Page 61 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

She glanced behind her, already guessing who she would find.

Christian stood behind her, his face smooth and impassive. His hands hung loosely at his sides. For the first time, she noticed how large they were, strong and square, more impressive than a gentleman’s hands ought to be. Almost at once, she remembered how his fingertips had felt sliding along the curve of her cheek, and color rushed to her face.

“Mr. Pembroke, Lady Thalia,” he murmured evenly. “What a fine dance. You’re excellent dancers.”

She couldn’t help lifting an eyebrow. “Really?”

He met her gaze, a tight smile crossing his face. “Really.”

“Right,” Mr. Pembroke muttered, turning away. “There are plenty of ladies who’d like to dance with me and won’t embarrass me by missing steps.” He stamped off.

Thalia watched him go with undisguised relief. That left her free to turn back to Christian.

“We haven’t much time,” he warned, staring at Mr. Pembroke’s retreating back. “Your esteemed brother will be hurrying to collect you.”

“I imagine so.”

He looked back at her. “We need to talk. Slip away, if you can, and meet me in the conservatory. Can you do that?”

She swallowed hard and nodded, not sure if she could manage words.

“Good,” he said brusquely, then slipped away, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, Thalia stood there, heart hammering.

It’s only about Laura. It’s not a… not an assignation.

She had no reason to feel guilty. Of course, it would look very bad if anybody saw her. That was why she had to be careful.

A movement in the crowd caught her eye, and she saw the top of Jonathan’s head bobbing towards her.

Now or never.

She turned tail, plunging into the throng around the dance floor. With couples stepping on and off the floor, it was easy enough to hide herself from view.

The conservatory. The conservatory.

She followed a path, gravel crunching under her feet, until the lights set beside the pathway faded, leaving her in darkness. The moon shone down, providing a little light but not quite enough. She stepped carefully, squinting into the gloom. Eventually, she saw it. A glass conservatory stood amongst the trees, a single candle flickering inside it.

She set off towards it.

The path led her there, thankfully. She would not have enjoyed stumbling through the greenery, perhaps snagging or tearing her dress or even trampling Lady Pembroke’s prize roses. She reached the door and let herself in. The hinges did not even squeak.

The conservatory was neat and well-maintained but did not seem to be regularly used. The plants thrived, but a film of dust covered the floor. There were seats, three of them, arranged around a low table with a cobweb strung between the three. The candle she’d seen burning sat on that table. Other bits of furniture were arranged here and there between the greenery.

Thalia was not passionate about plants, and she could not identify them, but whichever gardener was tasked with keeping the plants in the conservatory alive was doing a fine job.

“Hello?” she called out nervously. “C-Christian? I’m here.”

There was no response.

Swallowing, she closed the door behind her and set off to investigate. There was a narrow walkway that led up and down the space as far as she could see, fringed with thick green leaves.

She turned left, passing by towering plants that brushed the glass ceiling. Strange fruits grew, a few that she recognized. Some plants had stems as thick as tree trunks and pots larger than a man was tall.

I feel like a mouse creeping through a vegetable patch.

The path ended in a round little courtyard with more chairs and a deep, padded window seat overlooking what would probably be a fine view of the lawn in the daylight.