down the path, humming softly. A maze, at least, would provide some amusement. Grisham, though handsome, wasn’t terribly entertaining.
Not like Worth.
Aurora frowned, stomping quickly down the path until she came to a juncture. Two choices, right or left.
“Hmm.” She tapped a finger. “Right, I think.” She tried to imagine the shape of the maze in her head, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Worth and his annoying handsomeness. Nothing at all to mar his perfection. Not so much as an ill-placed mole. Or a wart. If there was only something, Aurora might be able to put aside her—affection? Lustful tendencies? Curiosity? He’d taken his coat off when they’d played bowls so long ago. At the time, Aurora had been struck dumb by all that long-limbed elegance, thinking of having his form pressed against her own.
Heat bloomed once more, this time stroking along the skin of her stomach.
She forced the curl back once more, groaning in frustration. Placing a blue ribbon on the hedge before her, Aurora twirled, nearly lost her footing again, straightened, and continued on.
Aunt Lottie might well be hiding in the maze somewhere. Lord Kenebruke was the name of the gentleman she’d gone sprinting after. After careful questioning of Grisham during the game of bowls, he had confirmed the elderly man’s identity. The Earl of Kenebruke, oddly enough, was from Northumberland, where Dunnings was located.
Life was full of coincidences.
Ribbons littered the hedges, perhaps left by some of the garden party’s other guests who’d traversed this same path earlier, making it entirely possible to become confused about which blue ribbons were hers. Aurora plucked at the ribbon, glancing back the way she’d come. She hadn’t been paying any attention to the number of turns she’d taken.
With a shrug, Aurora continued. Sooner or later, someone would find her missing and come looking in the maze. Maybe Grisham. Or Aunt Lottie.
Please let it be Worth.
“Drat. No,” she said out loud. He was more likely to put her over his knee and spank her as one does an errant child. Sheimagined her skirts up, laying across his lap—the sting of his palm against—
“Oh dear.” She clutched the hedge to keep from stumbling as the warmth pulsing along her stomach reached up to circle both her breasts. Those graceful fingers would touch the skin of her bare bottom. Glide over the back of her legs.
Aurora nearly fell into the hedge once more.
“You should be trying to find a way out, Aurora.” Nodding, she stepped down the path again, the sound of her own voice a bit of comfort.
The maze hadn’t looked terribly big when standing in the tent or viewing it from the game of bowls, but now that she might be lost inside the tall, sharply cut greenery, the maze had become enormous. And deathly quiet. She could no longer hear the musicians playing near the tent nor the shouts from those guests engaged in a game of bowls.
If worse came to worst, and she couldn’t find her way out, no one came looking—she forced the vision of Worth out of her mind—Aurora could simply squeeze through the hedges. Yes, she’d likely tear her gown. Branches and thorns would pull at her hair giving the appearance she’d been up to no good and possibly cause a bit of gossip. But eventually, the lawnwouldappear. Or something more horrifying. Such as Aunt Lottie in an indelicate situation with Lord Kenebruke. That seemed far more likely.
She stopped before a topiary of a fox set at the end of this row of hedges. Her brow furrowed. Hadn’t she already passed this way? The punch had muddled her a bit.
Stepping around the fox, Aurora squeezed through the hedges behind it, certain she’d come out on the lawn. But all that was before her was the gravel path and another row of hedges. She cocked one ear, listening for any sound, and heard nothing.
“Perfect. I am lost. I wish I’d thought to bring some punch with me.”
She went back through the hedge to the fox once more and traced her steps. The problem became apparent immediately. There was an overabundance of blue ribbons. She’d no idea which were hers or if any of them were. She strode down the row and took another turn, only to find herself before the bloody fox once more.
“This is ridiculous.” The silence was deafening. Not so much as the chirp of a bird. “Left.” She tapped her chin once more. “No, right.” Aurora turned and headed down a path that didn’t look the least familiar. “Drat.”
She spun sharply at the burst of crimson ribbon wound around one shrub, the ends batted about in the breeze. At least someone had been this way. Parts of the hedge looked as if they had been snapped.
Someone else had gotten lost and decided to go through the hedge and not around. The idea made her feel somewhat better.
Aurora eased herself inside the thick hedges, frowning when the sharp edge of one branch snagged on her skirts. There was also the problem of the stupid crimson ribbon, far longer than the ones in her hand for some unknown reason. The ribbon had somehow managed to twist around her ankle. She bent to try to untangle herself, but the sound of her skirts tearing stopped her. Good grief. Trapped in a hedge, slightly foxed and shredding her clothing.
This was aterribleparty.
“Naughty boy, Worthington,” a throaty, feminine voice made its way through the hedge.
Aurora froze. Lifting her chin ever so slightly, she caught sight of a small clearing in the maze containing a statue. A Greek god of some sort, though Aurora couldn’t see clearly enough to determine which one. She was far more shocked at the sight of Lady Bryant lifting her skirts up her silk-clad legs.
