“We shall draw straws for pairs! Each couple receives a jar. The pair that captures the most fireflies wins a prize.” She winked outrageously. “Romantic, yes?”
Groans and laughter rippled through the group.
Straws were drawn, and names were called. Austin held his breath when Deena’s turn came. She pulled a long straw beside Lord Monthall, a pleasant, harmless viscount.
Monthall cleared his throat. “Lady Deena, I’m honored, but… I fear I must decline.”
The dowager pouted. “Why is that, Lord Monthall?”
“It’s quite all right, Grandmother,” Deena said sweetly.
“Is my sister not good enough for you?” Dominic butted in, and Austin motioned to him to calm down.
“N…no, Your Grace,” Lord Monthall stuttered nervously, “It is just that…Lady Belle and I have already settled matters between us. So, I’ll sit this one out.”
The dowager clapped her hands delightfully. “A match! Already! This will be the quickest in Duke Hunt history!”
Cheers and teasing followed around the group until Lord Monthall and Lady Belle blushed as red as the roses that surrounded them.
Austin chuckled, the sound low and warm, but it died in his throat the instant he saw Deena’s expression shift. The spark in her green eyes dimmed; her lips pressed together in a small, disappointed line as she glanced towards the dark meadow where fireflies already winked like fallen stars.
“Rejected,” she murmured almost to herself. “Of course.”
The dowager was still clapping delightedly over Lord Monthall’s announcement, declaring it the fastest match in Duke Hunt history, but Deena’s gaze lingered on the shadows beyond the lanterns, longing plain on her face.
Austin felt something twist in his chest. Dominic, standing a few paces away, caught Austin’s eye. His friend’s expression was unreadable for a moment, then he gave a subtle nod toward Deena, clear and deliberate.
Message received.
He decided to step forward. “Then allow me to volunteer, Lady Deena. Someone must help you fill that jar.”
Deena looked up, surprise softening into a small smile. “You’re certain?”
“Absolutely.” He offered his arm, pulse kicking when her gloved fingers settled on his sleeve. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to chase fireflies with you.”
The dowager handed them a jar tied with green ribbon. “Off you go! You have thirty minutes!”
“Mind the brambles,” Dominic said, tone deceptively casual. “And the mud. And anything else that might… trip you up in the dark.”
Austin met his friend’s eyes with a bland smile. “I’ll keep her safe, Greystone.”
Dominic’s brow arched. “See that you do.” Then, softer, meant for both of them: “Enjoy the fireflies. They don’t last long.”
Deena’s fingers tightened fractionally on Austin’s sleeve. “We’ll be careful,” she promised.
Dominic gave a short nod, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Thirty minutes,” he echoed the dowager. “Not a second more.”
The dowager beamed, already turning to shoo the next pair onward. “Off with you!”
They slipped away from the lanterns into the darker reaches of the garden, where the grass was cool and dew-kissed beneath their feet. The air grew richer, thick with the scent of damp earth, late roses, and something sweeter. Overhead, the sky was a deep indigo pricked with stars. A thin silver crescent spilled just enough light to silver the edges of leaves and turn the drifting fireflies into tiny living lanterns.
A few paces in, the first firefly winked past Deena’s shoulder. She sensed it and stopped, jar in hand as her green eyes widened with childlike delight.
“Look,” she whispered as though speaking too loudly might frighten them away.
Austin followed her gaze. Another light blinked, then another. There were languid pulses of gold hovering in the air around them. Soon, a dozen rose from the grass and drifted upward in lazy spirals. The meadow seemed to breathe with them.
Deena lifted the jar and moved carefully. “Hold still,” she murmured to one hovering near her wrist. It landed delicately on the rim of the glass before fluttering inside. She giggled gleefully, and Austin found himself holding his breath.
