But he’d been correct: they did have a few matters to unravel between them.
And the tight center of an elaborate labyrinth seemed the perfect setting.
Chapter 26
Jake rounded yet another leafy corner and found himself facing a hedgerow identical to the one he’d just left behind. He was late, not having accounted for the fact that he hadn’t the faintest idea how to find the labyrinth’s center. Olivia would know it like the back of her hand.
A memory from last night stole in: her hand feathering across his bruised chest before pressing her lips to it. That kiss had penetrated all the way through to his heart, and he still felt it there, filling him to bursting. No longer was there room for the hurt, shame, and regret that had plagued him for years. Before him lay a future different from the one he’d envisioned since setting foot in London.
And he was free to pursue that future. If he could ever find her.
Fifteen minutes ago, he’d watched her duck out of the ballroom, champagne flute in hand, wobble in her step. Since it wouldn’t do for them to leave together, he’d stood in affable silence for a full five minutes while a lively matron extolled the virtues of her daughter, who stood quietly to the side, eyes cast down to the tips of her white satin slippers. The girl couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Mina. The idea of selling Mina off to a man old enough to be her father churned his gut.
He’d offered the pair a succinct bow and excused himself, taking a different exit from Olivia, in case curious eyes tracked their movements. One couldn’t be too sure with these people.
He snorted and shook his head to clear it. Here he was: a formerly capable man reduced to prey for theton. He made a sharp right, and stopped dead, the breath frozen in his chest. Suddenly, he stood inside the labyrinth’s center, his future laid out before him.
Awash in moonlight, luminous and sublime, lay a supine Olivia stretched atop a marble bench, gazing up at the night sky, champagne flute lolling gracefully at the end of an outstretched arm. A vision of aristocratic elegance, her ball gown cascaded toward dewy grass that stretched across the space between him and her. The statue of a long-forgotten saint stood vigil, poised to grant a special indulgence only for her, this Aphrodite.
He stepped forward, snapping both a twig and Olivia out of her reverie. She shot up and swung her legs around, eyes flashing, lips drawn in a straight line just turned down at the corners. She resembled less amorous Aphrodite than vengeful Hera.
This wasn’t at all the mood he wanted, or expected, for the question he would ask.
“In the excitement of the ball, I forgot to ask you a question that has been bothering me since this morning.” The glare beneath her furrowed brow intensified. “Why were you really at Jiro’s studio?”
Her question struck him like a swift left hook to the jaw. An inauspicious beginning to say the least, but one he must address if he was to salvage a night that had begun to slide away from him. “Jiro”—The name came unstuck from his throat—“knew of Mina from Japan.”
Olivia’s head canted to the side. “Knewof Mina from Japan? I thought she was a few days old when she left.”
“She was.”
“Then what would it matter to Jiro that Mina is in London? Were you acquainted with him in Japan?”
Jake stilled, body braced for a blow from a larger opponent. “I’d never spoken to the man until today.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Either you’re talking nonsense or the champagne is dulling my mental faculties. And, for the record, while I think it could be the latter, I’m leaning toward the former.”
“I didn’t know he was here until I saw the sketches.”
She leaned forward until she perched on the very edge of her seat. “What sketches?” she asked, her voice a low and hard mirror of the cold stone beneath her. Dread stole into the air and hung about her in heavy waves.
He must speak the words aloud. “The ones I knocked from your hands.”
“What is it to you that either the paintings or Jiro are in London?”
“Have you ever noticed the group of young women in the final painting of the set?”
“Bottom left corner.”
“One girl stands slightly apart, reading.”
“A book.”
“Pardon?”
“A Western-style book.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. She knew.
