Chapter Three
Morning sunlight streamed through the conservatory windows, turning the glass panes into a kaleidoscope of crystal and gold. Emma paused in the doorway, breathing in the rich scent of blooming jasmine and early spring flowers. The Duke’s conservatory was famous throughout the county, and now she understood why.
“The first clue should be here somewhere,” Lord Limnwood’s voice behind her broke into her contemplation. “Though I confess, I find the Duke’s reference to ‘Venus’ favourite’ rather obscure.”
Emma turned to face him, careful to maintain a polite distance. After last night’s dinner, she was achingly aware of the need to prove that she could be perfectly proper.
“Not so obscure, my Lord, if one considers classical mythology. Venus’ favourite flower was the rose, although she was also fond of violets.”
His eyebrows rose slightly.
“I had forgotten that detail.”
“How fortunate then, that we are partnered. Between your propriety and my classical education, we might actually succeed at this challenge.”
She hadn’t meant to sound quite so tart, but his slight flinch suggested that the barb had struck home. To her surprise, instead of retreating into cold correctness, he smiled slightly.
“I deserve that, I suppose. Shall we examine the roses?”
The conservatory held several varieties, their blooms perfuming the air. Emma moved carefully between the plants, conscious of Lord Limnwood’s tall presence behind her. Other couples were searching the conservatory as well - she could hear Lady Anne’s voice from somewhere beyond the orange trees, instructing her partner rather imperiously.
“Here.” Emma stopped before a magnificent white rose bush. “These are Damask roses - they were sacred to Venus in Roman times.”
Lord Limnwood stepped closer to examine the plant. Emma caught her breath at his proximity, the subtle scent of his cologne mingling with the roses. For a moment, neither spoke.
“There.”
He pointed to a small piece of parchment tucked among the blooms. As he reached for it, his sleeve caught on a thorn.
“Careful!”
Emma moved without thinking, her hands coming up to help free the fine wool from the thorns. Her fingers brushed his wrist, and she felt him go very still.
“I... thank you.”
His voice was oddly rough. When she dared look up, his eyes were dark with something she didn’t dare name.
A crash from the other side of the conservatory broke the moment. They turned to see young Lord Henry Ashworth, recently down from Oxford, apologising profusely to the gardener for knocking over a pot of orchids.
“Poor Lord Henry,” Emma murmured. “He seems quite overwhelmed by this challenge.”
“He would do better to pay attention to his task rather than constantly looking to see what others are doing,” Lord Limnwood observed.
“He’s very young.” Emma watched the young man’s clear distress as the gardener lectured him about the value of the plants. “And clearly nervous. Not everyone finds such competitions easy.”
Something in her tone made Lord Limnwood look at her more closely.
“You seem very understanding of his situation.”
“I remember my first house party.” She smiled slightly. “Everything seemed so overwhelming. So many rules to remember, so many ways to go wrong. Sometimes a little kindness can make all the difference.”
Their eyes met, and Emma was startled to see real interest in his expression.
“You surprise me, Miss Everton.”
“Do I? Because I understand nervousness? Or because you did not expect me to care about others’ feelings?”
“Because you see far more than you admit to.” He unfolded the clue they had found. “Just as you saw the meaning of ‘Venus’ favourite’ when I did not.”
Emma felt warmth bloom in her chest at this unexpected praise.
“Perhaps, my Lord, there is more to both of us than first impressions might suggest.”
His eyes met hers again, and that same spark of connection she had felt during their poetry recital flickered between them. Then Lady Anne’s voice carried across the conservatory.
“Lord Limnwood! Have you found anything of note? We seem to be quite stuck with our clue.”
Emma saw him stiffen slightly, his expression closing again.
“We should proceed with our hunt,” he said quietly. “The next clue seems to indicate the temple folly by the lake. We must be getting close to the last clues now, surely.”
She nodded, trying to hide her disappointment as his walls went up again.
They had been so close to... something. Understanding? Friendship? Or perhaps something more dangerous to them both?
As they left the conservatory, Emma noticed Lord Henry still looking lost and confused, studying his clue with obvious bewilderment. Making a swift decision, she paused beside him.
“You might try looking near the violets,” she whispered. “They were sacred to Venus too.”
His face lit up.
“Oh! Thank you, Miss Everton!”
She hurried to catch up with Lord Limnwood, who had stopped in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
“That was against the rules,” he said quietly.
“Was it? I don’t recall any rule against being kind.”
“The teams are meant to work independently.”
“And they are. I simply... eased his path a little. Surely you cannot object to a small kindness?”
His jaw tightened.
“Rules exist for a reason, Miss Everton.”
“Yes, they do. But they should not prevent basic human compassion.” She met his eyes steadily. “Or do you disagree?”
“Your compassion does you credit,” Lord Limnwood said stiffly, “but it sets a poor example. If everyone simply ignored rules they found inconvenient...”
“A hint about flowers is hardly likely to bring about the collapse of civilised society.” Emma fought to keep her voice level. “Though I begin to wonder what happened to make you so afraid of the slightest deviation from absolute propriety.”
His face went pale, then flushed.
“You go too far, Miss Everton.”
“Do I? Or do I simply see what you wish to hide? That somewhere beneath all of this rigid propriety beats a heart that actually feels things?”
They had reached the path to the lake, the temple folly visible through the trees. Emma was grateful for the privacy that the winding path provided - she had no wish for others to witness this clash. Lord Limnwood stopped walking, turning to face her fully.
“You think me heartless because I understand the importance of proper behaviour?”
“No. I think that you hide your heart because you fear where it might lead you.”
The words escaped before she could stop them, and she saw them strike home. For a moment, something raw and vulnerable flickered in his eyes. Then his expression hardened.
“You know nothing of my heart or my fears, Miss Everton. But since you seem to set such store by kindness, let me be kind enough to be absolutely clear - I have no interest in your attempts to reform my character or understand my motivations. We are partners in this house party by chance, nothing more. I suggest that we complete our tasks with proper dignity and minimal conversation. As it is, we risk scandal simply because we are on this path alone, with no others currently in sight. If we hurry, then perhaps we will find ourselves back in company before anyone notices.”
Emma felt as if he had slapped her. She lifted her chin, refusing to show how deeply his words had hurt.
“As you wish, my Lord. Though I wonder - does proper dignity require you to be quite so cruel?”
She turned away, blinking back tears, and nearly collided with Lady Anne, who had apparently approached without their notice.
“Oh dear,” Lady Anne’s voice dripped false concern. “Have I interrupted something? Though really, Miss Everton, such displays of emotion are hardly appropriate for a morning’s entertainment.”
“Your concern is noted, Lady Anne.” Emma was proud of how steady her voice remained. “Though unnecessary. Lord Limnwood and I were merely discussing the rules of engagement for this activity. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I see the next clue.”
She walked away, her back straight, letting none of her turmoil show. Behind her, she heard Lady Anne’s soft laugh.
“Such spirit, my Lord. Though hardly suitable in a lady of quality. I cannot imagine what Sir William was thinking, to allow his daughter such... freedom of expression.”
Emma didn’t wait to hear Lord Limnwood’s response. She had reached the temple folly, its classical columns cool and smooth under her trembling fingers as she steadied herself. She would not cry. She would not give either of them the satisfaction.
The sound of footsteps made her stiffen, but it was Lord James who appeared around the column.
“Miss Everton! Just the person I hoped to see. Lady Beatrice and I are completely stuck on this clue about Minerva’s bird. I don’t suppose...”
“The owl,” she supplied automatically. “Though I shouldn’t tell you that. It’s against the rules.”
Something in her tone made him look more closely at her face. His easy smile faded.
“I say, are you quite all right? Has my brother been being particularly stubborn about something?”
“Your brother is exactly what he wishes to be - a perfect model of proper behaviour.”
She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.
“Ah.” Lord James’ expression showed perfect understanding. “He’s been noble and correct and completely idiotic, hasn’t he?”
A reluctant laugh escaped her.
“Something like that.”
“Miss Everton.” Lord Limnwood’s voice behind her made her jump. “I believe that we have a task to complete.”
“By all means, dear brother,” Lord James said cheerfully. “Though you might want to consider that sometimes the biggest risk to propriety is in maintaining it so rigidly that you drive away all possibility of joy.” He bowed to Emma. “Thank you for the hint about the owl. Lady Beatrice will be delighted.”
*****
James strolled away, whistling, leaving them in a silence thick with unspoken words. Around them, on the banks of the small lake and on the paths, the other couples were scattered about, most looking quite confused. Nathaniel watched Emma move gracefully around the folly’s columns, studying each carved detail as if he and his cutting words didn’t exist. Her dignity in the face of his cruelty shamed him. Yet he could not seem to find a way to bridge the gulf that his harsh words had created.
“The next clue should be here somewhere,” she said, her voice perfectly controlled. “Though perhaps we should wait for others to catch up more closely, lest us searching might remove us from clear public view for a few moments, and that would apparently be a grave breach of propriety.”
He deserved that.
“Miss Everton...”
“Please, my Lord. You made your position quite clear. Let us simply complete our task.”
But her hands trembled slightly as she reached for a piece of parchment tucked into a carved owl’s beak, and he found himself moving to steady her without thought. His fingers brushed her wrist, and he felt her sharp intake of breath.
“I should not have spoken so harshly,” he said quietly.
She turned to face him, and the hurt in her violet eyes struck him like a physical blow.
“No. You should not have. But you did, and now we both know exactly where we stand.”
“Do we?”
“Don’t.” She stepped back, breaking contact. “You cannot tell me that my very nature offends your sense of propriety one moment, then expect me to forget it the next.”
“That is not what I...”
“Lord Limnwood! Miss Everton!” The Duke’s voice carried across the garden. “Have you solved all of the clues? Several couples have already returned to the house.”
Miss Everton’s spine straightened.
“We should go. Heaven forbid that we fail to complete our proper task in the officially allotted time.”
She looked down at the piece of parchment, quietly reading it, then looked up at him and smiled.
“As it happens, this is our last clue – it asks a question – to which I know the answer – and apparently, that answer is all that we need to complete our quest. I gather, from the way that this had proceeded, that there were many correct paths through the clues, but that they all ended up pointing to that one final answer. How very clever of the Duke.”
She moved past him, her skirts brushing his legs, her scent – lemon water, touched by a hint of the jasmine and roses from the conservatory - teasing his senses. He watched her walk away, her head high, and wondered how he could have gone so completely wrong in the space of one morning.
The conservatory had felt like a beginning - her quick mind and generous heart had drawn him in despite his reservations. For a few precious moments, he had glimpsed what it might be like to let down his guard, to trust in something beyond rigid rules.
Then she had helped young Lord Henry, and all of his fears had come rushing back. One small breach of the rules could lead to others. He had seen it happen before - his cousin Charlotte’s reputation ruined by one seemingly harmless moment of impropriety that had led to so much worse. But Miss Everton was not Charlotte. And he was not responsible for saving everyone from themselves.
“Coming, my Lord?” Her voice carried back to him, cool and distant. “Or shall I tell the Duke that you required more time to consider the proper approach to returning to the house?”
He caught up to her in a few long strides.
“Your talent for subtle mockery is quite remarkable.”
“Thank you. I do try to keep it within proper bounds.”
But he saw the corner of her mouth twitch, just slightly.
They walked in silence through the gardens, joining other couples heading for the house. Ahead of them, Lord Henry was explaining excitedly to his partner about finding the clue by the violets. The boy’s obvious joy made Nathaniel’s conscience prick uncomfortably.
“Perhaps,” he said very quietly, “I was overly harsh about your assistance to Lord Henry.”
Miss Everton’s step faltered slightly.
“Perhaps?”
“I...” he hesitated. “I have seen what can happen when rules are ignored.”
“So you said. Though I notice that you have not actually apologised for calling me a poor example to others.”
“Would you accept such an apology if I made it?”
She was silent for several steps.
“That would depend, my Lord, on whether you actually meant it, or were simply being properly polite.”
Before he could respond, they reached the house. Lady Anne was waiting on the steps, her expression brightening as she saw him.
“Lord Limnwood! I wondered if you might advise me about the day after tomorrow’s activities? I understand that we are to arrange flowers for the dinner table, and I would so value your opinion on proper classical forms...”
Miss Everton’s quiet laugh held no humour.
“You need not fear, Lady Anne. Lord Limnwood’s opinions on proper behaviour are quite rigid. I am sure that he will be happy to prevent any unfortunate deviations from absolute correctness. Although perhaps proper attention to the finalisation of today’s activities would be more appropriate, before considering tomorrow’s tasks?”
She slipped past them into the house, leaving Nathaniel to wonder if he had just made things vastly worse, or if that flash of genuine feeling in her laugh meant that there might still be some hope of understanding between them.
Either way, he had a great deal to think about before tomorrow’s activities threw them together again.