labyrinth of walks.
She couldn’t stop to assess. There was no time. She was most certain, however, that Nell and her friends knew their way exceedingly well through this maze of paths.
Prim swung a right and ran directly into a tall figure.
“Oof!” she cried out, jarred from the impact.
Firm hands came up to her arms, steadying her. She lifted her gaze and the fight went out of her. She almost crumpled against him. Happy tears pricked her eyes.
“Primrose,” Jacob breathed, relief crossing his face. She felt that same sentiment in equal measure, perhaps more, echoing through her.
Simon shouted in the distance behind them. “Where did she go?”
Primrose jerked at the sound—the voice like a physical jab.
Jacob looked over her head. “Who—”
“The footpads. The same two from earlier and a woman.”
“Bloody hell.” He seized her hand and looked around wildly for a moment.
Before she realized his intent, he pulled her after him into the shrubbery.
“Crawl,” he instructed in hushed tones as he dropped down on his knees, clearing the way before them with his bigger body, shoving with bare hands at the leaves springing in their path.
She did as he instructed and scurried after him, no doubt dirtying her beautiful borrowed gown and snagging the fine fabric. She winced, hoping it was not ruined, and then she had to bite back the ridiculous urge to laugh. If it was ruined, would Nell still want it? Whatever the case, a soiled gown was better than no gown at all. Olympia would agree with that.
The branches and leaves loosened up around them, allowing him to turn to face the path. She followed and settled down on her belly beside him.
Propped on their elbows, they stared through the cracks and openings of the branches. The loamy musk of earth filled her nose.
The footpads rounded the corner and stopped.
“She turned this way! I saw ’er, I did!” the familiar voice of Simon insisted.
“Perhap’ she dove into the ’edge,” Nell supplied.
Prim’s heart jumped in her chest and she gave a small gasp at Nell’s unerring guess. The sound escaped louder than she’d intended, and Jacob’s hand quickly covered her mouth.
Her gaze shot to his face, to his dark eyes so close and shining in warning. Their noses almost bumped as they listened to the ruffians a few yards away.
Together, they turned and looked back out at the walk again, watching as one pair of boots, presumably Simon’s, turned to face the hedge where they hid.
“Ye’ want to go up and down, tearing through this long line of shrub looking for ’er when we could be ’unting other nobs?” the second footpad demanded.
“She smacked me in the ’ead,” Simon grumbled. “Dented my ’at. Seems only right that I teach the little witch a lesson.”
Prim flinched and Jacob’s other hand came up to her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“She’s gone,” Nell stated, her voice flatly reasonable.
“Very well. Did ye’ at least finish with the couple tupping in the bushes?”
“Aye, I collected their purses.”
“Good then. Let us go. There be plenty of other quarry about tonight.” There was a low rumble of conversation as their feet started away.
Primrose waited, listening to the sound of their footsteps fading into the distance. She and Jacob remained where they were, cushioned on the soft earth, buried among the leaves, inhaling the pungent earthy air.
The sound of her breaths filled her ears. Jacob’s hand still covered her mouth. Her lips pressed to his palm, as intimate as a kiss, and she felt suddenly, horribly self-conscious, achingly aware of his closeness.
Their proximity alone was a scandal. Everything about this moment . . . about the two of them buried in a hedge on a dark walk, was a perfect scandal and would ruin Prim’s reputation should it ever come to light.
A bubble of laughter welled up in her chest. She giggled against his hand. She could not help it. It was the height of absurdity. She was hiding in the bushes with a nob. She had lost her best friend in a tavern brawl, been accosted by footpads, and now she was rolling around on the ground with a blueblood, soiling her gown. Giggles were hard to fight.
She doubted he had ever sullied himself in such a manner before. At least not since he was a lad in leading strings, his nurse trying unsuccessfully to keep him from falling to the ground.
His eyes widened at her muffled giggles and then he laughed, too—a low, deep chuckle that turned her skin to gooseflesh. His hand