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“I must see to my other guests.” He bowed generally, and made his escape. As he threaded his way across the terrace, Daphne remained beneath the balcony, perhaps waiting for him.

Or avoiding him. “My lady.” He bowed over her hand. “You are in radiant good looks this morning.”

She smiled. “I probably look a bit short of sleep, but then, so do you, and we are both happier for it. Can you spare me a moment, my lord?”

He could spare her the rest of his life. The longer he’d considered that plan, the more joyously he contemplated it. He took the place beside her, and to blazes with anybody who noticed that he was enjoying a conversation tête-à-tête with her ladyship.

“Are you happier for having enjoyed my company last night, my lady?”

She laid her parasol on the table—neither silk nor lace, but rather, sensible cotton. “I am. I had forgotten how sumptuous the pleasure is with the right person. How deeply gratifying the affection.”

Sumptuous was encouraging. “Passion is wasted on the young. I too was reminded of simple and profound joys.”

He gathered up his courage, and reached for her hand just as she brandished a scrap of paper.

“This note,” she said, at the same time he ventured forth with, “Do you ever wonder if—?”

They both fell silent and she passed him the note.

He scanned the few words, though he did not recognize the hand. “Good gracious. Somebody is violating my clear and oft-repeated admonition not to explore the maze.”

“The note was sealed with your crest, my lord, and put into my hands. If the note is from you, then I can assure you, I am not a silly girl who must be enticed into folly with stolen glimpses of your forbidden maze.”

Lysander read over the note again. He’d never, not in his most callow youth, written such drivel.

“You’ve seen a bit more than my maze already, madam, and anybody could find a Montmarche seal in the library or the morning room.

Is there some other fellow who might be sending you such notes?

” For her sake he hoped not. Also for his own sake.

Maudlin tripe.

“Nobody should send me such notes. I suspect Offenbach of attempting to lure me into an indiscretion so he can publicly humiliate me.”

“Lure you, by making use of my seal?”

She nodded, looking regal and peevish as she surveyed the terrace. “He saw us, when you so gallantly escorted me back to my room. I wasn’t sure he recognized you—your back was to him—but he apparently did.”

Well, well, well. “You avoided breakfast because you did not want to confront Offenbach?”

Her gaze traveled over Lysander. “He’s the type to pass along snide innuendo with the toast and marmalade. I suspect he pines from afar for what he cannot have.”

He cannot have you. Lysander was surprised—and pleased—with the vehemence of that sentiment. “Offenbach needs a good hiding, and I am tempted to give it to him. Luring you into the maze is a desperate and despicable act.”

Daphne’s smile was faint, but it was a smile. “You are so fierce.”

“From you, on this beautiful morning, I would rather hear myself described as passionate, but fierce will suffice. While you…”

“Yes?” She cocked her head, clearly willing to hear a bit of flummery so early in the day.

Lysander took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“You are an absolute diamond, and I have a blasted scavenger hunt to manage when I would rather… Suffice to say, that if I didn’t think your son would interrogate me the livelong day as to my prospects and provenance, I would ask the lad for permission to court you. ”

Daphne sat up quite straight. “Court me?”

“My skills are rusty, but once upon a time, I could manage a whole quadrille without once crashing into my partner. I am a competent accompanist, and I can read poetry in French or English, though I don’t always grasp the French double entendres.”

“What has French poetry to do with…?” She waved a hand in the general direction of the bedrooms on the next floor up.

“Precisely. I might not be all that impressive as a suitor, but I aspire to make you a devoted, fierce, and passionate husband. Will you give me leave to hope?”

In the time it took her to fold up the little note and pull on her gloves, Lysander realized that even if he could have turned back the clock, to be a more dashing suitor or tireless lover, he would rather have the wisdom and resilience that came with age.

Daphne might turn him down, and perhaps they’d become one of those older demi-couples who were invited everywhere together, without anybody having to make a great to-do over it.

She might make him work for it, withholding a decision for a time; and work for it, he would.

Or she might, possibly, if he was very lucky, say…

“Yes.” Her smile was luminous and full of mischief. “You have reason to hope and aspire and even swagger a bit, discreetly, of course. One doesn’t want the young fellows to be cast in the shade by your gallantry.”

Gallant fellow that he was, Lysander collected the note, lest it fall into the wrong hands. “You are not succumbing to temptation in a weak moment? I have a ten-year-old hoyden in my nursery, and I’m not much of one for the Town whirl.”

Daphne leaned close. “I despise the Town whirl. I do my duty because Phoebe needs a chaperone, but I’m hopeful she and Mr. Tremont might make a match of it.

What do we do with that note, my lord? I would not mind leaving Mr. Offenbach to wander your maze for all eternity, except that your gardeners would eventually stumble on his bones. ”

“To blazes with Offenbach and his bones. You’ll marry me, then?”

She gathered up her parasol. “If I were twenty-five years younger, I’d hesitate and stammer and allude to the need to get to know you better, but those twenty-five years are lost to me. I know my own heart and mind. We will suit, my lord, and I adore the hoyden in your nursery. ”

“Then I have already found the only treasure on this property worth having.”

They beamed at each other for a moment, not fatuously of course, because fatuousness was the province of callow swains and blushing damsels. Perhaps their beaming was a bit fierce.

Lysander rose and offered the lady his hand. “What do you suppose Offenbach pines for?”

“Not a what, a who. He’s ridden the hobbyhorse of the charming wastrel until the beast is ready to collapse from over-exertion, and now…

He’s in the grip of bad habits and poor prospects.

Mr. Offenbach wants a wife. A sensible woman like Mrs. Cavanaugh, who has a way with unruly boys and unrulier men.

He knows she’d be a good companion, and I believe, given the chance, he’d try hard to be a decent spouse to her. ”

“I grant you, Offenbach is charming and handsome enough, but Emma Cavanaugh would not allow Absalom Offenbach within kissing distance if he were the last eligible…” Lysander fell silent, because clearly, Mrs. Cavanaugh viewed husbands as projects, and Offenbach was in desperate need of a project manager.

“I have an idea,” he said, tucking Daphne’s hand over his arm. “Do you suppose my George would deliver a note if you asked him to?”

“A note to Mrs. Cavanaugh? He could certainly manage the requisite discretion.”

“Exactly so. I’m not suggesting we matchmake, precisely, but two people stuck in the same maze should at least strike up a conversation, don’t you think? A conversation is a good place to start.”

Daphne paused to open her parasol. “A conversation would be a novel experience for Offenbach when it comes to private situations and females. Who knows? Away from prying eyes and gossips, he and Mrs. Cavanaugh might find something to discuss.”

“Or she might black his eye.”

Daphne positioned her parasol over her shoulder and took Lysander’s arm. “She has four sons. I suspect she’ll deliver a swift kick to his expectations if he oversteps.”

Marriage to this woman would be enchanting. “I will tear the seal away, and Ever Thine Offenbach can try his luck scaling the heights of conversation with Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

Lysander and his intended—his intended!—strolled across the terrace and down into the gardens, and perhaps it was simply the relief of a house party drawing to close, or perhaps it was the salubrious effect of the fresh morning air, but his gardens hadn’t look half so pretty to him at any point in the past five years.

Daphne hadn’t felt half so pretty for years. She’d grown accustomed to blending in, to being graciously forgettable, but oh, how the prospect of marriage to Lysander pleased her. The physical intimacy was lovely to contemplate, but so too was the prospect of a marital friendship.

A compatriot in life, a hand to hold, a partner in parenting and domesticity, much less in sickness and in health.

And the idea that Terrence would finally have to manage on his own means was so great a relief that Daphne could acknowledge how badly he’d been bedeviling her.

“May we tell the children tonight?” Daphne asked. “Before dinner. I don’t want to make any announcements, because this is a wedding party, and the bride and groom should have all the good wishes, but I want…”

“You want the children to stop worrying about us. I daresay my sister will claim she chose us for each other. There’s George. Killoway, rather.”

Daphne dealt with the note, which George agreed to pass along to Mrs. Cavanaugh on behalf of “another guest.”

“Shall we do the banns,” Daphne asked, returning to Lysander’s side, “or use a special license? ”

Lysander set a leisurely pace along the garden path, and Daphne suspected he was showing her off to the groups milling about, waiting for the scavenger hunt to begin. Truth be told, she was showing him off too.

“You will be my bride, if God allows and you remain willing. The particulars of the ceremony must fall within your demesne. I would honestly enjoy…” He scowled faintly, as if searching for words.

“Yes?”

He twirled his wrist. “A few stolen kisses, some sweet nothings, a billet-doux, though you are most likely to end up with a description of the harvest or fall lambing from me. I shall make the effort, nonetheless, but don’t expect any of that ever-thine folderol.”

He wanted… he wanted some romance . “Of course not. We need time for the children to adjust to the notion of our marriage, and for us to work out the practical considerations.”

“Precisely. We have lives, and weaving them together will take some thought.” He bent to pluck a pink rose from the trellis arched over the walkway and passed the bloom to Daphne.

She chose another blossom and tucked it into his lapel. “Banns then,” she said. “We are in no hurry, are we?”

“None at all, provided you don’t expect me to wait until the wedding night to further demonstrate my impressive ferocity.”

He was so very dear. “Do you want to wait until the wedding night, my lord?”

“Build up the anticipation, you mean?”

“Something like that.”

He drew her to a halt and regarded her with a brooding frown.

“Frankly, no. I am already in such a state of anticipation that I doubt my ability to withstand weeks in the same condition. If the maze were not spoken for, I’d invite you to slip away with me there, and we would all the pleasures prove . ”

“You quote me poetry.”

“The alternative is profanity. If this scavenger hunt doesn’t soon get under way, I will have a stern word with my darling sister. ”

“She might be waiting for me to return you to the terrace, Montmarche.”

He glanced up at the terrace, where Mrs. Gavineau stood calling out names to the knot of guests around her.

Lysander kissed Daphne on the cheek and he took his time about it too. “ Now , you may return me to the assemblage who have been ogling our every move, but do not think to abandon me to search for feathers and speckled pebbles.”

She would like to hunt for treasure in his bed, which was very naughty of her. “I have been assigned to a team, my lord.”

“So was Mrs. Cavanaugh, and so was Offenbach, but I don’t see them among the scavengers, do you?”

Daphne looked about the terrace, seeing neither Mrs. Cavanaugh nor Mr. Offenbach waiting with the crowd preparing to start the scavenger hunt. “If they are in the maze, you will rescue them once the guests have dispersed?”

“I suppose I ought to.”

“You really should, sir. Before luncheon at the latest.”

“Or before supper, if the weather holds fair.”

“Naughty man.”

“For you, my dear, I am prepared to be very naughty indeed.”

Silly banter. Daphne had missed it more than she’d known.

The teams were large enough that nobody was inclined to remark the half dozen or so guests not present, and after the rules had been read at length, and good wishes and the requisite taunts exchanged, the teams prepared to move off in search of the listed treasures.

Daphne remained happily at Lysander’s side, even when Mrs. Gavineau aimed a rather puzzled smile at her.

“Papa! Papa!” Lady Sophronia pelted out the house. “You must come. Mr. Offenbach and Mrs. Cavanaugh are trapped in the maze and absolutely terrified.” Every guest stared at the child, who was panting even as she tugged at her father’s sleeve. “Please, Papa, you cannot leave them there. ”

Mrs. Gavineau touched Sophronia’s shoulder. “How do you know they are terrified, child?”

“Because they are hugging each other mortally tight, and they haven’t taken a step the whole time I tried to wave at them from the nursery windows. Mrs. Cavanaugh’s hat fell off and she couldn’t even let go of Mr. Offenbach to pick it up. They are petrified and we must rescue them . ”

A hum of conversation started up among the guests, while Mrs. Gavineau’s expression went from curious, to aghast, to carefully blank.

“My friends, good luck on your scavenger hunt,” Montmarche called. “Lady Sophronia and I have guests to rescue. Lady Cargill, if you’d accompany us?”

Sophronia capered ahead of them, while Daphne toddled along beside the earl. They made it halfway past the conservatory before they both went off into whoops.