To his relief, Arabella walked away from the gentleman. He waited for her to come in his direction but to his surprise, she veered away to the right and disappeared out of the French doors at the rear of the ballroom. Unchaperoned as she was, he knew he ought to stay away, but he could not help himself.
“My apologies, Lady Olivia. I am in need of refreshment.” He bowed to her and tried to leave, but she tugged lightly on his elbow.
“Might you fetch me some champagne?”
He smiled tightly. “Of course.”
He had no intention of doing so, but she did not need to know that.
Hurrying, he cut down through the crowded hallway on his right, reasoning that there must be another exit. He was wise enough to know that it would raise some eyebrows if he directly followed Arabella into the gardens but if he justhappenedto bump into her, what could anyone say?
He raced down a smaller passageway, devoid of guests, and knew he must be on the right path. However, as he chose a door and burst through it, he found himself simmering beneath the horrified stares of the kitchen. He skidded to a halt, almost toppling over on the slippery floor.
“Excuse me.” He dipped his head to the full complement of staff. “Might you direct me toward the gardens? The quickest path, if you do not mind.”
A robust woman, most likely the head cook, gestured to a door behind her. “That’ll take you out to the kitchen garden. Cut through it, go out the gate, and walk a ways to your right and you’ll find your gardens.”
“Thank you.” Mortified, Henry skirted around a vast workbench and had to slip through a cluster of startled maids and footmen before he reached the door.
He drew in a deep breath as he stepped out into the kitchen garden, hit by the familiar scent of rosemary, thyme, wild garlic, and sage. Allowing his skin to cool for a moment, in the warm night breeze, he dove back into a sprint and hared along the winding, stone path that led to the gate.
Before long, he was inthe gardens, though the sparse terrace and meagre shrubs did not deserve the title. A short distance away, sitting on a stone bench in front of a dribbling fountain, he found her.
“You will have mouths flapping all over England, you daring rogue,” he said, approaching with caution. He did not want to scare her.
Nevertheless, she whirled around in fright, her hand flying to her chest. “Mercy, Henry! You gave me a fright!”
“Apologies. I was trying not to.” He made his way around to the front of the bench and thinking it unwise to sit beside her, he perched on the narrow lip that surrounded the fountain pool.
Folding his hands in his lap, aware he was sitting like a grown man in a child-sized chair, he waited for her to say something. At his back, the fountain gurgled as if to say,“She probably does not wish to speak with you. If she did, she would have sent a letter.”
“What are you doing out here?” He needed to break the silence. It had gone on too long.
She smiled sadly. “I desired some fresh air.”
“Without a chaperone?”
“My first chaperone decided I was too ugly to be seen with. My second chaperone has been captured by the enchantments of the refreshment table.” She lifted her head. “Have you tired of Olivia already? Most gentlemen find her charming, so it is no wonder you were captivated, however briefly.”
The cold note in her voice perplexed him, as did the smile she wore, which did not reach her eyes. He almost felt like he was about to be scolded.
“Your brother suggested—”
“It might be beneficial for you to garner some insight into my only friend. Yes, he told me,” she interrupted, her brow furrowing like she was in pain.
Henry leaned forward. “Has someone upset you?”
He had meant to say, “HaveIupset you?” but it came out wrong.
“I have no reason to be upset,” she replied stiffly. “We are doing what we set out to do, are we not? All I ask is that you do not seek courtship with my friend. My only friend, as you have already been informed. I cannot afford to lose one.”
Henry’s mouth fell open. “I did not want to dance with her, Arabella. Truly, I did not.” He paused. “I looked for you, but I could not find you. Indeed, I thought you might not be coming.”
“So, you saw an opportunity?”
“Arabella, I have explained myself. Lady Olivia is… not to my taste. I rather like to have my ears as they are, not bleeding.” He tilted his head to try and see her expression, for the shadows of a paltry hawthorn were dancing upon her face, making it harder for him to observe her properly.
Arabella’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
