Thomas stared at her. “A labyrinth. Like a maze?”
Rose pointed at a tall, curving hedge rising up in the center. “Not exactly. Most mazes I know are huge, wild, and confusing. They are meant to befuddle. A labyrinth of this type tends to be more orderly and with a purpose. When it was first put in—several earls ago—the hedges were kept knee-height, the paths clear and well directed but narrow. It was intended as a place of meditation, focus. Now the hedges are more than eight feet high but the paths are wider. My father uses it as a place for solitude, to gather his thoughts, to pray.”
“Pray?”
She looked back at him again. “You wouldn’t know it, would you? My father prays a lot.” She grinned. “But I suppose being married to Lady Dorothea would make anyone a praying man.”
Thomas smiled but shook his head. “You and your mother do not have the easiest relationship.”
“Cecily refers to it as ‘starched.’”
“That sounds about right.”
Rose paused at an opening in the hedge. “We go in here. It can feel a little intimidating at first, but you’ll get used to it.” She stepped through the gap and motioned for him to follow. A few feet within, she took the first turn to the right and paused. “I love how it shuts out the sounds. Even the birds aren’t as loud.”
After two more turns, Thomas muttered, looked up at the towering, formidable hedges, “Will we find our way out?”
Rose grinned and tugged on his arm. “That’s the great thing about it. You can’t get lost. There are no dead ends or switchbacks. There are several paths, but they all lead into the center. Then out again.” She slipped her hand down to his and gripped his fingers. “This way.”
After one more turn, they emerged into the center of the labyrinth, and Rose heard Thomas’s breath falter. She knew just how he felt. She adored this place of solace and solitude. The core of the labyrinth was a circle about twenty feet across. Smooth stone paths, edged with primroses and narcissus, led from each of four entrances toward three concentric rings in the middle. A smooth grass lawn stretched between the paths, ending at the outermost ring of the same inlaid stone. Inside that was a ring of sand and tiny pebbles that had been raked into precise lines. The inner ring held a blue, green, and white tile mosaic of crashing waves upon the sea. Atop the mosaic, a long stone bench had been placed, its design more like a comfortable sofa than a park bench.
“This is remarkable.”
Thomas stood so close behind Rose she could feel the heat of his body, smell the lingering mint and sandalwood scent she knew so well.
And she knew it was time. Time to become his.
“When we were children, we would come here to share our secrets because no one could hear. Just as sound doesn’t make its way in, it doesn’t escape either. Not even the servants could hear.” She turned to him, focused on his eyes, the arch of his dark brows, the fine lines beginning to burrow into his forehead. “What did you want to ask me?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, then pushed back his shoulders as he looked down at her. “The night of the soiree—”
Of course.“A lifetime ago.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “What did I say to you that made you think I wanted you for a mistress?”
Rose had known this moment would come, from the instant her father had handed her the offer of marriage. The way they had both misunderstood... “I didn’t expect you to come to my office that night.”
“Of course not.”
“But when you did, I think I finally accepted exactly how much I wanted you.”
“Rose—”
She put a finger on his lips. “I thought I knew, but I did not. I have tried hard to convince myself any feelings on my part were useless. There are a whole bevy of beautiful young debutantes for you to choose from. All of whom could give you a houseful of heirs and none of whom are too old, too big, and too plain.”
Thomas scowled, the lines in his forehead and around his mouth deepening. He closed his hand around hers and kissed the finger that had shushed him. “Rose—”
“But when you came into my office, with an obvious objective, I became overwhelmed. Everything I felt for you boiled over. I wanted you more than anyone I have ever wanted in my life. And then you kissed me.” Rose squeezed her eyes shut both from the memory and to try to keep the tears from welling up. “You wanted me.”
“I did.” His voice held a tight huskiness that resonated deep in Rose’s chest. “I do.”
“And I would have given myself to you.”
“But I did not want—at least not like that.”
“So you stopped.” Rose opened her eyes, no longer fighting the tears. “I had opened myself to you. And you stopped. Because you didn’t wantmeafter all.”
Thomas gripped her arms. “I did. Desperately. But not like that. Not in a stolen moment on your desk. Rose, do you have any idea how remarkable you are? How beautiful? I know you have never been with a man, and I wanted your first time to be as extraordinary as you are.” His grip tightened as he shook her arms. “And I do not know who has been insisting that you are old and unattractive, but they should be horsewhipped.”
