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“We are unlikely to run into anyone on this part of the grounds,” he says, “but there’s a chance we might run into some unsavoury people. You need an escort, and I appear to be the only available knight.”
Chivalric to the core, our Charlie is from a different day and age.
“If anyone sees us…”
“It’s unlikely. Trust me.”
And I do, even if his honour irks me. I was safe on my own. Even managed to get free from an awful trap. If we are found, it will be up to me to get out of this new mess.
Hating myself, I wrap my arm around his.
“When did you learn about my little private bolt?” he asked.
I chuckle, slanting him a look.
“We always knew about it,” I lie, “but didn’t dare dent your accomplishment.”
“You didn’t! If you knew the path better, you wouldn’t have a made such a hash of your escape.”
I sniff.
“It’s been an age, and it’s dark in there.” Darker than I’d anticipated.
“Did the gardener give up my secret? Low of him. I’ll have to have a word.”
“Never. They're fiercely loyal to you,” I promise. “We didn’t need them, anyway. CeCe’s windows look out on the maze.”
“I checked, you can’t see it from there.”
Charlie is thorough.
“We had our ways.”
That makes him smile. He enjoys success — anyone’s success.
Keeping to the shadowed wood beyond the maze, he angles us toward cook’s vegetable garden, enclosed by trellises, fences, and gates. Once inside, I relax. No one, but no one, would come in here at night. We make our way through rows of freshly turned earth. Plantings are late this year, the flower beds more muddy soup than tillable dirt. My slippers will be ruined.
Fortunately, I have a trunk full of slippers. My dress, too, will easily mend with no one the wiser. If I can get to my room without being seen.
The only vulnerable spot would be stepping out of the vegetable garden. It opens to the side path, a few steps to the back of the house. I can easily make my way unnoticed from there — a skill learned in my mischievous past. Charlie can attend whatever business brought him out here in the first place.
“Wait.”
He stops me from ducking under the trellis and out into the open.
“Surely no one will be…”
He puts his finger to his mouth. I seal my lips, turning my fingers in front of them as if using a key. He is no more than a silhouette, but I feel his keen attention, know his brow is knit, his head tilted.
“No one will be out here,” I whisper.
Hushed by the shake of his head, I stand feeling awkward and foolish, holding my bodice in place.
His warm lips press so close to my ear, I shiver and pull away. He scowls then leans over again, voice a husky whisper.
“We may have trespassers tonight,” he warns. “They could be dangerous.”
A brave thief, or possibly thieves, has been robbing great houses during Balls. Clever of them — easy to slip in, taking advantage of the chaos and out-of-town guests who arrive with servants the household staff don’t quite know. Still, I am too wrought over the tingling of his breath on my ear to respond.
