"Sophia, we need to talk," Nate said to his fiancé in a voice that brooked no argument. The other people looked wary.

Yes, what Sophia has done was despicable and Nate's control was hanging by a thread, but still. She was going to be his wife and to them, Fiona was nobody. She didn't have a rank to back her and she was his mother's companion.

But he'd be damned if he let this go. Maybe Fiona didn't matter to them, but she sure as hell mattered to him. He knew that much now.

Sophia looked a little uncertain but flashed everyone a bright smile and stood up. She latched on to his arm as he walked out of the parlour.

"Where are we going, Nathaniel?" she asked nervously.

"Somewhere private."

"Are you finally going to kiss me?" she asked breathlessly.

Nate stopped walking and she nearly collided with him.

"We are going to talk about your behaviour with Fiona."

"Oh so now you're on first name basis," she said bitterly. "Are you honestly going to take her side? And I didn't even say anything offensive!"

"I chose you because you seemed like you had a sound mind. I thought you had polish. Clearly I was wrong," Nate said coldly.

"You're saying all this to me for her?! For that lowly, cheap nothing?" she shrieked.

"You will speak of her with nothing but respect," Nate growled. "She has done nothing to deserve your ire."

"Hasn't she? Every time I look at my fiancé, I find him looking at her. You didn't even look happy to see me."

Nate sighed. His head had began to throb. What was he to say to Sophia? That he wanted his mother's companion? That she affected him the way no other woman had?

"I was happy to see you. And I'm keeping an eye on her. She is an easy target for all the gentlemen and since she's under my protection, I must make sure nobody tries to take advantage of her."

At least that was part of the truth.

His attraction to Fiona would wear off, he told himself. It was more important that he repair the damage on his relationship with Sophia. She was going to be his wife. Sophia was good for the dukedom, for the name of his family. Fiona wasn't.

Sophia didn't look like she believed him but her grip on his arm loosened.

"I shall endeavour to be more polite henceforth."

"Thank you."

Nate knew where he stood in her eyes. She didn't want love. She wanted to be a duchess. Which was just as well—he didn't need love either.

******************

Nate was trying to find Fiona. Again.

The woman sure knew how to disappear. He'd looked everywhere. And even his mother didn't know where she was.

He knew she hadn't eaten, so he'd packed some scones in a little napkin. He hoped it would make up for what Sophia had said to her.

Nate knew he shouldn't be chasing after her this way. And he'd tried to convince himself that it didn't matter if her feelings got a little hurt.

But he hadn't been able to. He had to make things right with her. Fiona was one of the few people he was most comfortable with and he didn't want to ruin that. He also owed her an apology for yesterday's kiss.

He stopped a nearby footman and asked him about Fiona.

"I saw her heading into the maze, your grace," he replied. Nate thanked him and took off on a run heading to the maze.

He quickly made his way towards the centre, his heart racing—he didn't know why.

As he neared the centre though, he heard laughter.

What?

And then he saw her. Fiona sitting on a small blanket by the fountain.

But she wasn't alone.

Sitting opposite to her was Winston. Food spread out between them. And both of them were smiling, their profiles to him.

A fury unlike any he'd ever experienced seized Nate. His head felt close to exploding and his fists clenched on his sides.

And it wasn't just anger he felt. There was a healthy dose of hurt. He felt betrayed. Which was bloody ridiculous. He knew it and yet that didn't stop him from growling her name.

She turned toward him, a startled expression on his face. Winston merely looked put out.

"What is it, your grace? Is it your mother?" she got up and walked towards him hurriedly, her yellow skirts tangling with her legs, a frown creasing her brow.

"No," he said shortly.

"Then?"

"What are you doing with him? All alone?" he hated how wounded he sounded.

"Not that I owe you any explanation, but this wasn't a planned rendezvous. I was here—sulking. And Lord Winston must have heard about what happened because he asked for a picnic basket and set out to find me," she replied.

"I brought you scones," he said, sounding every inch a petulant child as he dragged out the napkin from his coat.

"Thank you," she murmured, her expression unreadable as S he took it from him. "I'm too full to eat anything just now, I shall eat them later."

"Is there a problem?" Winston called from behind them.

"Yes," Nate growled at the same time Fiona said, "no."

"Well, what is it?" he asked again.

"It's nothing, my lord. I'll be there in a moment," she replied, her eyes pleaded with Nate all the while to keep quiet.

"Why are you here, your grace?" she asked him softly.

"I knew you must be hungry," he huffed.

"Then can I go back?"

"No. I also wanted to apologise on Sophia's behalf."

"That isn't necessary. I'm sure the Lady didn't mean any offence. Besides, she didn't say anything untrue," she whispered.

"It was utter rubbish, you hear me," he said fiercely and clutched her hand in his, his eyes burning into hers. "A mere rank cannot decide your worth. You're far above her. Far above everyone else here."

"Why did you choose to marry Lady Sophia, your grace? Did you fall in love with her?"

Nate was flustered by her question. "I—" he started but began to stutter.

"I thought so," she smiled warily.

"Fiona—"

"Let go of my hand, your grace. Please."

Nate released her hand. He began to follow her but she turned around and stared at him.

"You can't ask me to leave. This is my house. I own this place."

Fiona shrugged, but Nate had never felt so small.

He swore and left the maze, eager to get away from that damned woman who'd managed to get under his skin.