Page 3 of For the Love of Clover (Breaking the Rules of the Beau Monde #4)

CHAPTER 3

C lover didn’t have time to feel embarrassed when Mr. Darrington first arrived at the centrally located fountain in the hedge maze. She had hoped to avoid the gameplay and thought getting lost in the labyrinth would be an easy excuse.

But then, Mr. Darrington had wandered in. She couldn’t say he’d found her since she seriously doubted he had been looking for her. Speaking her mind and saying things she should not have said in the company of a man, or anyone for that matter, had not been her intent, but she was pleased when he didn’t seem to care or notice. Her stomach fluttered and her cheeks felt warm.

No one had been there when she first came upon the clearing, so she had openly examined both statues. She was, of course, familiar with a woman’s body but was intrigued by the sculptor’s depiction where one breast displayed a stiff, erect nipple and the other was covered by an arm, the fingers of the figure wrapped around the side like the woman was holding herself in place and seeming quite pleased about it. The woman’s other hand was partially covered by the carved scarf that barely shielded her womanly parts and seemingly fell from her hips.

It was erotic. At first glance, it appeared innocent enough, but then the more she studied it, the warmer she felt.

That was before she discovered the male counterpart. The sculpture mesmerized her. She’d heard of Michaelangelo’s David, but she’d never seen it. The figure in this scene was not David, but it was a man. Naked. Completely and utterly naked without so much as a hint of proprietary embarrassment or shame. He stood there in all his glory. In Clover’s opinion, she could not understand what all the fuss was, except she’d never seen a fully naked man before. That interested her. But she could not bring herself to find it erotically pleasing. No warmth had bloomed in her like the figure of the woman had inspired. In her head, she had gone over the things her friends had said, but their fascination and knowing smiles seemed exaggerated if this man was the epitome of a sexual encounter.

She wasn’t completely ignorant. She knew what went where. She simply didn’t understand how or why you’d want it there.

“How long do you think this will last?” she whispered almost imperceptibly, unsure whether Mr. Darrington heard.

“Not long if she moves that hand again.”

Clover positioned her head to see through the shrubs, bumping Mr. Darrington’s chin in the process. He was good enough not to grunt or move. She wanted to know what he meant by the statement. One of the woman’s hands was twirling a thread of golden hair, and the other was brazenly on the man’s thigh. Leaning in, Clover almost lost her balance, saved by an arm like steel slipping about her waist, steadying her. Mr. Darrington’s near embrace had been necessary, but she felt that little flip in her stomach all the same, and she had no guard against the security she felt from his reaction, either.

The woman laughed, removed her hand, and the couple proceeded to depart, leaving Clover the distinct impression they were headed for a private rendezvous.

She took a deep breath, more aware of Mr. Darrington’s arm about her. The sensation tickled her stomach. The tips of his fingers dug in not uncomfortably at her waist. Just when she was about to ask for help standing, more guests entered the small courtyard. They couldn’t rise now. Not without bringing censure down upon them both and causing a yarn of gossip thick enough to knit a sweater.

She folded into Mr. Darrington, assured he must have felt the same about the intruders. This time, it was not a couple looking for privacy. Two men walked the perimeter, gesturing at the statues, smiling at the figure of the woman. One stood on the edge of the marble well, where the water created a small pond. He reached up toward the figure and pressed a finger on the tip of the carved breast.

The other man guffawed. “You’re going to fall in and for what, a hard stone diddy? You can’t find anything softer? And I’m not talking about the piss-proud cock in your trousers.”

The vulgar man, with his hand at the breast of the figure, pulled the pad of his thumb across the woman’s nipple and then licked his thumb. “There’s wishing it true, my friend.”

“This weekend? And who would have you?”

Both men sounded deep in their cups, and the one leaning over the fountain all but lost his footing before he found his way back to solid ground. They then edged around to the male figure.

“Flaccid prick. Why do you think he’s shooting off his pearly shower alone for? What a waste.”

Clover pulled back slightly, not sure if she should be utterly disgusted with the talk or if it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Her familiarity with vulgar words was limited.

“Nodcocks,” Mr. Darrington mumbled.

“I’ve had most of the women here,” one man said.

“You’re a fanciful dreamer. Women revile you.”

“And you can do better?”

“A virgin.”

Clover understood that word well enough. She swallowed hard, not liking the turn of this conversation. By the flex of Mr. Darrington’s fingers, he apparently wasn’t keen on it either. But neither said a thing because to be found by these nodcocks, as Mr. Darrington had so nicely mocked the idiots, would be a disgrace to Clover and her brother.

“Here? I dare you to find one.”

“I know a very pretty one who’s grown up into quite a woman.”

“Who? And what makes you think you’re worthy?”

“I never said I was worthy. She’s as innocent as they come and would be easily seduced.”

“I’m listening.”

“ And she’s the sister of a duke.” That got the man’s attention. It also got Clover’s attention. There could be no mistake they meant her.

Her breath picked up a beat. She felt lightheaded.

“Fine. I challenge you to it.”

“I’ll do better. I’ll set a wager on her maidenhead.”

“Oh? Now you have my interest. Who is the chit?”

“Kingsley’s sister is here. Have you met her?”

“No. But I’ve seen her. She’s pretty enough. Are you sure of her virtue?” the idiot snarked.

“If she’s here, she’s game. Too bad she’s not the lucky squirrel in today’s competition.”

“I’ll wager ten pounds on the first kiss of lucky Clover.”

“I’ll wager a hundred for a lucky pluck.” They guffawed, stumbling into one another.

Clover could have sworn Mr. Darrington hissed a curse.

The men walked within a foot of the hedge where she and Mr. Darrington hid before they staggered out of range and back into the maze.

“Damn, foolish bastards,” Mr. Darrington said as he moved to help Clover stand.

She was shaken by the events and belatedly embarrassed for her words and her actions today. She wouldn’t blame Mr. Darrington if he accused her of encouraging the vulgar behavior after she’d stood in front of the naked sculpture brazenly speaking of pissing.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Mr. Darrington brushed off his breeches.

“The part where you called them bastards or the part where they made such vulgar suggestions about my person?”

“Vulgar indeed. They won’t last the night before I lay them out.”

“Don’t. Don’t say a thing. It’s humiliating enough. Lord knows I shouldn’t have come.” She brushed off her skirts and avoided looking at him. “How long do you think we can stay here? I wasn’t in the mood for games. I’m less so now.”

“Is all night too long?” And then he cringed as if he just realized what he’d said. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know, Mr. Darrington. I’m just embarrassed. And honestly, all night sounds perfect because I am in no hurry to return, nor perhaps should I.”

“Drunken idiots. If you’d give me permission, I’d make certain they leave posthaste.

“I didn’t take you for the permission kind.” She bent, smoothing her long skirt. When she straightened, their gazes clashed, and he looked like a man ready to do bodily harm. She lifted a brow. “That wasn’t a challenge, just an observation.”

“Trust me when I say I’d take great pleasure in beating them beyond the ability to apologize.”

She allowed the thought to take root, but not in a vengeful way. No, the idea of watching Mr. Darrington fight sent her heart beating in her throat, and adrenaline-laced excitement warmed her limbs. She blinked it away. “Hurting them would do more harm than good. I’m not even sure what they meant by some of it. What’s a pearl shower?” She rested her hands on her hips, curiosity overriding her pique.

Mr. Darrington rolled his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed with vigor. “Do me a kindness and do not under any circumstance repeat that last bit. Not to anyone, especially your brother. And while you make that list, add me as well.”

“May I ask my friends?”

“Clover!” he said too loudly for her liking, his closed eyes flying open and pinning her with meaning. The force of the outburst added to the impact of using her name.

“Since you’re acting like my keeper, I thought it prudent to ask before I did something of my own volition.” Her voice made a mockery of the statement, making it clear she meant the opposite.

He flattened his palms out in front of him. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Then tell me what it means, Hugo .”

He had the grace to wince. “My apologies, Lady Clover.”

She compressed her mouth while holding his gaze hostage with contempt. “Not necessary, Mr . Darrington.”

They both simultaneously turned their heads at the sound of distant laughter.

“We need to get out of here,” Mr. Darrington advised, forcefully gripping her by the elbow.

She yanked her arm free, took one last memorizing peek at the naked statue, and followed Mr. Darrington from the courtyard in the opposite direction of the sounds of revelry. She lengthened her stride to keep up and assumed Mr. Darrington was teaching her some kind of childish lesson for disallowing his help.

“Stop,” she insisted. Several paces back, she planted her heels and looked about her.

“The sound is too near. We need to find another way out.” He looked about for another route.

“And you know the way?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just mumbled, “Right, left, another left.”

“What are you doing?”

“Shush, Mr. Darrington, and let me think.” She made little walking gestures, her fingers going over the path they had just traversed in her head. She pivoted toward Mr. Darrington. “Was it two lefts or one?”

He looked momentarily stunned. His brow froze half cocked before he blinked it away and craned his neck, searching the ground around him and following the footprints with his eyes. “Do you have a map?” he turned back to ask.

“In my head.” She tapped two fingertips to her temple, then pointed her index finger at him. “You should listen more often or at least ask a question or two before you take off in random directions. If you don’t know where we’re going, perhaps I do. Or didn’t you think of that?”

He huffed, leaving her the impression that she’d exasperated him. “You shouldn’t point. It’s rude.”

She looked at her hand and smiled because his deflecting comment told her everything she needed to know. “Go ahead, ask me for directions. I dare you.”

“I dare you to stand there a second longer and be found by half the guests here who will, without a doubt, wonder what you and I have been up to all alone.”

That bit of truth did get her attention. “Mrs. LaDow gave me a clue should I get lost. I think she knew I’d rather not be bothered. This whole weekend was not my idea, you see. So, the hedge maze seemed the safest place to hide. That is until I found you. Now, if you’re lost and would care to apologize again, we’ll find the way through.” She ended the explanation on a jestingly high note.

He gave a short bow, with a mocking sweep of his arm. “Lead the way, Lady Clover.”

His smiling green eyes always had a way of stopping her. They looked like the turquoise of coastal waters. Not quite green and never fully blue. It reminded her how infatuated she’d been as a young debutante before Darrington, Markham, and Rochester had disappeared for three years. And that Christmas party at her family estate two Christmastides ago had been a bruise to her ego when Darrington had gladly danced with her and entertained her on occasion but didn’t seem otherwise interested. Her infatuation had been superficial, and so had his friendship.

His gravelly voice brought her back. “Well?” He flared those beautiful eyes at her. “Are you going to stop staring at me like I’m a perfect imbecile and say something?”

“A perfect imbecile. Remind me to ask you about that later.”

“You’re lost.”

“I’m not. I’m waiting for your help.”

“I just said our last turn had been a left. You are clearly not listening, now, little mouse.”

Hmm, little mouse. She’d have to ask about that one later as well. “Then right it is. We follow this direction until we reach the east hedge wall. This path should be a straight shot there. Are you coming?” she asked as he looked at her strangely. She walked toward him, took his hand, and pointed. “This way.”

When they reached the outer hedge enclosure, she saw the pots of burnt orange azaleas lining the wall. “Look for the clover.”

“You’re standing right here.”

She gave him a ridiculous look. “Between the pots. There should be a place where it sprouts from.”

“It’s all over.” He sounded amusingly exasperated. “The clover is all over. That rhymes.”

“We’ll discuss your intelligent quips later.”

“Along with your language.” He continued to look. “Here it is. It’s coming from the edge of the hedge.” He cleared his throat. She stopped until he caught her eye, and they both burst into laughter.

“You must stop rhyming.”

“Truly, it’s a coincidence. Now, what is this clue?”

“There should be a gate here.” She reached for the hedge and then looked at her gloves.

Darrington removed his gloves, sacrificing his hands, he gingerly stuck them through the greenery.