Mallory stepped out the door and into the bright sun, bringing her arm up to shield her eyes from the harsh glare as her vision adjusted. Pushing the door shut, she leaned against the rough surface as the scents from the garden invaded her senses. The smell of hellebore roses, or the Christmas roses as Aunt Hettie fondly called them, drifted on the light breeze as the sun crested above in the cloudless sky. The outdoors normally brought with it a feeling of peace and rightness—being surrounded by so many lovely, growing things.

However, after her morning in Felicity’s lab, it only brought to mind that which was gone forever, never to return, never to draw breath, never to live again.

Her dear friend had taken to the notion of using alchemy to bring her guardian, Lady Tetbery, back to life. It was a fool’s errand. Anyone with an ounce of sense would know working with ancient tomes, the mythical Philosopher’s Stone, and combining oddly scented chemicals would not return the countess to life. She was gone, deceased all these months. It was no wonder Mallory could not put the visions of strange symbols from her mind.

In the end, Felicity would fail, Lady Tetbery would never walk the grounds of her Cornwall estate again, and Mallory would need to be there for her dear friend when she grieved the loss of her guardian all over again.

Mallory pushed away from the door leading down into Felicity’s lab, determined not to dwell on the pain destined to come for her friend.

She hadn’t even time to speak with Felicity about what she’d learned at Castle Keyvnor the previous day. How insignificant was it that Mallory sought her friend’s ear to speak of her troubles with her betrothed, while Felicity had lost her guardian, was about to lose the only home she’d ever known, and the man responsible was darkening the halls of Tetbery at every turn?

Walking across the small, fenced-in garden, Mallory lightly caressed the pale pink petals of a winter rose, her touch soft enough not to disturb the precious blossom. How uncomplicated the life of a hellebore rose was, coming into full bloom during the dreariest months before wilting as the warm springtime heat bore down on them…only to return once the weather turned cold again. She envied the blossom’s ability to know its place, the proper time to show its beauty, and when to hide from the world.

Perhaps it would have been best for Mallory to stay at her family estate until the time for her wedding arrived. She would not have known the trivial way her father had bartered his only daughter—to a man he’d not so much as met. Lord Lichfield would have had no reason to deceive her either. Yet, that had been a decision he’d knowingly made. Did he think her so petty and lacking in compassion that the state of his relationship with his family would matter?

From what the countess shared, Silas was in no way responsible for the separation between his mother and her family. Neither did that estrangement cast a cloud of scandal in Mallory’s eye. Silas hadn’t proven ungentlemanly in any way since their meeting. In fact, he’d shown himself to be the opposite.

Besides, hadn’t she been keeping her own secrets?

And what she kept hidden from him was in many ways far more scandalous than an estranged family.

Releasing the blossom and moving away from the foliage that disguised the door, Mallory sagged on the low stone wall facing the long drive that ended at the main road. Her aunt was in a hurry to depart Tetbery Estate and return to their home. Mallory was not so certain they should leave now, especially with the countess having invited her to celebrate the holiday at Keyvnor. No one awaited their return to Blenheim Park as her father rarely journeyed to the country, and her brother would likely spend his time with his latest mistress in town.

She hesitated to return to the main house, lingering ever longer in the lush, concealed garden. Solitude had been hard to come by since her arrival at Tetbery, and Mallory had refrained from claiming another headache.

Maybe she could remain hidden in the garden for a while longer.

Gazing out over the vast land surrounding the estate, Mallory wondered what it would be like to have her own home, land, and life. Free from her aunt’s watchful eye, and away from the whispered proclamations that she’d been cursed. It was likely that if her betrothal to Silas were called off, she’d never know such independence. A part of her sensed that Silas would not treat her as her father and brother did. He would not tread lightly in her presence, nor eschew physical contact with her.

Yet, another part of her—possibly a larger part—was well aware that she did not know the man well. He could be lying about other things—more important aspects of his life than had been discovered.

Truly, his deception had harmed no one, least of all her. There were many things she was embarrassed to admit about her life, why would Silas be any different? Because he was a man? An earl, no less?

Mallory raised her hand to shield her eyes as a lone man on horseback came into view, a large cloud of dust following him. The Duke of Wycliffe must be returning from town or the castle. As the rider drew closer, Mallory raised her hand and waved. Despite Felicity and Aunt Hettie’s feelings about the duke, Mallory thought him an agreeable man and a kind host.

His appearance brought to mind the vision Mallory had seen upon greeting Felicity. While her friend had yet to speak of it at any length, Mallory knew the two had kissed—in Felicity’s lab, no less.

The rider took note of her and angled his mount away from the front entrance and toward the small garden pressed close to the side of the manor.

Her stomach sank when the man pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted.

It was not the duke, but Silas.

And she could not deny his look of displeasure.

“My lord,” she called, swallowing past the lump that’d settled in her throat. “I did not expect to see you again.”

His brow rose, and she knew he’d misinterpreted her greeting.

“What I meant was that I hadn’t expected to see you again at Tetbery Estate.”

“Because you thought to visit me at Keyvnor again?” He did not pause to see her reaction but quickly tied his reins to a branch that hung low by the garden wall before flipping the latch on the gate and entering the garden. “I am sorry if I disappointed you.”

Disappoint? Mallory stared at him to see if his words were meant to be a jest, but he turned serious eyes on her. “Pardon, my lord?”

“I have come from the castle. My aunt, the countess, spoke of your visit.” He paced around the garden, avoiding her stare as he walked in a seemingly aimless pattern.

“I did not mean to cause any trouble—”

“It is not your fault.” He finally turned toward her and placed his arm to his chest. “It is I who lied, Lady Mallory, and for that, I am eternally remorseful.”

Mallory blinked several times. He was apologizing to her?

“May I ask why you deceived me?” The question was risky. He could refuse to answer and depart. “If it is not too forward of me.”

He watched her as if determining whether she was worth the added effort of an explanation. “My mother raised us in Paris, as you know, but something you may not know, is to do that, she fled England under cover of night and never spoke to my father again.” He ran his fingers through the curls atop his head, a gesture that was not so much born out of frustration as she’d first suspected, but unease.

He was preparing to share something with her he hadn’t told anyone—or at least not recently. The tension in his shoulders lent evidence to that, as well as the hard set of his jaw.

If he could share a bit of himself, then Mallory could share something more, as well.

Certainly not everything about her gift, but maybe enough to keep him vigilant, concerned for his safety.

His lips moved to speak, but a loud rumble shook the ground beneath them. Thrown off balance, Mallory stumbled toward Silas, her arms pin-wheeling when her boot became tangled in her skirts. She was going to fall, face first into the mossy garden ground, or worse, hit her head on the stone wall.

Mallory clamped her eyes shut tightly. She could not bear to see what came next.

One minute, there was nothing but frigid December air surrounding her, and the next…her head was swimming. Though not due to being knocked senseless, as she was still upright. Despite her eyes remaining closed, she knew she was not on the ground. However, she was pressed against something solid

Lifting her hands, Mallory ran her fingers across a smoothly muscled chest and continued upward to graze taut, broad shoulders.

Lord Lichfield’s.

Mallory titled up her chin ever so slightly, suspecting if she opened her eyes—which she certainly was not prepared to do—she’d stare directly up into intense blue pools.

Her lips parted, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but the words never made it to her throat as Silas’s warm exhale cascaded against her cheek, banishing any cold that lingered within her.

He was so close. There was no need to open her eyes to see that his mouth was only an inch from hers. She could all but feel him.

“Thank yo—”

Her appreciation for his quick movements to steady her was cut off when his lips captured hers. Blessedly smooth, strong lips. Warm. Eager. Moist.

This…this physical connection wasn’t anything she’d allowed herself before. There was too much risk.

As if on cue, she opened her eyes, and they immediately began to cloud. The edges of her sight blurred at the same time she raised her hands from Silas’s shoulders to cup his face.

Damnation. If she were going to be cursed with a vision at the exact moment of her first kiss, she would at least enjoy the feeling of him for a brief instant. Even through her gloves, she knew his skin was smooth and firm across his angled jaw.

His mouth danced across hers.

Mallory’s entire body trembled, and his sinewy arms came to wrap around her waist, catching her before her knees collapsed beneath her, bringing their bodies ever closer.

The vision was upon her. Her head began to spin, and nothing before her remained in focus. His lips caressed hers, the warmth of his arms held her tightly to his chest, and his woodsy scent filled her other senses.

Space…she needed distance to collect her thoughts, banish whatever horrid vision was struggling to capture her, and—

The late-morning air filled with the acidic smell of fire.

Mallory released her hold on his face and stepped back at the same moment his arms fell to his sides.

She pivoted quickly, her heart racing from their embrace as she blinked several times to clear her sight. Smoke billowed through the cracks of the partially hidden door to Felicity’s laboratory.

“Felicity!” Her dear friend had been working in her lab when Mallory left her to seek a few private moments in the garden. Felicity had been combining one liquid element with another in her quest to bring back the countess. “We must help her.”

Her knees, trembling when she’d been in Silas’s hold, strengthened as she raced toward the door.