"Be damned to you, then," she cried, trying to sound fearless and failing. Whoever was in the maze with her was far from harmless. He was evil.
Wasn't there a trick about mazes, that if you kept a hand on one wall the entire time you'd soon find your way out? Whoever was watching her was somewhere near the center of the maze, and if she kept going that way, she'd run into him. The very last thing she wanted to do. She had two choices, either the right way or the wrong way. She could only pray that she chose the right way.
Putting her hand out, she started moving, quickly, her feet stumbling a little bit over the ground as she moved.
And then she heard him behind her, the noise growing louder as he moved with her. Which meant she was heading in the right direction, she thought, almost sobbing with relief. If she'd been heading toward him he simply would have waited for her, like a spider.
She sped up, ignoring scratches from the greenery, ignoring the lingering pain in her ankle from her recent fall.
Faster, faster, her own breath catching in her throat, the stays digging into her, the branches catching on her flying domino. She was going to be murdered, someone would toss her body in the Thames—no one would ever find her, if she didn't move faster—
The entrance to the maze appeared before she realized where she was. She stumbled out onto the pathway, her breath sobbing in her throat, straight into the arms of a well-dressed gentleman, almost knocking him over.
He put out strong, gloved hands to right her. The night had grown darker, and thank God she still wore her mask.
Because the man who held her arms was none other than Adrian, Viscount Rohan.
16
"Dear lady," Rohan said in that well-remembered voice, "may I be of assistance?"
She pulled herself away from him> stumbling a little on her weak ankle, as a wash of feelings tumbled over her. Relief. He couldn't have been the one chasing her through the maze. Someone else had been the threat, real or imagined.
Relief that he didn't recognize her. She had only a moment to think—should she try a French accent, or the cockney one Meggie had been coaching her on? She could manage a Yorkshire accent from living up north with her family, but it all seemed a bit too complicated. Chances were he wouldn't recognize her voice, but a bit of hoarseness would ensure it.
"Someone was in the maze, following me," she said in a breathless, throaty voice.
He moved past her lo the entrance of the maze, pausing to listen. The silence was deafening. He turned and smiled at her, that charming smile that seldom reached into his fine eyes. For some reason it seemed to on this occasion, his hard blue eyes bright. Doubtless a trick of the lamplight.
"Whoever it was is gone now," he said. "But you should scarcely be out alone. Where is your escort?"
"My friend has gone in search of him," she said with all honesty. The problem with keeping her voice soft and husky is that it gave an unwanted intimacy to the conversation. "I decided rather than wait I would hire a hackney or a sedan chair to convey me home. "
"Then allow me to accompany you until you procure one. It would be terribly remiss of me to allow a beautiful lady to wander alone on these dark paths.
She had only a moment to consider the wonder of being called a "beautiful lady" before
she shook her head. "I thank you, sir, but I am more than capable of seeing to my own welfare. "
"To wit, you wandered into a maze alone and were nearly assaulted. A gentleman couldn't possibly abandon a lady under such circumstances. " His smile was so charming, so seemingly innocent, that she was both seduced and outraged. Outraged that his charm could be spread so easily to all and sundry, that he could fail to recognize her. Seduced because all the man had to do was look at her and her bones melted.
Had she learned nothing from her sojourn in the country, in his bed? It didn't matter how delicious he could make her feel. She was nothing more than a vessel for his lust, interchangeable, and the glorious, transcendent response he was able to coax from her wasn't worth the shame of his contemptuous treatment and dismissal.
And yet. . .
"'No," she said firmly. "No, thank you, my lord. You're very kind, but I cannot be convinced that your company would be any safer than that of the man in the maze. "
He laughed then. "You have every right to be careful. I'm capable of very bad behavior indeed. But I do stop short of pressing my attentions on women I don't know. I'm offering you safe escort, nothing more. "
She was more than ready to keep arguing, when in the distance she heard Lina's voice, hectoring Sir Percy. "I saw her come this way. . . "
"Is that your companion?" he questioned politely.
"No!" If he recognized Lina it would only be a moment before he recognized her. She had to think fast. "Indeed, I would appreciate your assistance. Let's go. "
Was there a trace of triumph on his mouth? She simply put her gloved hand on his arm and proceeded
His hand covered hers. "Wrong direction. ” Bloody hell, she thought, certain he was about to turn her in the direction of Lina's voice, but instead he simply pulled her onto one of the side paths, into the darkness, moments before Lina and Sir Percy arrived on the scene.