She found a bench and considered how to escape. When she idly examined the back wall, one of the gardeners decided to tend to a fruit tree espaliered across it.
It went without saying that the back portal was locked. She had eyed it while she passed. The lock appeared new, sturdy, and difficult to pick. Only at night would she have enough time. By then, it would probably be too late.
Each hour that passed meant that buckle might be on its way and she would lose any chance to follow it. Langford had no idea how he had jeopardized her mother’s safety, but she still blamed him for this unnecessary interference.
Vincent chose that moment to stroll in the garden.
“I am over here,” she called. “You do not have to act as gaoler. The gardeners are serving the purpose just as well.”
“I am only here in the event you require something,” he said while he walked closer.
“You do understand that helping to abduct me was a crime, don’t you? The duke would never be called to justice for that, but you very well could be.”
“You were not abducted. You entered the carriage of your own will. As for justice, His Grace said you would never go to the magistrate.”
Did he now?
She turned over last night’s conversation in her cellar. She remembered Langford’s description of her activities. Illegal?
Had he guessed? She could not imagine how he might have. Yet something had led him to become very suspicious of her.
“The duke was wrong. I cannot be kept here indefinitely. When I leave, I will march right to the magistrate and lay down information against you. Then you will see how it feels to be locked up.”
That amused him. “If you promise I will have a cell like yours, and eat the chef’s best delicacies, I might help you to leave. Why not enjoy the luxury while it is yours? I would.”
“Prison is prison no matter how nice the linens. Now, please let me be. It is rude to be so obvious in your lack of trust. At least go where I can’t see you.”
He humored her by walking away some distance. But she saw he had taken a position with a clear view of the walls and portals.
Vincent was merely following Langford’s orders. She would like to know what had inspired those orders, however.
She had the opportunity to demand an explanation a few minutes later when she spied him coming through the French doors. As soon as he appeared, Vincent headed into the house and the gardeners made themselves scarce.
He came to her on a path that wound through the flower beds. Dark. Crisp. Hard. She wished his blue eyes sparkled like gems and not like ice. She missed his ready smiles.
You have only yourself to blame if he is cold to you. The woman he found last night was a mystery in all the wrong ways.
He sat beside her on the bench. “I trust you have been made comfortable?”
“If I were a guest, I could not complain about a thing.”
“You are a guest. If you think otherwise, I can show you how there are places to truly imprison a person in that house.”
There probably were. “Thank you for not putting me in one of them.”
For all his sternness, she felt something of the old bonds while he sat this closely, their legs almost touching. She wondered if he did too. “I am sorry that I did not tell you I was leaving my life behind.”
“Just as well. I would have asked why, and then you would have had to lie to me.”
“I do not lie easily.”
“Do you not? Lady Farnsworth said you were going to aid your mother. You did not tell her you planned to remain in London.”
“I never said my mother was not in London.”
He smiled sardonically. “You do not lie often, but when you do, you lie very well, it appears. You allow others to supply the lie in their heads so you do not speak it. You only say enough to lead their thoughts where you want them to go.” He gave her a deep gaze. “That is a rare talent. Are you that clever, Amanda?”
To her surprise, he took her hand in his. She closed her eyes while she fought to contain what his touch did to her. It melted her resolve and made her almost glad he had interfered with her plans.
