Bitterness lodged in the back of his throat. He coughed quietly, then resumed searching for her.

His efforts were rewarded only a moment later. Leah followed Lady Chesterfield into the room, a delicate smile on her face. A footman took her wrap, revealing her creamy shoulders and smooth arms, framed as they were by the delicate ivory lace of her dress. She laughed at something Lady Chesterfield said, tilting her head back in abandon, revealing the slender column he’d love to kiss.

Lord, she was beautiful.

He curled his fingers into a fist as he fought the urge to go to her. He was nothing to her, nothing at all. She was here for the duke. And he was only here to see that she remained unharmed by Prachett or his men.

They couldn’t know that this glittering debutante was the maid from Granville House, could they?

The rain had stopped, but the air was cold, thick, and damp. Music started in the house, the plaintive sound of a pianoforte seeming to echo the strain in his chest.

He slapped his hand against the brick.

Thinking of her was such foolishness. Why perpetuate a fantasy?

Avery turned and looked through the window once more. She stood at the back of the room, a polite smile on her face as she addressed the gentleman next to her. His stomach dropped. The gentleman next to her was none other than his employer. The man she seemed determined to catch.

Jealousy roared through Avery. He dug his fingers into the brick, gritting his teeth so hard they ached. He could not tear his gaze away from the couple.

Why should he care? Granville was a gentleman, despite his age, and would make an exemplary match for Miss Ramsey. He’d always been kind to Avery. So why did Avery want nothing more than to rip her away from the duke’s side?

The song ended, and a polite smattering of applause sounded.

He spent nearly an hour by the bush in the back garden, growing more and more angry as Leah remained by the duke’s side. Avery’s employer took a glass of ratafia from a passing servant and offered it to her. A cold wind kissed Avery’s burning skin, but it did nothing to cool his rage at the sight of the duke’s hand brushing Leah’s. She blushed, smiling down at the glass in her gloved hands.

Damn it.

It should be Avery she smiled at, Avery touching her.

He snarled as he ripped the bush beside him out of the ground, spraying damp earth in all directions.

When the haze lifted, he realized his hands were cut and bleeding. The holly’s sharp edges had punished his impetuous actions with aplomb—and the Watersons’ poor gardener would have an apoplexy.

He knelt in the damp earth, replacing the battered bush as best he could. Would his rages ever be controlled? Would he ever be the master of his own mind and body?

He flexed his sore palms, ignoring the trickles of blood that dripped to the ground below. His gaze locked on the group inside. The duke had moved to another part of the room. He stood by the front door, but where was Leah?

Avery’s heart raced as he desperately scanned the room for her. Where had she gone? He must find her before someone else did.

The squeak of a nearby door’s hinges chased him behind the mangled bush. He crouched low. Footsteps echoed on marble, disappearing only a moment later. Someone descending the stairs into the garden?

Maintaining his crouch and ignoring his protesting muscles, Avery ran alongside the manor toward the back garden. He had a feeling that the person wandering there alone just may be the woman he’d been searching for.

He bolted for a stone statue of a Greek warrior and knelt in the shadows cast by the lights of the manor’s windows. His breath caught in his throat as the clouds moved past the moon, shining soft light down on her.

Her gown glowed, almost as if she were a celestial being. Her hair, a golden tumble of curls and braids, absorbed the moonlight, mesmerizing him. She shivered, rubbing her gloved hand on her bare upper arm. The longing seated deep in his chest intensified so much that he stood, intending to run to her. The aching pain in his body returned to remind him why that was impossible, but his heavy breath did not go unnoticed.

Leah turned abruptly, bright eyes wary. “Hello? Is somebody out here?”

Blast and damn. He stayed in the shadows, willing her to go back into the house, to remain in the safety of company. He could not go to her, not here.

“I know you’re out here. I can hear you breathing.” Her voice came louder as she drew closer. He flattened his back against the statue’s legs. She must not find him here. She must not…

“Avery?”

His eyes flew open. There she was, the woman of his dreams, the one who haunted his waking hours. The one he could not touch, not under any circumstances. His one lapse would have to last him a lifetime.

“Miss Ramsey,” he croaked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Miss Ramsey. You must return to the house. You are not safe here.”

“Avery, are you okay?” She reached out for him, but he dodged her hand, making sure to stay in darkness. “I can’t really see you, but you don’t sound all that good.”

“I am well. Please return to the house.” Please, because I long to draw you into my arms, to make you my own. But you are so much more, need so much more than I can give. I’ve endangered you.

She propped her hands on her hips, giving him a cross look. “Bullshit. Get over here where I can see you.”

He shook his head. Maddening, infuriating, beautiful woman. “I cannot be seen. I do not have permission to be here. Return to the house. It is not safe for a female to wander outside alone.”

“I’m not alone,” she whispered, joining him in shadow. “You’re here with me.”

He turned away, though her words warmed him with violent hope. She must not see his face.

“You’ll be missed.”

She laughed softly. “I don’t care.”

He kept watch out of the corner of his eye. She stared at his face, squinting through the darkness. The moment her eyes adjusted to the dimness and she realized his injuries, horror painted her features and stabbed his heart.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, stepping close to him. “You…you’ve been…”

“My dear Miss Ram,” Lady Chesterfield called from the balcony. “Where have you got to, dear child?”

Leah tossed a look over her shoulder, and he took advantage of her distraction to look his fill. The delicate lace of her gown only hinted at her womanly charms, but the innocent décolletage flamed his interest as much as a daring gown would have. The ivory color only accented her porcelain skin, pinkened her lips and cheeks, and set off her golden hair to perfection. She was as close to an angel on earth as had ever lived, and she deserved the best man life could offer her.

“That’s me,” Leah griped as she turned back to him. “We had to pick a name so nobody could connect the dots to the maid at Granville House.”

He stifled his sigh of relief.

“Miss Ram?” Footsteps echoed on the marble steps to the garden.

“Go,” he said quietly, and though it cost him dearly, he gently pushed her toward the house. She stumbled from the darkness as he melted backward.

Lady Chesterfield’s cry was nothing if not glad. “My dear, there you are. Lord Granville is searching high and low for you. Come, we mustn’t keep him waiting.”

Avery watched from the cover of the statue as Lady Chesterfield and Leah disappeared into the house. His chest burned with an intense ache he couldn’t place, but he knew its cause.

He could not speak with her again. It was much too painful. He’d only brought trouble on her. He’d keep watch from afar and count himself blessed that he had met her at all.

* * *

“What a naughty girl to disappear in the middle of a performance,” Lady Chesterfield clucked as she pulled Leah back toward the house. “I declare it is as if you’ve no interest in His Grace at all.”

“That’s not it, Lady Chesterfield,” Leah protested lamely. “I just had a headache and needed a little air, that’s all.”

“Well, we must return before his interest wanes. Good heavens, did you injure yourself?”

Leah looked over her shoulder where Lady Chesterfield was mopping at a blood spot on the shoulder of her beautiful gown. The same shoulder where Avery had touched only a second ago. What had happened to him?

“It was just a bug bite that I scratched too hard,” she said as Lady Chesterfield fussed. “It’s not bad, I promise.”

“You must be more careful, dear.” Lady Chesterfield removed her own shawl and placed it over Leah’s now-spotted dress. “Now, we must find His Grace.”

Lady Chesterfield’s winning smile and wink couldn’t remove Leah’s uncertainty. God, she wanted nothing more than to run out there and check on Avery. His face had seemed swollen, discolored even. It was so hard to see in the shadows, which he’d probably planned. She rubbed the shoulder he’d just touched. That was his blood. He’d been hurt and refused to show her.

“Miss Ram.” His Grace’s voice melted over her like warm butter. Distracted for a moment, she turned to him. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he sounded a lot like her grandfather would if Pawpaw had a British accent. “I trust you are well.”

Leah opened her mouth to answer, but Lady Chesterfield beat her to it. “Of course she is, Your Grace. I was just telling my dear niece about your new phaeton. It sounds lovely.”

If Leah didn’t know better, she could have sworn Lady Chesterfield had just fluttered her lashes at the duke. Leah stared harder. Nope, no question. Definite lash fluttering.