“Not at all.” She’d backed herself into a cluster of lilac bushes.
Voices sounded in the distance as some of her mother’s other guests made their way outside. It really was a beautiful afternoon.
But the presence of the other guests prevented him from stealing even a single kiss. He ought to have taken advantage of having her alone earlier, but that would have been risky since he tended to lose all sense of time and place when she was in his arms.
Her gaze flicked toward the door, aware as well that they were no longer alone.
She straightened her spine and took on that proper look she wore most of the time.
She took his arm, and the two of them promenaded quite properly back to the formal path. “Are you frightened?” She asked, lowering her voice.
“Should I be?”
“I might expectthat anyone with someone trying to kill them might be afraid.” Felicity couldn’t joke about this.
Although today, Axel seemed sturdy, healthy, and hale once again. It was almost possible to dismiss the bumbling attacks.
But even a bumbler got lucky every once in a while.
Axel tugged at the back of his neck. “I’m not afraid for myself. But two of those attacks have put you in jeopardy. And I have no idea—” He shook his head.
“None at all?”
“My only thoughts are that someone wants revenge on my family—for something my father may have done. But if that’s the case, their going about this all wrong.”
Felicity hated that. She hated that his own father didn’t value Axel enough that he would be harmed if something were to happen to him.
“What else did you eat the night you took ill? Do you remember?”
“Aside from what I ate for dinner here,” he shook his head. “Nothing.”
Her father’s servants had worked for her family for as long as she could remember. They were nothing if not utterly loyal.
“You had nothing else to drink?”
He paused and rubbed his chin. “A few drinks from my private stash of whiskey, gifted to me by Westerley and…” He glanced down at her with a wince.
“Miss Jackson?” She squeezed his arm. “I am quite past my resentment of the new countess, so you needn’t worry.”
He cocked a brow. “Are you past the reason for that resentment?”
“I am past that as well.” The feelings she’d had for Westerley seemed anemic compared to the emotions Axel evoked. Merely holding his arm and walking together stirred up all sorts of inappropriate thoughts.
She had wanted Westerley’s kiss because it would have signified his commitment to their betrothal. She wanted Axel’s kiss because she would wither away without it.
Axel nodded and then turned so they could continue their stroll. Perhaps, he too, felt the vibrating desire humming inside her.
Before knowing Axel, she’d been fine—but that was all. Since then, she’d experienced a spectrum of emotions she hadn’t even known existed. She felt more alive than ever before.
But was this love? Or merely a heady effect of mining her passions?
“If it was the whiskey that made me ill, then that would mean someone would have had to have broken into my father’s house while we were here for dinner.”
“Or it could have been a disgruntled servant.”
“The servants are well aware of my father’s ill regard for me. If they wanted to harm him, they’d know I was not the person to attack.”
“Who would they attack then? Your stepmother?”
