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Montague’s whisper slips through the greenery.
“Where are you, minx?”
He doesn’t dare raise his voice, announcing that we are both in the maze, especially as I’ve gotten away from him.
A twig snaps. He is nearly around the bend. My hands tremble, rustling the branches as I feel my way, nearly fainting with relief at the break in the hedge. The vee is still nicely trimmed so I can slip inside the thick evergreen wall, to the apex.
I can’t move further.
The top of my dress is pulled ridiculously tight. The culprit is a ribbon laced through the embroidered eyelets of my bodice. One end is snagged on the bushes, the other fighting for freedom. It’s too dangerous to retrace my steps.
With a tight hold on the end still laced into the dress, I yank, diving for escape. The ribbon slips my grasp, unravelling so quickly, the bodice becomes no more than a puddle of fabric. I try to hold it up as I stumble out of the hedge, colliding with a warm body. We topple, me struggling to keep from losing my gown, him rolling to take the brunt of the fall.
“Blast and bugger!” I curse, in tears. Who else can it be but Montague?
“Kat?” The voice stalls any attempt to wiggle free. It’s Charlie. Positively befuddled, but Charlie. I am saved. Despite my unexpected appearance, he manages to tease, “Such language.”
Charlie would never censure me, no matter how stuffy he’s become, but this isn’t the time for playfulness.
I ruthlessly shove my initial relief aside. No one will protect me as Charlie will. Which is the problem. This is my folly — my repercussions. If we are caught, he’ll be stuck with me for life. He’s supposed to marry Lady Perfect.
“You must go!”
Yes, I hate the idea of him marrying, but I also want him to be happy. Lady Clarissa is flawless.
If we’re caught together, he will ‘do the right thing’. An unhappier foundation for marriage does not exist.
Steady as a rock, he rises, helps me up, and flicks at the drooping sleeve of my gown as if the bodice isn’t beyond redemption.
“Leave? Now? What sort of gallant would I be?”
He’s a good head taller, so I have to tilt my head back to see him, which mutes the defiant rise of my chin when I claim, “I am perfectly capable of taking care of matters.”
“Obviously.”
He frowns but doesn’t move until he catches my glimpse at the bolt-hole. I can’t help it. I’m terrified Montague will step through, a limp trail of ribbon leading straight to me.
Charlie leaves me shivering, from cold or fear I can’t quite tell, and steps into the vee.
Please don’t find Montague.
He returns alone with a bedraggled length of ribbon in his hand.
“Snagged when I stepped through,” I admit.
“You went into the maze?” His eyebrows rise. “In a hurry?”
I nod. He sighs. My heart sinks. He doesn’t want to be here, saving me, but he is far too chivalric to know that.
“Please, Bentwood, go.”
Tears intimidate him. They aren’t my normal defence, but they come readily enough. I do not want him caught with me.
“Can I mend it, or do we need to sneak you inside?”
He’s here for the duration. There’s nothing I can do. Giving up, I tug him into the deeper shadow of the woods that border this side of the maze.
“Just give it to me.”
