Darling Beast (Maiden Lane #7)(73)

She beamed at him. “That would be lovely.”

Lily followed the strapping footman down the staircase, never looking back, and now that she was no longer running with her heart beating in her ears, she could hear the music playing.

He bowed at the entrance of the ballroom and she gave him a quick grin in thanks before entering.

The room was lit with dozens of beeswax candles. They, together with the vases of hothouse roses placed around the room, perfumed the air with a sweet stink that was nearly unbearable. It was terribly hot and she wished she had a fan. A glance around showed that Mr. Greaves must have invited quite a few of his neighbors as well as the house party guests, for the ballroom was crowded. She’d hardly taken a step before Mr. Warner appeared before her, asking for a dance.

She was put out—she’d hoped to find Apollo—but she made sure not to let that show on her face. This was part of her job, after all, to entertain the guests.

So she danced a country dance with Mr. Warner, and then another with Mr. MacLeish. By that time she had caught a glimpse of Richard, glowering by the ballroom doors, and decided to head in the opposite direction—toward the wall of French doors that led out to the garden. She was glancing over her shoulder to make sure Richard wasn’t following her when she felt a hand on her wrist.

She was hauled rather unceremoniously onto the slate steps that ran along the back of the house and led into the darkened garden itself.

Lily squeaked and looked up.

Into Apollo’s shadowed face.

“Oh” was, unfortunately, all she could think of to say.

“You look frightened,” he murmured. “Why?”

She smoothed her skirts. “You did just yank me out of the ballroom. Practically a kidnap.”

In the light from the ballroom she thought she saw his lips twitch. “If I’d wanted to kidnap you, I’d’ve thrown you over my shoulder.”

She drew herself up. “What makes you think I’d let you?”

He moved his fingers to her hand and clasped it. “Oh, you would.”

“You’re quite sure of yourself.” She sniffed.

“Mmm.” He pulled gently, leading her down the steps. “I liked your play.”

“Oh.” She could feel herself blushing like a green girl. “Thank you.”

She caught the flash of his teeth as he grinned back at her.

Although the French doors had been open, the party wasn’t meant to spill into the garden, so there were no lanterns. There was a moment beyond the light coming from the windows of the house, in the dark of the garden itself, when she felt quite blind.

“Where are we going?”

“I discovered something this afternoon.” His voice floated back to her on the night breeze. “I wanted to show you.”

It was rather cool and if she hadn’t just been running and then dancing, it might’ve been too cold, but as it was, the night chill was rather nice on her overheated skin.

“Careful,” he whispered as her slippered feet trod on grass. “We’ve left the pavement behind.”

She closed her eyes a moment and when she opened them again, she looked up. “Oh, the stars.”

She could see him now—or at least his silhouette.

He tilted his head back. “They’re rather nice tonight.”

They walked in silence for a bit, the music wafting behind them, and then a sort of wall seemed to loom ahead.

“What is it?” she asked.

He paused for a moment and she knew—she wasn’t sure how, but she knew—he was smiling. “A maze.”

PERHAPS APOLLO WAS mad to bring a girl to see a maze at night, but somehow it’d seemed exactly the right thing to do.

“Come on,” he said to her, pulling her hand.

Lily followed easily enough, but her voice was uncertain as they made the first turn. “We’ll get lost.”

“No,” he said easily. “I found it this afternoon and explored it then. It’s simple enough.”

“Even in the dark.”

“Even in the dark,” he assured her. “But it’s not quite dark, is it?” He pointed up at the stars and the crescent moon.

“Humph.” She didn’t sound entirely reassured, but she followed him nonetheless, and that made him glad.

The maze was an old one with a fully matured hedge over eight feet tall. In places the hedge threatened to grow into the path and he had to lead her single file, but she never protested. He could hear the rustle of her skirts, the sound of her breathing right behind him, and once in a while her scent came to him, orange and clove, tantalizing and sweet.

He tightened his grip on her hand.

By the time he turned the final corner he was heavy and hard.

“Where are we?” she whispered, as if she knew the import of this place. Of where he’d brought her and why.

Before them was a shallow stone pool, rimmed with stone benches, a statue standing at the center. It had probably once been a fountain, but time and neglect had stopped it running, and now it was dry save for a few rotting leaves blown against the edges.

“We’re at the heart,” he replied, his throat thick.

She tugged his hand as she stepped closer to the stone pool. She stared at the statue and then back at him. “The heart of the maze?”