Blade had spotted Kitty chatting animatedly with her friends on the perimeter of the dance floor, so he knew Hazel must be at the ball … but he’d yet to see her.
Maybe she was avoiding him—and he couldn’t say he blamed her.
“Good to see you, Bladenton.” Dunmire slapped him on the back as if they were lifelong chums, which they most definitely were not. The viscount raised his brandy glass in a mock salute. “The countess certainly knows how to host an event, doesn’t she? This would be a mad crush even by London’s standards.”
“True.” Blade took a gulp of his own drink and let his gaze sweep across the ballroom.
“Plenty of beauties to choose from tonight,” Dunmire quipped. “Almost an embarrassment of riches. Look at the pink dress over there.” He thrust his chin in Poppy’s direction. “It’s the girl who won the regatta if I’m not mistaken. Certainly cleaned up nicely. I wouldn’t mind luring her into Lady Rufflebum’s silver closet.”
Blade clenched his jaw and faced the viscount. “Stay away from her.”
Dunmire raised a palm as if he couldn’t quite believe he was under attack. “Didn’t realize you were interested in her, old chap. I assumed your tastes ran more toward Lady Penelope’s type. Any man would be lucky to have her warming his bed.”
Blade glared at him. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”
“Suit yourself.” Dunmire shrugged and backed away slowly. “I’ll leave you to your brooding.”
Bastard. Blade suspected Poppy was capable of taking care of herself but decided the least he could do was warn her. Only she seemed to have disappeared, too.
“There you are, Uncle Beck!” Kitty kissed him on the cheek then did a little twirl. “How do you like my gown?”
She made him chuckle in spite of his foul mood. “It’s lovely.”
“You’re looking rather dashing yourself,” she said.
He scrubbed the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he began.
She blinked at him, expectant. “Yes?”
“I’m going to be…”—damn it, but this was hard—“making some changes soon. You’re bound to be affected, too, but I want you to know that I won’t allow anything to come between you and me. You have my word.”
For the space of several breaths, she stared at him, her expression impassive, and he wondered if she’d heard him over the din of the party. But then she reached out and squeezed his hand tightly. “I won’t allow anything to come between us, either. You have my word.”
“Good.” He cleared the knot from his throat and managed a smile. “Now, shouldn’t you be dancing? Or cavorting with your friends?”
“Do you truly think that I’m so one-dimensional, Uncle?” Kitty looked mildly wounded. “That I’m completely preoccupied with gowns and gossip?”
“What?” Blade felt as though he’d blundered into a fox trap. “Of course not.”
She linked her arm through his and pulled him toward the French doors. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
She guided him across the deserted terrace and beyond, into the garden. “Where are we going?”
“To view my latest source of inspiration.”
“Inspiration for what?” he asked warily.
“A new design project. After much debate, I’ve concluded that what Bladenton Manor requires is—” She paused for dramatic effect. “—a greenhouse.” She gazed up at him, hopeful. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
No, he would not. Bladenton Manor needed a greenhouse about as much as it needed a moat, but since the fox trap was still top of mind, he nodded. “Absolutely. I’m always curious to hear what you’re planning.”
“It’s just down this path … there. Have a look at the roofline. The entire structure is simple and clean, very utilitarian. But I was thinking that we’d create something special for Bladenton Manor. Instead of a predictable rectangular structure, I should like to try an octagonal design. Imagine a brick foundation topped with beautiful mullioned arched windows and a roof so clear you could almost reach up and touch the stars.”
“Mmm,” he murmured.
“Are you listening, Uncle Beck?”
“Yes, of course.”
She paused at the greenhouse’s doorstep and pursed her lips, clearly skeptical. “Let’s go in.”
“It’s too dark to properly see anything. Besides, I don’t think we should be snooping around Lady Rufflebum’s grounds.”
“The countess told me I could explore the greenhouse any time I liked,” Kitty assured him. “There must be a lamp inside.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. He pulled open the door, and the scents of earth, lime, and lilacs filled his head. “I’ll see if I can find a lamp. Stay here so you don’t bump into something and ruin your gown.”
He wandered inside the structure, pausing to admire the view of the crescent moon through the glass ceiling before stepping farther into the foliage.
“I think I see a table to the right,” Kitty called out from the doorway, just as Blade collided with it, bumping his thigh on the sharp corner.
“Found it,” he replied dryly. He ran his hands over wooden surface and discovered what felt like a bucket of gardening tools and a half-full watering can.
“Any luck?” called Kitty.
“Not yet.”
“Maybe the table just past that one.”
He shuffled farther into the greenhouse, blindly swatting palm fronds away from his face.
Bam. The glass door to the greenhouse slammed shut, raising the hairs on the backs of his arms. He spun around. “Kitty?”
“I’m out here.” Her muffled voice came from the other side of the glass, and he reached the door in five large strides. She frowned as she fiddled with the handle outside.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to open the door.” She rolled her eyes, as if the answer should have been obvious. “The breeze caught it, and now … well, it appears to be stuck.”
“Back up,” he instructed. “I’ll push it open.”
“Careful. The countess will have your head if you damage her door.”
“I’m not going to break it. Just give it a firm shove.” He grabbed the handle, twisted it, and pushed. The door didn’t budge.
“Oh dear.”
“Don’t worry,” he scoffed. He jiggled the handle and pressed a foot against the bottom of the wooden frame till it creaked in protest. But the door still didn’t move.
Kitty wrung her hands. “Maybe I should go fetch assistance.”
“Assistance?” he repeated, incredulous. “No need. It’s just a little stuck. I’m sure I can jar it loose.”
He pounded on the casing till the glass rattled. Shook the door until his forehead broke out in a sweat. Tried using his shoulder as a battering ram. It was useless. In fact, the more he pushed, the more the door resisted.
“I’ll enlist a member of the countess’s staff to help,” Kitty said through the panes. “Just don’t … break anything. I’ll return shortly.”
“Wait—”
But she’d already left and was scurrying toward the house. He raked both hands through his hair and muttered a curse. Granted, it wasn’t exactly a tragedy that he was missing the obligatory waltz, inane small talk, and weak lemonade, but it was frustrating to be trapped in a glorified shed. Especially since he knew Hazel wasn’t far away.
All he wanted was to bask in her glow for one more night.
“Hazel?” Poppy’s eyes rounded and she reached for Hazel’s shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “You look stunning in that gown—like you could be the heroine in my favorite sort of novel.”
“You don’t know how relieved I am to see you.” She pulled Poppy into a fierce embrace. They were near the rear of the ballroom, where the orchestra wasn’t so loud and the crowd wasn’t too thick.
Poppy’s freckled brow knit in concern. “Has something happened?”
Hazel swallowed. “Let’s just say that Lady Penelope doesn’t care much for me or Bellehaven Academy.”
She crinkled her nose. “I don’t care much for her. Is there anything I can do?”
“No. I don’t know why I mentioned it. You should be enjoying the evening. Half the young men in Bellehaven Bay were smitten with you already, and after seeing you in that dress tonight, I’d wager the other half are well on their way.”
Poppy scoffed. “I’m not interested in anyone here. Lord Dunmire was ogling me earlier.”
“He’s arrogant and accustomed to getting what he wants. Be careful.”
“Don’t worry. If he tries anything, I’m prepared to defend myself.” She flicked her gaze downward and surreptitiously lifted the hem of her gown, revealing a leather sheath strapped to her calf.
“Is that…?”
“My fillet knife,” Poppy confirmed. “It comes in handy for more than cod.”
Hazel chuckled. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“Miss Lively, there you are!” Prue hurried over, looking rather grown-up with her hair coiled in a braid at her crown. She greeted Poppy with a warm smile, then turned to Hazel. “I’ve missed Bellehaven Academy—and you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” Hazel said sincerely. “More than you know. You look very pretty and fashionable, by the way—just like a London debutante.”
“Well, I’m not a debutante yet, thank goodness. I’m hoping Mama will let me wait another year or two before I must concern myself with a court dress and Almack’s vouchers.” Prue frowned, fiddled with the sash of her apricot gown, then sighed. “But I am determined to pursue my studies regardless,” she said firmly. “And to that end, I have a favor to ask.”
“You’re welcome to borrow books from school anytime you like,” Hazel offered. “As long as your mother has no objection.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you could do something for me tonight. It shouldn’t take long but will necessitate leaving the ballroom.”
“I confess I’m intrigued,” Hazel teased, certain that Prue merely wanted to inquire about a portrait in the countess’s gallery or perhaps a map in the library. “Would you like to come along, Poppy?”
“You go on,” she said breezily. “I’ll remain here and ensure that Kitty and the rest of the girls are staying away from the champagne.”
“Good thinking,” Hazel murmured. “We shan’t be long.”
Prue linked an arm through hers and steered her out of the ballroom, down a corridor, and into a deserted drawing room. “Mama and I had tea with the countess a couple of a days ago,” she explained, “and Lady Rufflebum kindly gave us a tour of her gardens and greenhouse. There were a couple of plant varieties that she couldn’t identify and I’m most eager to know what they are.”
This was precisely what Hazel loved about Prue—her scientific curiosity, her relentless pursuit of knowledge, and her keen interest in nature. “I’m not certain I’ll know the names of the plants, but we can certainly have a look, take some mental notes, and consult a book on flora tomorrow.”
“I just knew you’d be able to help,” Prue said enthusiastically. “The greenhouse is through these doors, a short way down the path.”
Hazel hesitated near the French doors. Moonlight illuminated the walkway, but they’d need a better source of light to inspect the plants. “Shall we bring a lamp?”
Prue shook her head. “No need—I recall seeing one there.”
They stepped outside onto the winding stone path and followed it through the lush garden. It seemed that the farther they moved from the house, the quieter the night grew.
“I’m sorry to steal you away from ball,” Prue said.
“Don’t be silly. I’m always glad to spend time with you.” Prue’s quiet, thoughtful personality was just what Hazel needed, truthfully. Any activity that took her mind off Blade was a welcome distraction.
“Here we are,” Prue said breathlessly. Almost as if she were … nervous.
“Did you tell your mother where you were going?” Hazel asked. “I know she’s not fond of Bellehaven Academy at the moment, but you mustn’t keep secrets from her.”
“You’re right,” Prue whispered, chastened. “But now that we’re here, it doesn’t make sense to turn back. We can look at the plants and return to the ballroom before she realizes I’m missing.” Prue kicked something away from the base of the door, reached for the handle, and opened it.
Against her better judgment, Hazel walked in.
And heard the door slam behind her.
She turned toward the door just in time to see Prue and Kitty running away. When she tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge.
“Kitty?” The voice that called from inside the greenhouse was gruff, masculine, and oh so familiar. There was only one person who could make her heart pound like thunder. Who could make her belly flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. Blade.
“She and Prue just ran toward the house,” she replied. “I believe they’ve locked us in here.”
He took a few steps closer and held the candle between them. “Hazel?” he said, incredulous.
“It’s me,” she confirmed, swallowing the awful lump in her throat. She’d known it would be difficult to see him, but she’d assumed they’d be in a ballroom, surrounded by scores of people. That she’d have the buffer of her friends and her girls.
He stood there, staring at her, still and silent as a statue.
Oh God. What if he’d come to the greenhouse for a tryst? What if Lady Penelope was hiding behind him, straightening her gown and fixing her hair?
“You look … gorgeous,” he breathed.
“What are you doing here?”
He blinked and shook his head. “Kitty claimed she wanted to show me something. Next thing I knew, I was locked inside. You?”
Hazel exhaled, relieved that Penelope wasn’t lurking behind the potting soil after all. “Prue brought me. I think she and Kitty must have wedged something beneath the door. I can’t be certain, but I suspect Poppy was in on the plan, too.”
He strode to the door, made a valiant but futile attempt to open it, then pounded his fist on the frame in frustration. “Why would they scheme to trap us in a greenhouse?” He turned and snapped his gaze to hers. “Unless they want us to be discovered together.”
“Right.” Hazel swallowed. “I’d be compromised.” She didn’t have to say what they were both thinking—that they’d have no choice but to marry. And despite her feelings for Blade, she didn’t want to marry him if it meant settling for less than all of him.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, which, did not make her feel better in the slightest. He reached for her hand and pulled her past a long table lined with pots of herbs and cabbage. “Come with me.”
He led her to a wrought-iron bench with a cushioned seat, set the candle on a matching table, and planted his hands on his hips. “This is all my fault,” he said soberly. “And I’m going to make it right.”