Page 46 of His Wicked Charm

“Not really.” There was something unnerving about the maze’s dark green depths, the ever-narrowing passages. “Why would anyone want to get lost?”

“I think the idea is more to find what’s hidden at the center. Aren’t you curious?”

“No.” She fixed him with an exasperated gaze. How was it that Con always managed to bring up bothersome topics? “My father took me in there once because I kept insisting.” She remembered her anxiety, the hedges looming so high, so dark around her, the untrimmed branches and twigs reaching out to snag her. Her chest tightened. “There’s nothing there to see.”

“Very well.” He shrugged. “I’ll explore the maze later myself.”

“Con, no. You’ll get lost.”

“I never get lost. You know, perhaps we should talk to your aunt before we go.”

She should have foreseen this. Of course he would want to talk to Aunt Vesta, and God only knew where that would lead. It would be impossible to keep him away from her aunt. But at least she could delay it. “No, let’s explore the maze.”

Con looked faintly surprised at her reversal but said nothing. Later that morning, Lilah led Con out to the maze. The hedges had grown taller, their branches straggling out every which way and turning the walkways even darker.

Branches stretched and curled from either side, narrowing the pathway, in some places even knitting together enough that Con had to push them aside in order to pass through. An odd, stifling feeling settled over Lilah, confirming her dislike of this place.

“Lilah, you need not come,” Con said softly. “I can go on alone.”

Lilah stiffened her spine. “Nonsense. I can’t have you vanishing in the maze.”

His eyes drifted over her face. “Very well.” They started forward again, Con taking the lead. “Tell me about this maze. Who built it?”

“I don’t really know. It was here when my father was young. He got lost in it once as a child. That’s why he wouldn’t let me into it alone. Weren’t mazes popular during the last century?”

Con shrugged. “No doubt Alex could tell you better than I. But I think they’ve been around long before that. Didn’t the Tudors have them?”

“Then perhaps it was planted by the first Holcutt.” Lilah was glad Con had thrown out a conversational gambit. While she concentrated on his questions, she could ignore the tightness in her chest, only vaguely aware of the twists and turns Con took.

They reached an intersecting path, and Con paused, frowning faintly as he looked first one way then the next. Lilah pointed straight ahead and started forward. “I think this is the correct way.”

“No. We should turn here.” He took her arm, halting her. An odd look crossed his face. “Yes. I’m sure. It’s this way.”

“How could you possibly know?” Lilah asked. Confidence was one thing, but Con could be annoyingly stubborn in his certainty.

“It just makes sense,” Con replied vaguely.

With a shrug, Lilah followed him. It was small of her, she knew, but a part of her hoped they would find themselves in a leafy dead end. Con released her arm, but he kept his hand on the back of her waist in a gesture Lilah found oddly—and irritatingly—reassuring.

They turned again, and there, in front of them was the center of the maze. A sundial marked the spot, a wrought iron bench facing it. The bench had been overgrown by ivy, and the vine had inched over the stone foundation on which the sundial sat. Tendrils crawled up the pedestal.

Lilah turned to Con in astonishment. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Go directly to the center. Not even one wrong turn. Father told me no one ever managed it on the first try.” Lilah narrowed her eyes. “Did you come here this morning and figure it out beforehand?”

Con burst into laughter. “Delilah Holcutt. You are an exceedingly suspicious soul.” He moved closer, smiling down at her. “No. I didn’t sneak in earlier so that I could astound you with my directional skills. I told you I was good with maps and directions. I generally can tell which way is north.”

“There is no map of the maze.” Lilah planted her hands on her hips. “And I don’t see how knowing east from west could help you work your way through a maze.”

“Then I suppose it must be luck.” He grinned. “Or maybe I do have a mystical ability after all. I’m a human compass.” As Lilah rolled her eyes, Con turned to examine the sundial. The pedestal was made of stone, the face of copper, long since oxidized. “I wouldn’t think a sundial would work very well, here in the middle of these hedges.”

“No.” Lilah joined him at the edge of the triangular stone slab on which the sundial sat.

Con squatted down and pushed aside the creeping strands of ivy. A figure of three spirals fused into a triangular shape was carved into the corner. He tore more ivy away to reveal the carving repeated at regular intervals around the edge. Con ran a fingertip around one of the spirals.

“The mystical number of three,” he murmured. “Look. One at each of the three corners, two more along each side, making a total of nine—three times three.”