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Kate often sought solace in Lady Danbury's garden, her feet crunching the gravel paths as she inhaled the sweet blend of roses and lavender. Tonight, the ball's music floated faintly through the open windows of the manor, a distant hum that felt worlds away.
She wasn’t alone for too long.
“Miss Sharma.” Lord Bridgerton’s voice, low and measured, broke the quiet. Kate couldn't help but stiffen in response. She turned to see him emerging from the shadows, his cravat slightly a little askew, his expression a little unreadable.
“My lord,” she greeted, drawing herself up, determined not to betray the erratic beat of her heart. “Shouldn’t you be inside? Surely the debutantes require your most keen attention.”
Lord Bridgerton’s jaw tensed, the familiar flicker of frustration sparking in his eyes. “I'm sure the young ladies are perfectly capable of occupying themselves for a moment.”
“And yet, here you are,” Kate replied, her tone sharper than intended. “Should I be flattered or concerned, my Lord?”
Lord Bridgerton stepped closer, his boots crunching the gravel. “Neither. Merely curious as to why you are out here alone.”
Kate raised a brow, folding her arms. “I might ask you the same.”
Lord Bridgerton exhaled, the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Avoiding yet another discussion about my intentions, I suppose.”
“Intentions you seem remarkably reluctant to clarify,” she retorted, the words escaping before she could stop them.
His gaze locked with hers, something raw and unguarded flashing across his face. “Miss Sharma, if you only knew—” He stopped abruptly, shaking his head. “No, it does not matter.”
Kate’s breath caught as he turned on his heel, retreating into the house, leaving her alone in the garden. Her mind raced with unspoken questions she feared she might already know the answers to.