"Ah, well. You didn’t give me the chance. You were too busy flinging yourself into my arms."
"I did no such thing."
"You positively launched, my lady."
Lady Louisa emerged fully now, her expression one of gleeful observation. "You did rather launch, Alex."
Alexandra glared at her friend. "Traitor."
Louisa responded with an exaggerated curtsey and a mischievous wink. "What are best friends for, if not to bear witness to your most dramatic entrances?" She plucked a petal from Alexandra’s sleeve. "I shall treasure the memory forever."
Alexandra pressed her lips together, stifling a laugh that bubbled up unbidden. It would be so easy to join in the amusement, to pretend it hadn’t meant anything. And that, she feared, was the most dangerous part of all.
From the opposite direction, Langley's companion strolled into view. He was blond, lean, and looked like he hadn’t a care in the world.
"Viscount Redford," he said with an elegant bow. "And may I say, that was the most entertaining encounter I have witnessed all season."
"It was not a meet-cute," Alexandra said, horrified.
Langley rose slowly, languidly, and offered a smirk that belonged in a scandal sheet. Alexandra hated how it made her stomach flip—infuriating proof that charm, even when unwanted, could still land its mark. "It rather was, though."
She huffed and turned on her heel. "Well, if you will excuse me, I’ll leave you to your tulips and inflated egos."
Langley’s gaze followed her retreating figure, lips twitching as he took in the sway of her skirts and the fire in her step. There was something about the way she moved—unapologetic, untamed—that tugged at something buried deep, a place long resigned to boredom and predictability. Trouble, indeed.
"Leaving so soon? But we were just getting acquainted,” he called after her.
She didn’t look back. "Precisely why I’m leaving."
As she disappeared around the hedge, Louisa at her heels, she heard Redford mutter, ”She is going to be trouble, isn’t she?"
Langley's answer came with a chuckle. "Delightfully so."
"You do realize," Louisa said as they navigated the maze's exit, "that you have just made a mortal enemy."
"I hope not. I'd prefer to never see him again."
"Don’t be absurd. Lord Langley never lets go of an interesting distraction."
Alexandra crossed her arms, huffing as she turned her face toward the maze’s exit. A sharper reply danced on the tip of her tongue—clever, cutting—but it slipped away, lost in the flurry of emotions she didn’t care to name. "I am not a distraction."
Louisa gave her a look. "Darling, you landed in his lap in a bed of tulips. And don't pretend you’ve forgotten how his arm wrapped around your waist, or the way the tulips smelled when you were practically nose-deep in them. You are the distraction."
Alexandra scowled. "He’s exactly the sort of man I avoid. Too smooth. Too charming. Too convinced that the world was created solely for his amusement."
"Tall? Broad-shouldered? Wickedly attractive?” Louisa grinned with mischief.
“Untrustworthy,” Alexandra said, her tone dry.
Louisa sighed dreamily. "Even so, that was the most excitement we’ve had all spring. And I’m including the incident with the goose and Lord Winthrop’s toupee."
"That says more about the dullness of the Season than the quality of that man."
"Oh, Alexandra. You can protest all you want, but I know that look in your eye. You’re intrigued."
"I am infuriated."
Louisa only smiled.
