It was breathtaking.

Amy’s eyes glazed over the wondrous assortment of brilliant flowers, shrubs, tart fruit trees, and vegetable gardens: thirty-three acres of carefully cultivated land, leased from the Duke of Devonshire. Tents exhibited the finest fruits imported from around the world, hothouses protected the most delicate blooms that had traveled from various foreign climates.

It was the Horticultural Society’s first-ever fete. The duke had even opened his own private gardens to the inquisitive public, who numbered in the thousands. Refreshment stands suffered under the demand for sweet juices as a series of army bands entertained the strolling guests.

It was dusk, the gardens brimming with candles in little glass orbs hanging from trees. Amy had walked the grounds all day, yet she wasn’t fatigued. She was amazed. She wanted to take in every lovely spectacle. She wasn’t accustomed to such natural splendor. She was accustomed to soiled streets and noisy thorough-fares and putrid stenches. The estate, so vivid, captured her imagination in such a profound manner, she’d neglected the real reason she was there: to practice the art of being a proper lady.

He rubbed against her…unintentionally, she hoped. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted his towering figure at her backside. One look at the handsome scoundrel and the gardens seemed dull in comparison. Her heartbeat quickened. She looked away again before Edmund sensed her unladylike stare.

“Look, James,” said Sophia, an exotic-looking woman in her late twenties. She was dressed in a lily white frock with long sleeves. She had no jewelry or fancy headgear. Her dark brown hair was twisted into a charming swirl, a loose curl brushing her shoulder as she paused and examined a pristine white blossom with a burning red center. “Do you remember this orchid?”

The party was exploring a particular glass hothouse showcasing unique species of flora from the West Indies, where Sophia and her husband had first met.

James fingered the fragile petals with sensitivity, a faint smile touching his stern lips. “Aye, I remember. There was one just like it in the garden at the plantation house.”

Amy stilled at the scoundrel’s approach. His musk filled her lungs, making her woozy. The spicy scent mingled with the floral fragrances to create an intoxicating mixture for the senses.

“It’s odd, isn’t it?”

She shivered at the whispered words pressed warmly into her ear.

“Seeing James like that?”

He sounded just as flummoxed as she was about the captain’s easy manner.

“Happy, you mean?”

“Pleasant,” he said.

She smiled wryly.

“Look here, Amy.”

Sophia gestured with her hand, bidding her toward a magnificent tree with lavender-colored blossoms. The flagstone walkway was peppered with falling purple petals as pretty as fresh snow.

“The blossom of the lignum vitae is Jamaica’s national flower,” she said, caressing a low-hanging branch with tenderness.

The woman was a botanist at heart, according to Edmund, and Amy was keen to listen to her tales about faraway lands and foreign wonders, but a part of Amy was also guarded, for she distrusted the peculiar woman. She had married James, after all. There had to be something amiss about her character.

“I see my dress fits you well, Amy.”

Amy strolled alongside her chaperone as the gentlemen partnered behind them.

“Yes, it fits me very comfortably,” she said, smoothing the eggshell white skirt. “Thank you.”

The wardrobe Quincy had arranged for her had yet to be delivered. She had been measured for the new attire, but it would take time for the clothing to be prepared.

Sophia slipped her hand through Amy’s arm. She detected the soft scent of bay rum shampoo in the older woman’s dark brown coiffure. It was an agreeable scent.

“How are you feeling, Amy?”

“A little overwhelmed,” she admitted unenthusiastically.

Sophia smiled. “I was, too, when I first arrived in England from the Caribbean.”

“You’ve adapted well. I mean, you’re a respectable member of society.”

She scoffed, startling Amy.

“Respectable? I’m wed to the city’s most infamous rogue.”

Amy paled at the ghastly remark, glancing at the other spectators who traversed the exhibit grounds, but most were too engrossed by the unique specimens to take notice of their party.

“Well, he’s not such a pariah anymore,” she said with a smoky chortle. “He saved me from a band of dastardly pirates, you know.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “He did?”

“Oh yes.” She smiled coyly. “I was kidnapped by the dreaded pirate Black Hawk. It was in all the papers.”

“I remember now.” Amy was a bit giddy. “There was a daring rescue at sea. It was much gossiped about.”

She nodded. “James saved me from a wretched fate and destroyed the notorious brigand’s ship, sending him and his scalawag crew to a watery grave.”

Amy heard the aforementioned hero snort at their backsides. She ignored the uncouth gesture, greatly intrigued by Sophia’s swashbuckling tale, for she wasn’t one to embark on an adventure herself; she was far too sensible to do that. She enjoyed hearing about scandalous exploits, though. And the strange couple’s pairing seemed so much more sensible to her now. Sophia had accepted her savior’s hand in marriage. It happened all the time, Amy was sure.

“And Edmund was a part of the brave crew,” said Sophia. “Did you know?”

Amy glanced over her shoulder. “You’ve hunted pirates?”

Edmund shrugged.

Not surprising, that.

“The ton was very gracious toward the valiant Captain James Hawkins and his crew after my rescue…though not everyone likes my husband, even now.”

“But you do?”

Amy blushed. She sensed the heat creeping into her cheeks, and bristled at the unsavory thought that the captain had heard her boorish remark. If he had, he politely refrained from commenting about it. Sophia, on the other hand, laughed. She didn’t seem slighted at Amy’s unintentional rudeness.

“I like him sometimes.” There was a wicked gleam in her deep brown eyes. “But most of the time, I just want to make him miserable.”

Amy sensed her chaperone was the sort of woman who, when piqued, was vindictive. She had no desire to make any further social blunders and arouse the woman’s wrath. She was also more understanding about James’s reason for naming the pet serpent after his wife.

The couples departed the hothouse and entered the crisp spring air. It was early May, the nights still fresh. They ambled the lush grounds at leisure, taking in the aromas, the quaint tunes, and the pruned gardens.

Amy wrapped the white fringed shawl more tightly around her shoulders as she traversed the well-manicured turf with Edmund.

“When will I be settled in my new position, do you think?”

“There’s still more to teach you about being a lady.”

“Your brother Quincy thinks I’m charming.”

“He thinks every female is charming…besides, he wasn’t here to hear your scandalous remark.”

Amy blushed.

He smiled. “I’m sure wives beat their husbands over the head with rolling pins in the rookeries, but here in society, wives don’t admit to disliking their husbands—even if they do.”

As her cheeks pinkened even more, she said tartly, “What is the plan to see me settled as a lady’s maid or companion?”

He nudged her, steered her along a torch-lit path between a colonnade of oak trees. “You’re very impatient.”

She peeked over her shoulder and spotted James and Sophia engaged in deep conversation, trailing after them.

“Are you afraid of my brother and sister-in-law?” he said in a low voice.

“No,” she insisted…though there was something dark about Sophia’s nature that reminded Amy of Madame Rafaramanjaka. And what about James? He seemed unperturbed by his wife’s wish to make him miserable.

“The couple are serving as chaperones, is all.”

“Aha.” He chuckled. “You’re guarding your virtue.” He murmured, “That’s very wise, Amy.”

She sensed the heat in her belly; it spread from her core and touched her fingertips and toes. He nettled her senses, making her more sentient of her surroundings: the crackling torchlight, the twinkling candlelight in the glass orbs. She was walking through a faerie-filled wood, it seemed…with a handsome scoundrel.

“I’m not impatient,” she insisted, keeping the conversation more respectable.

“You always need to be in control of the situation.” He brushed her elbow. “I remember.”

She shivered, the touch light yet so full of bubbling energy. “Well, I can’t run away at sea, looking for adventure,” she snapped. “I have to be in control of the situation; I have to confront my troubles.”

He was quiet.

Amy’s cheeks warmed again. What the devil was the matter with her? She hadn’t meant to be so churlish, but he had smothered her natural tendencies to mistrust with his easy manner and smooth words. If she wasn’t vigilant, he’d tease and twist her senses until he had manipulated her movements like a marionette master.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” he said softly. “Running away? Seeking adventure?”

“Isn’t it?”

He kicked a pebble. “I’m looking for something at sea, but it’s not adventure—not anymore—though there is plenty of it.”

Am image entered her head: taut, naked skin with white lines. “The scars?”

He rubbed his belly. As his fingers ruffled his garment, the intimate gesture warmed her innards.

She flushed and bowed her head. “How did you get the scars?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know; there’ve been so many skirmishes.”

“Hunting pirates. Fighting slavers.” She peeked at him askance. “Are you sure you’re not looking for adventure at sea?”

He seemed thoughtful, his expression somber. “I remember the first time I boarded a slaver. I had trained and prepared for my duties, but…sometimes the unexpected happens, Amy.”

She studied his earnest profile, detected his muscles as they stiffened. She wondered about the unexpected happenings at sea, but she refrained from commenting about them. He wasn’t prepared to share the ordeal with her, she suspected. He wasn’t a gossip like his younger brother.

“Don’t fret, Amy.” As he gathered his features, he offered her a small smile. “Once you’re better prepared, I’ll ask my sister to make inquiries in society about matrons or young ladies in need of a companion. I’m sure she will find you an acceptable post.”

“She’s very kind to do so, I’m sure.” At his silence, she frowned. “You haven’t told her about me, have you?”

He shrugged.

“Why?”

“She’s much to look after at home: a rogue for a husband, a disobedient daughter.”

“If she’s overwhelmed with domestic duties, what makes you think she’ll assist me: a stranger?”

“Because I’ll ask her for help,” he said with confidence.

Amy looked away, an unfamiliar smarting in her breast. She had no one in her life who’d offer her aid with such assurance, and she keenly felt the aloneness.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Rose!”

A child danced in the dirt path far ahead of Amy and Edmund, her small figure aglow in the torchlight like an angel.

“Come away from there, Rose! You’ll soil your new dress!”

The little girl was ushered away by the scolding matron. The scene triggered a flash of color, sound, and feeling in Amy’s breast. She stilled.

“Come away from there, Amy!”

A soft skirt brushed her cheek. A warm, gloved hand circled her fingers.

“It’s bedtime, Amy. Oh, look at your shoes.” She tsked. “I’ll have to change you now. Papa and I will be late for the party.”

Amy pouted. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

The tall figure sighed, petticoats swooshing. “I’m afraid I’ll have to punish you, young lady.”

Amy pinched her lips and squinted her eyes in anticipation of a sound reprimand…but the figure scooped her up into her arms and showered her with kisses instead.

“I shall torment you with kisses!”

Amy squealed with laughter.

“What’s the matter, Amy?”

Edmund’s strong voice penetrated her wistful memories, half shadows after so many years. She sniffed, confounded by the show of emotion that had unexpectedly overwhelmed her.

She took in a deep breath and shooed the hazy visions away. “It’s nothing, really. I just remembered my mother. She once scolded me like that, too.”

“You remember your mother?”

He seemed pensive, as if he had no memory of his own mother, and Amy’s heart cramped at the thought that they shared a common, tragic past.

“Not really,” she admitted sadly as she resumed her steps. “I mean, I have flashes of her: her voice, her scent, her touch. But I don’t remember her face. I don’t really remember her.”

“I was two years old when my mother passed away. How old were you when your parents died?”

She shrugged. “About six, I think.”

“How did they perish?”

The masked devils on horseback filled Amy’s head. She remembered the stomping hooves and sinister shouts and rough handling as she was dragged away from her comfortable haven, her home, in the dead of night. The images still twisted in her heart, snatched her breath away.

She stilled, disoriented. She examined her unusually quiet surroundings, another distressing thought taking root in her mind.

“Where are James and Sophia?”

The woods were deserted, the dirt trail illuminated with a few torches. There was still the distant hum of voices, but the physical isolation was far too disconcerting for Amy.

She grabbed one side of her long white skirt, prepared to dash through the greenery, when Edmund captured her wrist in his robust hand.

“Don’t worry, Amy.”

The low light caressed his rugged features, making him even more attractive—and making her heart beat even harder.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered.

She wasn’t so convinced of his gallantry. How had he maneuvered her into such a private nook? And without her being aware of it?

“We should look for your brother and sister-in-law,” she said in a rushed voice, jerking her wrist. “How will we get home without their carriage? What if I’m spotted alone with you, and I’m ruined?”

“Shhh.” He pushed her against a tree, effectively curtailing her outburst. “Nobody knows who you are, Amy. You won’t be ruined.”

As he placed his hands on her hips, drawing her eyes to his lips with his lazy smile, Amy suspected she was doomed.

“You should learn to have more fun,” he whispered, “to be spontaneous.”

The feathery strokes across her waist bewitched her thoughts, and she stared at him with bated breath, her pulses tapping in quick succession.

“There’s more to life than rules and being in control,” he murmured in a smoky drawl.

Aye, she suspected there was, but it was a miserable existence, teeming with debauchery and sin and ruin. She had to keep to her planned heading or she might lose her way and never find peace.

The scoundrel’s warm embrace was tempting, though, teasing her mercilessly, dangerously off course. The man’s warm, sturdy touch; his scent, smoky sandalwood; his soulful blue eyes…and damn kissable lips whetted her senses, her yearnings.

“Stop trying to fight Fate, Amy.”

He beckoned her inside his soul. He charmed her—and she let him, the stiffness in her bones ebbing away as he pressed his sinewy muscles against her midriff, making her sigh.

“Enjoy life…and where it takes you.”

She bristled at the sultry words; they shattered the daze she was in. As her wits returned, she curled her fingers into a firm fist, aimed for his chin—and punched.

He had anticipated her violent outburst, though. He blocked her wrist, bringing the assault to an untimely end.

“Can you do that, Amy?”

She gasped as he cupped her cheeks in both his large palms, bringing his lips even closer to her parted mouth.

“Can you let spontaneity into your soul?”

Every heartbeat pinched her breastbone, her every muscle was tight and thrumming.

“No,” she whispered.

“That’s a shame.” He nuzzled her lips with his mouth. “A surprise can be wonderful…if you let it be, Amy.”

Her toes curled in her leather walking boots. An unfamiliar sound, akin to a moan, welled in her throat, as a pair of seductive lips bussed her mouth. It was a soft caress, a light, ethereal touch, but it singed her blood with its heat and tenderness. Tendrils of pleasure wrapped her limbs in a tight embrace, the feeling ever so…wonderful.

“Was that so bad, Amy?”

She had closed her eyes at the fleeting kiss. She opened them again, lashes fluttering, as she gazed at him through a sheen of hazy light and briny moisture. Her heart ballooned, pumped with vigor like a steam engine. Her lungs expanded as she searched for more air.

“No,” she admitted hoarsely. “That wasn’t so bad.”

He offered her a small smile; the gesture transformed the entire scope of his otherwise moody features, warming her belly.

As his rough hands slipped away from her flushed cheeks, she shuddered in disappointment, a darkness filling her, an unexpected loneliness.

She was accustomed to a solitary existence; she didn’t mind her own company, but the brief, intimate kiss she had shared with Edmund had opened a door for her: a door into life, where everyone else played and laughed and made love. He had shut that door as soon as he had parted from her, plunking her back into the cold, friendless world she had lived in for so long.

“Amy?” He frowned and reached for her again. “What’s—?”

“Edmund!”

The sharp reprimanded startled Amy, who quickly adjusted her shawl. She glanced at the towering, disapproving figure of Captain James Hawkins. He was making his way through the misty darkness, his cross-looking wife at his side.

“What do you think you’re doing?” demanded James.

Amy flushed. The captain had directed the brusque inquiry toward his brother, however, she had sensed the accusation just as keenly.

Had the couple witnessed their improper kiss? The sanctuary of the dark woods looked ever so appealing to Amy in that uncomfortable moment.

Edmund’s carriage dramatically changed. She noted the man’s lazy stance was gone. He maintained a more rigid posture as he glared at his older brother.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he said lowly, ominously.

“You disappeared with Miss Peel.”

“We were separated,” he countered. “It’s dark.”

James glowered. “You should have been paying better attention to your surroundings.”

“You should have been paying better attention to yours.” He taunted the barbarian with a raised brow. “You are the chaperone.”

Amy took in a swift breath, for she suspected the hot-tempered brothers might come to scandalous blows right there in the shrubbery.

“There’s no harm done.” Sophia stepped—wedged herself—between the two strong bodies, deftly bringing the antagonism to an end. “It’s easy to get lost in such a wonderland. We shall all be more vigilant as we make our way back to the carriage. Come, Miss Peel.” She smiled and took her charge by the arm. “You’ve been on your feet all day. Let’s get you home.”

The journey to St. James was largely passed in silence. Sophia commented on various topics regarding their sojourn, but the rest of the party remained quiet.

Amy, seated beside Sophia, glanced apprehensively at the brothers, who were stationed across from her. The men were staring out the windows in opposite directions, and it was a great relief when the vehicle rolled to a steady halt in front of the prestigious address.

The gentlemen exited the carriage first before assisting the ladies as a strong wind bustled through the quiet thoroughfare.

Edmund quickly turned toward his sister-in-law. “Good evening, Sophia.” He bowed. “Thank you for the pleasant excursion.”

The sassy woman lifted a dark brow. “Oh? Are we not invited inside?”

“It’s late,” Edmund said stiffly. “I think a storm is coming, too.”

James swaggered toward the door. “Well, I’d like a nightcap.”

Sophia smiled impishly and followed her husband, leaving a disgruntled Edmund staring after them.

Amy watched as the couple entered the town house, then glanced at Edmund. He was still gazing at the headstrong pair, his features taut. She wasn’t thrilled about joining the Hawkinses for a nightcap, either. There was still the matter of the mortifying kiss…but perhaps Sophia and James hadn’t witnessed the private moment. After all, the duo hadn’t mentioned a word about it during the carriage ride home.

“Shall we follow them inside?” whispered Amy.

Edmund looked at her in surprise. “Yes, of course. After you, Amy.”

Inside the town house, James was already waiting for them. He had propped a shoulder against the wall and was regarding them both with a stern expression.

“I’d like a private word with you, Eddie.”

Amy wanted to groan. She suppressed the impulse. The couple had observed the scandalous kiss. Why else would the captain want a “private” word with his brother?

It would do her no good to whine about the matter. She had other, fretful thoughts to consider, like what was going to become of her now? Would James insist Edmund boot her from the house for her unladylike behavior? The brothers had to protect their sister, the Duchess of Wembury, from any whispers of impropriety. And Amy’s late-night smooch with Edmund smacked of impropriety.

Edmund shrugged. “Fine.”

“Shall we talk in the study?” suggested James.

“You know the way.”

James looked at his wife. “We’ll join you and Miss Peel in the sitting room for a nightcap.”

Sophia nodded. “We’ll see you both soon.”

The men departed together, Amy gazing after their solid figures, her heart sinking into her belly. She would never be ruled by spontaneity again! she vowed. She also vowed to bloody Edmund’s lip at the first opportunity; the scoundrel deserved it.

“Well, I’m parched,” said Sophia.

Amy’s throat was constricted as well, but for a very different reason. She silently trailed after Sophia. Amy wasn’t even sure why the woman insisted on the pretense of a nightcap. Perhaps she enjoyed tormenting Amy, as the queen had done in the past? Sophia wanted to make her husband “miserable,” after all.

But Amy didn’t have too much time to think about the distressing situation, for the butler soon rushed into the great hall and arrested the brothers. He furtively conversed with the pair, and Amy watched as their expressions slowly darkened.

“Where is he?” demanded James.

“In the study, sir.”

The brothers thundered toward the room.

Amy’s pulse quickened. “What’s wrong?”

Sophia frowned. “I’m not sure.”

The other woman started for the study, too.

Amy remained standing in the great hall. Should she follow her chaperone? She wasn’t part of the family. It wasn’t right for her to meddle in their personal affairs…however, the sensational commotion was too tempting to resist, and she swiped the side of her flowing skirt, bustling toward the noise.

She stopped outside the door and peeked over Sophia’s shoulder. Inside the study, she spied a sickly-looking Quincy prostrated across the patterned carpet, William kneeling at his side.

Amy’s heart ballooned. She swiftly covered her mouth with her palm. The poor scamp! Was he dead? Good God, what had happened?

“Blimey!” James dropped beside Quincy and grabbed him by the shirt, shaking him violently. “When will you stop!”

“I’m sorry, James,” he moaned weakly.

Amy sighed. The scamp was still alive!

Edmund looked at her with a forlorn expression before he shut the door, excluding her and Sophia from the dreadful scene.

The butler respectfully took himself off, but Amy remained in the passageway; she wondered aloud:

“What’s the matter with Quincy?”

Sophia walked away from the door. There was a stiffness in her spine that suggested she, too, wanted to be inside the room, that she wanted to offer assistance.

“He’s fighting demons.”

Amy fell in step beside her. “What sorts of demons?”

“I don’t know,” she returned quietly.

“Should we send for a doctor?”

“A doctor cannot heal him. Come. Let’s wait in the sitting room for news.”