The merriment fled her eyes. She angled her head at him. "Surely you don't expect a proper miss to go traipsing into a dark and secluded place with a scoundrel bent on seducing her?"
Damn.
"Anordinarymiss mightn't." He smiled the devil's smile. "But one never knows what Miss Priscilla Farnham will do."
13
Standing at the crossroads,Miss Priscilla Farnham looked from the well-traveled path to the one less taken. A minute ticked by. "Oh, what the hell," she said and gathered up her skirts.
—fromThe Perils of Priscilla,a manuscript-in-waiting by P. R. Fines
Percy didn't know what it said about her that she could never resist a challenge. Even as a girl, all her brother had to say was "I dare you," and she'd be off climbing the tallest tree in the park or stealing a pie from Cook. No matter how atrocious the outcome, it seemed she never learned.
Case in point? The present moment.
She looked at the fading lights behind and then to the shadowy darkness ahead. Already she and Hunt had passed by the magnificent Octagon temples, which marked the perimeter of the well-populated area. Now they were trespassing into a far more dangerous realm, one containing the infamous twisting walks and lovers' coves. Overhead, colossal elms waved their leafy arms like ancient magicians casting a spell.
A breeze shivered against her cheek, warm from the dancing and the punch… wait, how many cups had she had? Frowning, she realized she felt ever so slightly tipsy. She needed to regroup for a minute, reinforce the rules.
"Before we go any further, Mr. Hunt, I wish to remind you of our contract," she said.
He didn't break his stride. "I haven't forgotten the bloody thing." He looked this way and that, muttering, "The entrance to the clearing is here somewhere..."
"So if I tell you to cease, you must cease." She cleared her throat. "In whatever you happen to be doing. Correct?"
He shot her a sardonic look. "Haven't I kept my word so far?"
Hehadhonored his promises thus far, and the dancing had been sublime. Besides, people were still gathered here along the main walk, couples mostly, giggling and chatting in the manner of lovers. She had a moment's wonder about what it would be like to be here with Lord Charles instead of Hunt—but the notion was so inconceivable that she let it go. Instead, she inhaled the scent of flowering jasmine and wood smoke, gravel crunching under her slippers as she followed her companion. From head to toe, she felt giddy with sensation.
"It's marvelous here," she sighed. "I wish I could come all the time. Do you?"
Hunt was poking around in the bushes, an annoyed expression upon his face. "Do I what?"
"Visit Vauxhall. On a regular basis."
"Not usually." Stopping, he contemplated the gap between two elms. "This is the way to the clearing, I think."
She peered at the trail snaking into the blackness. "Are you certain? It looks rather dark in there. I don't see any indication of a break in the trees."
"I know where I am going," he said with a scowl. "Follow me, else we'll miss the fireworks entirely."
Rolling her eyes at the broad back in front of her, she followed him into the dense maze of hedges. Hunt cleared the way, chopping at the overgrown bushes with a snapped branch. The sounds of the gay crowd faded into the distance, and the ever-deepening dimness took on a surreal quality. The air was sultry against her skin, thickened with the scent of greenery and rich earth. Her heart seemed to beat in rhythm with the whoosh and whack of Hunt's makeshift scythe.
Yet not all adventures ended in success, and after a few minutes it became clear (at least to her) that they were not going to find what they were looking for. By that time, her slippers had accumulated enough pebbles to line a drive, and tendrils of the wig lay pasted against her sweaty forehead.
"Hold up a moment, will you?" Percy said. They'd reached a small opening in the dense brush, what might have once been a lover's nook. The faint moonlight revealed a small bench covered in moss, and she cast herself upon it gladly. She removed one slipper, and gravel showered to the ground. "If you are lost, perhaps we should go back and ask for directions."
"I am not lost." Towering over her, Hunt spoke through his teeth. "I never get lost."
"You and most males," she said.
The dim light glazed the harsh planes of his face. "What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing of import," she said blithely. "No need to get in a lather. Why don't you relax and sit down, have a bit of a chat?"
He remained standing, hands braced on his lean hips, a perfect rendition of a thunderous Hades. Not exactly the type of man one invited for atête-à-tête. For some reason, the notion made her want to giggle.
"What in blazes do you want to chat about?" he demanded.
