Page 184 of Immortal Rose

The first straightened. “I was only—” He cleared his throat, rubbing at his head. “Don’t mind me.”

Glenmoor’s gaze drifted up the receiving line. His mouth curled into one of his utterly feline smirks at our approach. The fairy charm glinted where it held his cravat in place.

I was still staring at it as we came to a reluctant stop before them. And somehow—somehow—with all his immense pride, Hugh bent at the waist, in front of all high society. The final acquiescence. I dipped into a curtsy, feeling as if I wanted to vomit. The duke’s triumphant smile coated my skin in ice.

Without a word, Hugh swept us down the final, short pile of stairs to the sunken heart of the garden. His breathing was ragged as we navigated around the quartet playing its serene song, away from the wolves in fine evening wear, into the entrance of the hedge maze, just far enough to be tucked behind a corner.

“The charm . . .” I began.

“I know,” he said, finding my gaze in the dark. He pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “It’s time. Are you certain you want to do this?”

I smiled, brushing a hand against his cheek. “I look forward to seeing what you choose as your distraction. Try not to do anything fatally stupid.”

“Nothing that could top the Drink of the Deep, certainly,” he murmured, releasing me with obvious reluctance, “but I will aim to do you proud.”

I watched him retrace the steps we had taken into the maze, looking entirely focused on the task at hand. It didn’t matter what the distraction was, only that he needed to be seen by Glenmoor as attempting one.

I turned my own focus back on the thread of scent I needed to guide me through the maze to the exit on its opposite end. Beyond it lay a line of oak trees, and past that, beds of daffodils and an iron fence that ringed the palace—a unique and instantly identifiable combination.

My pulse jumped with excitement as I found the statue of Venia hidden at the maze’s center and continued past her. The scent trail continued, seeming to double back on itself as the correct path looped and twisted, but within minutes, I was greeted by the shadows of the trees, as Hugh had promised.

Clutching my reticule, I hurried along the edge of the festivities, where the torchlight blurred into the night’s darkness, cutting a straight path through the groomed flower beds to the palace. The door was to the left of the grand staircase and had been well disguised by a screen of flowers.

I slowed, allowing several servants with trays of food and sparkling wine to exit through it before I darted inside.

The air was warmer, carrying the essences of countless staff members, the wax of the lit wall sconces, and the savory aroma of tarts. I kept straight on through the servants’ hall until it fed into the familiar one from all those nights ago. I would only need to find the stairs and continue up to the King’s bedchamber—

A rough hand clamped onto my upper arm, and I swung my reticule toward the attacker without thinking. Its pink satin collided with a dark wool uniform. My eyes widened in feigned horror as they drifted up, meeting the grizzled face of a policeman.

“And where is it you think you’re going?” he demanded.

“Let go of me this instant,” I told him, fighting to break his grip. “You have no right—”

“I’ve every right,” he said, flashing his brown teeth with a grin. “You’re the whore who tried to off His Majesty, and now you’ve struck an officer of the law.”

Fear trilled in me, but I gritted my teeth. “You’ll regret this.”

The policeman hauled me bodily after him, laughing at my attempts to kick him. I didn’t recognize where we were going, but the maze of doors and halls eventually gave way to a grand sitting room.

In the daylight, it must have been enchanting with its soaring ceilings and ivory walls with gilt ornamental plaster. At night, however, it took on the grave pallor of a sepulcher—and that was before I saw the duke standing before the drawing room’s towering portrait of Queen Titania.

Glenmoor glanced over his shoulder, his mask dangling by its strings from his fingers. The way his eyes lit at the sight of me sent a bolt of ice through my heart.

“Well, what have we here?” he purred. “A murderess creeping through the halls of the palace . . . where could you have been headed, I wonder?”

The policeman shoved me forward, handing my reticule over to the duke. “She was exactly where you said she’d be.”

My scalp prickled as Glenmoor opened the bag and pulled out the small brown apothecary bottle.

“Wait,” I began, making rather a good show of lunging for it. “Please, don’t . . .”

He pulled it back from my grasp with a disapproving tut and slipped the bottle into the pocket of his jacket.

“Your Grace?” the policeman questioned.

“More poison to finish what she began with the King,” Glenmoor answered smoothly. “You are a witness to this heinous act. Wait outside for me.”

I forced my breathing to slow, my pulse to settle. This was the point, I reminded myself. To make him believe he was getting everything he wanted.