She hated refusing. “It isn’t proper to enter someone else’s property without permission.”
“Nonsense. Mrs. Smith accepts visitors all the time. You would do her a service by taking yourself. Besides, no one willbe in the maze this time of day.” He tweaked her nose when she sent him a grateful grin. “Run along now.”
She kissed his cheek and made her escape.
There was a trick to the maze, like all great puzzles. Having learned the six lefts, two rights, and four lefts pattern by the time she’d reached eleven, Danny wove through the hedges with confidence, her destination the center of the maze, where one of her favorite statues stood guard over a three-tiered fountain, and a lovely oak bench perfect for avoiding all manner of unpleasantness.
So many of the figures were women, struggling to free themselves from the embraces of devils and men. With Uncle Jack’s weak knees and past year of failing health, no one seemed to mind how the hedge had started to encroach on the path, or how the statues along the way sported patches of mossy neglect. A pity that, since the brilliant greens of the leaves had given way to early oranges and yellows of autumn, leaving the entire surrounding feel of a world apart, where at any turn one could stumble upon a mythical creature wandering through the fire of color.
Danny made her second right and came up short at the tall creature standing under her beloved fountain, barely managing to keep her cry of surprise inside. She composed herself and laughed at allowing her imagination to make her a ninny, and instead turned her attention to the most certainlyhumanperson who seemed to find the fountain as engrossing as she.
Upon further study, the human was far too well dressed in a top hat and navy overcoat to be anything but a gentleman. Perhaps another neighboring peer visiting to admire the grounds?
The man turned to seemingly get a better view of the sculpture in front of him, revealing a strong-chinned profile and black hair that curled below the ear.
Danny gasped. The hair color was different and the ensemble more refined, but she was certain she recognized that mouth and chin from a dark memory that had plagued her every waking fantasy for the past three years.
The man was no gentleman at all, but a devil in a nice coat.
*
Percy did, infact, get lost. While admiring a rather unseemly statue of a man groping an angel’s leg, he hadn’t heard Mr. Brinkley move on. When he’d come to see the other man had disappeared, he’d shot off through the maze, taking several senseless turns before he’d realized he should have stayed put.
The nearby sound of water prevailed on him to take the next right turn and he found himself at what must have been the heart of the maze, three-tiered fountain front and center.
Overheated from his rush, he stepped up to the water’s edge and let the fountain’s spray cool him, admiring yet another ridiculous statue of three women twisted into such a knot, it looked as if their feet had fused into a long serpent tail. And the faces: Brows drawn, mouths open in silent screams. Were the women in the throes of passion or pain?
Click-click.
Percy froze. He could’ve gone the rest of his life without hearing the telltale sound of a gun cocking.
“Turn around,” a voice said. “Slowly.”
Percy did as commanded. Shielding his gaze from heaven’s glare, his eyes adjusted slowly, and the vision of an angel cleared. The lady from the Leishires’ ball.
He glanced around, certain a piece of the sculpture had fallen on his head, and he was hallucinating. Checking and finding his head free of bumps, he pinched the top of his hand to find only located pain. This was real.Shewas real.
The same dark curls framed her tanned cheeks. The same burning gaze stared through him, leaving a man to envision the wildest and naughtiest of fantasies. And the same frown, marring an otherwise perfect full set of lips. Lips he remembered tasted like forbidden fruit.
And she was training a Remington Model 1890 at his chest, hands rock steady, like a veteran revolveress’s.
Her hands weren’t the only things resembling a rock at the moment. Whatever reaction to the fresh air had addled his brain to conjure the image of Lady Daniella, stunning in yellow silk, holding a pistol like she knew how to use it, Percy would never leave the country again.
“Lady Daniella.” Even her name was a lesson in temptation. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s my line, sir.” She leveled the barrel higher, no doubt a sight between the eyes. “I let you get away last time, but I won’t forgive you if you mean any harm to this estate.”
Lethim get away? Looking at her face, remembering how her body was soft and responsive when against a hard chest—hishard chest—his body was strung as tight as it’d been the night at the ball. Despite all his best efforts, the truth was he’d never gotten away, not from thoughts of her. But unlike that night, there was no flirtation in her voice, no excitement. She sounded as if any actions he’d take in this place would be a personal assault on her person. Fellow Hall meant a great deal to her.
Percy’s stomach dropped out. He hadn’t heard anything about the previous duke marrying. Was she the Duchess of Grandfellow?
“You didn’t marry the duke, did you?”
She startled, dropping her arm. “Do you mean Jack?”
Jack? Percy’s insides revolted against the affection and familiarity in her voice. Good thing the man was dead, or he’dbe tempted to stretch his killing muscles and make the old duke bleed.
Her laughter cleared the red haze. “No,” she said. “Jack was a good family friend. I grew up coming here.” The humor in her gaze evaporated. “If you even think of using the man’s death to your advantage, I will drown you underAthena’s Justice.”
