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Releasing him, she leaned against a stone planter to catch her breath, glad now that her corset was not as tight as she’d originally wanted. She smiled at the irony and saw Withington edge away from her, a wary look in his eyes.
“Oh, stop it. I won’t eat you,” she told him with a laugh as she whisked back an errant curl. “I simply wished to speak with you where we would not be disturbed.”
He stared at her in plain disbelief. “Yes, well. This is certainly not the place I would have chosen!” He raked a hand through his disheveled hair. “Cavendish entrusted me with your care in his absence, and running about in the gardens in the dark gives every appearance of my violating that trust in the worst possible manner!”
“I understand and, truly, I am so very sorry to cause you distress,” she apologized, hoping to heaven she hadn’t just ruined everything. “I would not put you in such a position were it not absolutely necessary—I need your help.”
He blinked in surprise. “My help? What sort of help requires this?”
She started to come toward him, but stopped when he moved back. “It’s my sister, Amelia,” she blurted. “She cannot stand the idea of me—” No, that won’t work. A softer approach was needed here. “She is so overly protective of me, you see. If she discovers Lord Cavendish’s interest in me, she will try to prevent him from seeing me. She will drive him away!”
Withington sagged against the bushes. “Oh, thank the Lord! I thought you were trying to cause Cavendish to become jealous.” He peered at her suspiciously. “You seem awfully confident in his interest.”
She cast her gaze downward as though embarrassed. “I know we only just met tonight, but already I know that I—I wish to know him better. And I am fairly certain that he feels likewise, but Amelia will never allow it. I wouldn’t ask you to inconvenience yourself on my behalf, but just now, it became quite clear that she has mistaken your attentiveness for, well…” She gave him her best “pretty please” face. “If you could distract her for me, just for a little while.”
Comprehension dawned in his eyes. “I see.” He crossed his arms. “Not to be impolite, my lady, but I must question your motives. I have known Cavendish all my life and practically consider him a brother. How am I to know your liking for him is genuine? Your little act back there with your father was impressive, to say the least.”
Hoist by my own bloody petard, thought Victoria. She needed his help and had to gain his trust, and that required honesty on her part—up to a point. She did want Cavendish to become enamored of her, after all. “Amelia and I do not always see eye to eye,” she confessed. “In fact, most of the time, we are at odds. I apologize for my earlier behavior. She tends to bring out the worst in me.”
“Don’t all sisters?” he said with a grin. “Mine certainly bring out the very devil in me. I’m cursed with four of them. Sisters, not devils. Though I don’t see much difference, in truth.”
Relieved, she warmed to her task. “She guards me like a dragon in a fairy tale!” she groused. “She dragged me over to our father just now to tattle on me for removing my fichu. I only wanted to look like something other than a nun, for once.”
“My older sister did the same thing to our younger sisters,” he reasoned, laughing a little. “She is simply looking out for your good name and protecting you—from the likes of dastardly me, apparently.”
“You don’t understand,” she replied, desperate. “Amelia has deliberately driven away every gentleman who has ever shown interest in me. I like Lord Cavendish a great deal, and I cannot bear the thought of her doing so to him.”
Her own vehemence surprised her. She did like him. As a potential brother-in-law, she told herself sternly. She bowed her head, hoping she looked pitiful enough to elicit his sympathy. “Won’t you please help me?”
Withington looked at her for a long moment, long enough to make her squirm just a little, and then he again laughed. “Why not? For the sake of star-crossed love, I shall brave the wrath of your dragonish sister. I only hope Julius appreciates my sacrifice.”
Yes! “Oh, but please don’t ever speak of this to Lord Cavendish or anyone else,” she begged. “I should be humiliated beyond words.”
“I promise not to breathe a word.” He looked about nervously. “But, erm, shouldn’t we return before your fire-breathing sister misses you and comes looking for you?”
“Yes, of course.” Victoria winced. It would probably be wise to make Amelia sound a bit more attractive. “Amelia really isn’t as terrible as I’ve made her out to be,” she said sheepishly. “She can be really sweet.” When she wants to be, which is, unfortunately, not very often, she thought sourly. “Papa says she inherited our mother’s kind and gentle spirit.”
“Of course,” he said with a wry look. “She seemed very kind and gentle to me—for a dragon.”
Damn.
They made it safely out of the boxwood maze without encountering any of its other denizens, though they did hear the occasional groan or quickly stifled outburst of laughter from the other side of the hedge. Withington quickly pulled her away from the sources of those noises.
Once free, the pair ran back across the green, giggling like little children all the way.
“Thank God no one saw us,” puffed Withington as they climbed the stairs to the terrace.
“Thank God I didn’t wear the smaller gown tonight,” Victoria gasped, holding her side and laughing. “Had I done so, I’d never have made it across that expanse without fainting. And then we would have been in trouble.”
Withington shook with laughter. “You are quite the surprise, Lady Victoria. I can’t help but wonder what mischief you’ll get up to next.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, my lord,” she replied, belying her prim words with a grin.
Her heart was light as they rejoined the soiree, but her good spirits s
oured as she spied her sister approaching. She elbowed Withington. “Brace yourself,” she muttered.
He looked in the direction of her chin-jerk and smothered a laugh.
