Page 26 of Only Pleasure Will Do

“She is just along the path there. Not a moment’s walk. Here,” she reached for the valise, “I’ll take your satchel and you can—”

“No!” Amorina snatched the bag away from the housekeeper so quickly she produced a slight breeze. “I mean, that won’t be necessary, Mrs. Barton. This is a…present for Lady Dalbury. A little token of felicitations on the birth of her son.”

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course. I beg your pardon, Madam Vestry.” A slight frown marred the good woman’s countenance. She’d remember that reaction…afterward. One of the many strands that would be woven into a noose to set around Amorina’s neck.

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Barton. It’s just that the piece is very delicate. I’ve been fearful of it ever since I began my journey here.” That was nothing but the truth.

“I understand, Madam Vestry.” The woman’s smile had returned. “Would you like a footman to show you the way?”

“That won’t be necessary. Just through here, you said?” Amorina pointed to the path, her heart thudding dully.

“Yes, down this path then turn at the Cupid. You shouldn’t miss it.” Mrs. Barton nodded pleasantly, waiting for Amorina to move.

She had to do this. For Pearl.

With another nod of thanks, Amorina strode down the steps, across the small patch of grass to the walkway, and into the little garden where wilderness warred with order. The pathway lay smooth, curving to the right then meandering off to the left again. The edges of the path were bordered with shrubberies partitioning the garden into specific parcels of land that unaccountably ran wild within their delineated walls. In spring and summer, there would be an ocean of color blooming riotously without a care for form and order. Did this garden illustrate the marriage of Katarina Fitzwilliam and Lord Dalbury in horticulture? Lady Katarina had been a spitfire from the moment Amorina had met her, while Duncan, although wild enough in his appetites, had always been a stickler for correct behavior in Polite Society. Amorina shook her head to dislodge the irrelevant thoughts she’d allowed to distract her. She must concentrate on her task if she hoped to be alive when this exquisite garden bloomed again.

Following the path, steps coming slower and slower, Amorina tried to lick her lips and wet her mouth, but her tongue was bone dry. She came to the statue of Cupid, his quiver of arrows draped leisurely over one shoulder, an arrow nocked in his bow resting carelessly on its side. That Cupid’s face bore more than a little resemblance to Lord Dalbury did not surprise Amorina if Lady Dalbury had had any say in the sculpture’s commission. From all reports, her marriage to Duncan had turned into a truly passionate love match. She touched the statue’s cold stone foot and hurried past and to the right before her courage failed her completely.

In too short a time, she sighted the splashing fountain, a stone bench before it on which sat a young woman. Sunlight glinted off her copper hair, making it seem alive with a brightly burning fire, the long tresses falling across her shoulders, just matching the flowers on her green gown. Beside her stood a wicker baby carriage, on her lap a swaddled bundle. A low-pitched murmur issued from the seat as Lady Dalbury spoke or sang softly to her child.

Amorina’s feet seemed to have acquired lead weights. Each reluctant step made her wish herself far away from this idyllic place, but she kept going. For Pearl.

One step broke a twig that had fallen on the pathway. At the sound, Lady Dalbury paused and looked around, her gaze finally coming to rest on Amorina. The lady’s eyes widened.

She gathered the child closer to her and stood, a genuine smile on her lips. “Madam Vestry. What an unexpected pleasure.” Lady Dalbury’s warm, friendly voice smote Amorina’s heart as if the lady had wielded a sword. Her frank blue eyes stared deep into Amorina’s. “How may I help you?”