“Lily Stump!” he roared behind her, but she’d be a fool to stop.
And she was no fool.
She skidded around a corner, nearly barreling into a wide-eyed footman.
“Miss?” he asked, clearly surprised.
“I do beg your pardon,” she gasped, smoothing her skirts. One wasn’t supposed to apologize to servants, she knew, but to hell with that. She smiled at the man—really just a very tall boy. “Where is the ball being held?”
He pointed to the stairs. “Ground floor, ma’am. Shall I show you?”
She beamed at him. “That would be lovely.”
Lily followed the strapping footman down the staircase, never looking back, and now that she was no longer running with her heart beating in her ears, she could hear the music playing.
He bowed at the entrance of the ballroom and she gave him a quick grin in thanks before entering.
The room was lit with dozens of beeswax candles. They, together with the vases of hothouse roses placed around the room, perfumed the air with a sweet stink that was nearly unbearable. It was terribly hot and she wished she had a fan. A glance around showed that Mr. Greaves must have invited quite a few of his neighbors as well as the house party guests, for the ballroom was crowded. She’d hardly taken a step before Mr. Warner appeared before her, asking for a dance.
She was put out—she’d hoped to find Apollo—but she made sure not to let that show on her face. This was part of her job, after all, to entertain the guests.
So she danced a country dance with Mr. Warner, and then another with Mr. MacLeish. By that time she had caught a glimpse of Richard, glowering by the ballroom doors, and decided to head in the opposite direction—toward the wall of French doors that led out to the garden. She was glancing over her shoulder to make sure Richard wasn’t following her when she felt a hand on her wrist.
She was hauled rather unceremoniously onto the slate steps that ran along the back of the house and led into the darkened garden itself.
Lily squeaked and looked up.
Into Apollo’s shadowed face.
“Oh” was, unfortunately, all she could think of to say.
“You look frightened,” he murmured. “Why?”
She smoothed her skirts. “You did just yank me out of the ballroom. Practically a kidnap.”
In the light from the ballroom she thought she saw his lips twitch. “If I’d wanted to kidnap you, I’d’ve thrown you over my shoulder.”
She drew herself up. “What makes you think I’d let you?”
He moved his fingers to her hand and clasped it. “Oh, you would.”
“You’re quite sure of yourself.” She sniffed.
“Mmm.” He pulled gently, leading her down the steps. “I liked your play.”
“Oh.” She could feel herself blushing like a green girl. “Thank you.”
She caught the flash of his teeth as he grinned back at her.
Although the French doors had been open, the party wasn’t meant to spill into the garden, so there were no lanterns. There was a moment beyond the light coming from the windows of the house, in the dark of the garden itself, when she felt quite blind.
“Where are we going?”
“I discovered something this afternoon.” His voice floated back to her on the night breeze. “I wanted to show you.”
It was rather cool and if she hadn’t just been running and then dancing, it might’ve been too cold, but as it was, the night chill was rather nice on her overheated skin.
“Careful,” he whispered as her slippered feet trod on grass. “We’ve left the pavement behind.”