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“Tell that to your body,” Hugo seethed, and then ran a hand down her side, his fingers cupping and gripping her left breast.

Immediately she felt her nipples harden and her womb clench. Before she could demand he stop, he let her go; instantly leaving her cold.

“Hugo, wait,” she insisted, following him. “You know that my situation is not that simple!”

He stopped at the door, and put his hand up to still her reach for him.

“You should truly take a moment and think about what it is you want, Seraphina,” he advised, “Before it is too late.”

“Seraphina, thank God, where have you been?” Theo whispered, flying to her side.

Seraphina blushed, but was thankful that her friends had found her before her mother or Martin had.

“I had a headache all of a sudden,” she lied, allowing Theo to pull her close. “I could not remember which room was mine and Mother’s, so I just found a quiet one and took some time.”

“Thank heavens,” Rose said, looking relieved, “We had feared the Earl had pulled you into an unsavory situation.”

No, not Martin,Seraphina thought, her mind flashing back to Hugo. His words hung heavily in her heart, and she was torn as to what to do.

“I promise I am fine,” she assured them, “Lord Repington was called away to the cigar room. Apparently he is an illustrious hunter.”

“It would seem so,” Theo muttered unhappily, “The way he is going after you.”

Seraphina’s stomach knotted as she thought of the way he had touched her. She certainly did feel like helpless prey when she was around him; constantly looking for ways to escape.

“Let us talk of something else, please,” she urged, glancing around at the lawn. “It is a beautiful day and I do not wish to darken it with such talk.”

“Agreed,” Rose said readily, looping her arm through Seraphina’s. “The hostess is putting on a treasure hunt in the gardens, I believe. Let us go and see if there is still time to join.”

Relieved for the distraction, Seraphina followed her friends toward the lush gardens away from the house, and arrived just in time to hear the hostess going over the rules of the game. As the hostess spoke, Seraphina took a moment to look around at the others that had gathered. It seemed that most of the invited had come out to participate in the game.

She saw her mother, chatting with some other mothers who wore tight, forced smiles in front of the unmarried woman. Seraphina sighed, wishing her mother would accept that those women would never see her as one of their own. Looking away, she then spotted Martin, who looked quite content while still talking of his hunting accomplishments. She doubted either would be playing the game, since they were not paying attention to the hostess. But Hugo stood nearby, lurking at the outer edge of the gathered circle, standing beside Tristan and two other men.

Tristan and the two others were chatting boisterously with one another, but Hugo stood silent, his eyes set on hers. The words from the hostess began to blur in fade in Seraphina’s ears as she stared back at him. What was she going to do?

Her upcoming marriage was never going to be about love. She had given up on such a match long ago. But Hugo had been right. She did have a choice. To marry into societal comfort. Or marry into a personal one.

Her reputation would be saved by Martin. But Hugo…. Hugo might save her body and spirit.

What it would be like to be married to him? To not have to watch her words or feel as if she were performing all the time? Would they make each other laugh? Make each other happy, despite ostracized together? Or would she pine for what she missed in not marrying Martin? For acceptance into the ton and a life free of harsh whispers?

Did she truly care about fitting in? Or was it her mother’s worry, simply thrust onto her?

“Seraphina, come, the hostess just declared the start of the game!” Rose said beside her. “We are looking for the first clue.”

Seraphina blinked, and forced her gaze away from Hugo.

“What?”

Rose’s brow drew down in concern.

“The first clue,” Rose explained, “It has been given to us. In the bush you will find, a glittery bauble that is one of a kind. It is not rose or lilac or thyme, but one whose branches produce a fruit most sublime. Come! I believe she means the pear trees!”

Seraphina felt her friend tug at her, but she shook her head.

“I changed my mind, I do not want to play,” she replied. “You two go on. I believe I saw Ophelia and Amelia heading toward the orchard. They will help you.”

“Go on,” Rose encouraged Theo lightly, “We shall catch up to you later.”