“We are in public.” But her protest was weak, her eyes already darkening with want.
“We are in a very private corner of a public place.” He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “And I have been thinking about kissing you all afternoon.”
“Only kissing?” Her voice came out breathless.
“For now.” He captured her mouth with his.
The kiss started gently but quickly deepened, weeks of intimacy having taught them exactly how to drive each other to distraction. Sophia’s fingers tangled in his hair. His hands slid from her waist to her hips, pulling her closer. The world narrowed to the press of her body against his, the taste of her lips, the soft sounds she made against his mouth.
He forgot where they were. Forgot that they stood in a public park in broad daylight. Forgot everything except the woman in his arms and the fire she kindled in his blood.
“Your Grace!”
The voice cut through the haze. Edward wrenched back, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Mrs. Palmer stood at the edge of the trees, her face pale, her chest heaving with exertion.
“It’s Master Oliver.” Her voice shook. “I cannot find him. I only looked away for a moment, and he was gone.”
The world tilted. Edward felt the blood drain from his face.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“He was feeding the ducks, and then a dog ran past, and he chased after it, and I tried to follow, but there were so many people, and I lost sight of him—” Mrs. Palmer’s voice broke on a sob.
Edward was already moving, Sophia close behind. They burst out of the trees and scanned the area near the Serpentine. Families strolled along the paths. Children played on the grass. Couples sat on benches, enjoying the sunshine.
No Oliver.
“You go left.” Edward’s voice emerged sharp with fear. “I will go right. Mrs. Palmer, stay here in case he returns.”
They split apart. Edward strode through the park, his eyes sweeping every cluster of people, every copse of trees, and every possible hiding place. His pulse roared in his ears. His hands shook.
Oliver. Where is Oliver?
He stopped passersby, describing a small boy with dark curls and blue eyes. A woman thought she had seen a child running toward the flower gardens. A gentleman recalled a boy chasing a spotted dog near the bridge.
Edward ran.
The flower gardens were empty of children. The bridge offered no sign of his nephew. He pushed deeper into the park, calling Oliver’s name, and ignoring the curious stares of strangers.
This was his fault. He had been distracted. Had been so consumed with wanting Sophia that he had taken his eyes off the one person who depended on him most.
If something had happened to Oliver…
He could not finish the thought.
Sophia found him.
She had circled back toward a wilder section of the park, following an instinct she could not name, and there he was. Sitting beneath a sprawling oak tree, his knees drawn to his chest, his small body shaking with silent sobs.
“Oliver!” She ran to him, her skirts tangling around her legs. She dropped to her knees and gathered him into her arms. “Oh, sweetheart. We were so worried.”
Oliver clung to her, his fingers fisting in her dress. His face was streaked with tears and dirt. His stockings were torn, his knees scraped and bleeding.
“I got lost.” His voice came out thin and wobbly. “I chased the dog, and then I could not find Mrs. Palmer, and I tried to come back, but everything looked the same, and I fell and hurt my knees, and I thought no one would find me?—”
“Shh.” Sophia held him tighter, rocking gently. “You’re safe now. I found you. You are safe.”
