“Each year’s May Queen is the most successful match of the year before.She picks her seven favorites on the first day of the new festival, in honor of the seven days of celebrations.The young ladies become the most sought-after all week, and start the first set of dancing every night.”She gave her daughter a longing look.“There’s still hope for you.”
“I’d rather die,” the girl said flatly.
Her mother sighed.“She’d rather write poetry.”
“Which isworsethan dying, if you’ve ever read any of it,” said the boy.
“Oh!We’re here!”The mother clapped her hands.“Forgive me, gentlemen.We’re off, we’re off!”
She speared her way through the surging crowd, ushering her children to the front of the pack.A huge golden gate swung open, and the people spilled through like water breaking free of a dam.
Donovan and Geoffrey had no choice but to continue forward—or be trampled beneath a thousand eager feet.
Through the gate, the gardens stretched out to either side and back, endless patterns of colorful flowers in intricate geometric shapes, with clever walking paths twisting around and between each display.
At the center stood the tallest hedgerow Donovan had ever seen.Each pathway was no wider than the wingspan of his arms.He stared in wonder at the vast green labyrinth it contained.The only way to discern more would be to investigate firsthand.
None of the other guests seemed remotely interested in the labyrinth, however.The tide of spectators flowed up to a tall wooden dais.Upon this grand stage were two flower-laden brass thrones and seven equally florid wrought-iron chairs.A young man and young woman linked arms at the edge of the platform, waving energetically at the crowd with their free hands.
“Our future May King and Queen, I take it,” murmured the duke.
“Perhaps even the future King and Queen of England,” Geoffrey answered, wide-eyed with faux innocence.“I’d vote for them.”
The duke sniffed.“That’s not how it works, you heretic.”
“You’re just vexed I didn’t say I’d vote foryou.”
“I wouldn’t want to be king,” Donovan said with feeling.“I don’t even want to be duke.”
“Nowwho’s the heretic?”Geoffrey said wryly.
“Wait.Do you know what I really am?”the duke said slowly as he glanced around the sea of faces with wonder.
“Tell me.”
“Anonymous.”
It felt impossible.In the House of Lords, and at his mother’s parties, and everywhere in London, hundreds of pairs of eyes were trained endlessly on Donovan.Would he speak?Would he dance?Would he finally choose a bride?
Here, he was surrounded by severalthousandpeople… and not one of them made a single glance in Donovan’s direction.They had no idea he was a duke.They didn’t care about him at all.
Oh, certainly this good fortune would change if he were foolish enough to announce that he was a bachelor in possession of a title and on the hunt for a wife.But the merrymakers could not intuit this unhappy circumstance merely by looking at him.He was in no danger of being looked at, at all.
A woman walked on stage bearing a crown of roses in each hand.A roar of approval rose up from the crowd as they surged forward.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”whispered the duke.
“Raspberry ices are indeed superior to lemon ices?”guessed his valet.
Donovan grabbed Geoffrey by the elbow and did his best to tow him against the current.“This is the perfect time to enter the labyrinth.Once all these people are inside it, the labyrinth will either become too clogged to explore, or too easy to navigate because they all know the way.”
“I don’t know,” Geoffrey said doubtfully.“A labyrinth a hundred times bigger than Vauxhall Gardens doesn’t sound easy to navigate under any circumstances.”
“Reluctant to be stranded alone with me in some forgotten corner of an idyllic, secluded garden?”
This time, it was Geoffrey who grabbed Donovan’s arm and dragged him forward.“Good point.”
They burst free from the crowd a few yards from the break in the hedgerow.No one followed them, whether on foot or with their eyes.The ceremony on stage captured the attention of all.
