Melody sighed. “Henry, I do not like the deception.”

“These are only words, love, and words shall never harm thee. Words mean nothing. Are we not engaged?”

Jane could hardly hear Melody’s response for the buzzing in her ears. She realized that the fatigue she had so sought was close to overwhelming her, so she tied off the skein and lost sight of them.

“I sometimes wonder if your proposal was nothing more than pretty words.”

“Then let me shew you that I love only you.”

Jane could not let this stand. If there were a time to reveal herself, it was now, before her sister’s honour was completely lost. She clambered to her feet, and the maze reeled about her. Clinging to the shrubs for support, Jane fought to stay conscious.

At the first rustle of branches, the voices in the maze stopped. “Who’s there?” Captain Livingston cried.

Melody gasped. “Mama said there were wolves in the forest. What if they’ve found their way into the maze?”

“There are no wolves in Engl—”

Jane stumbled against the hedge and dropped to her knees in the path.

“Henry! Draw your pistol!”

Jane opened her mouth to call out, but the world tipped sideways, and the ground slammed against her.

Twenty-two

Leaving the Maze

Jane heard the sounds of wolves around her and Melody’s voice crying for help in the distance. Trapped in the branches between hedges, Jane struggled to reach her sister, but the branches dug deeper into her, weaving through her flesh like folds of glamour.

Cracking her eyes, Jane left the dream maze and woke with her face pressed against the gravel of the path. She had not left the maze at all. Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton batting, and her temples throbbed with the lingering effects of her overexertion.

She stiffened. How long had she lain in the path? Her nerves tied themselves into tangled skeins as she realized that gentle light suffused the maze. Beyond the maze, no sounds disturbed the morning, save for the gentle chirp of birds and the rustle of the wind through the shrubbery.

The damp and chill, combined with her own exhaustion, would certainly lead to a fever, and yet Jane wanted nothing more than to lie in the path rather than confront Melody.

The situation was far worse than she had expected. Melody was not merely in a secret engagement, she was engaged to a man who had already engaged himself to another. How was Jane to tell her father? And once he knew, what action could he take? To forbid their engagement, surely. To deny Captain Livingston admittance to their company, of a certainty. But how to do so in such a manner that it would not bring dishonour on their family, or the Dunkirk’s or Lady FitzCameron’s? The Viscountess would certainly not take kindly to the insinuation that her favourite nephew had been making advances that went so far past improper as these. Jane’s stomach twisted.