Drawn Together

Mary Sheffield fell in love twice on the same night. She'd escaped to one of the palace gardens after a second dance with the wealthy earl with whom her parents seemed set on matching her. His hands tended to wander and her skin crawled whenever he looked upon her. She'd been named last season's incomparable and her rejection of several proposals only made her more desirable to men like him. She was a prize to be won and her lack of enthusiasm for his attentions did not seem to deter him.

The Sheffields were disappointed that their daughter did not marry in her first season and seemed determined to get her betrothed before the start of her second. Lady Danbury took pity on the sensitive young beauty and rescued her from the earl with some question about the dusky pink gown she was wearing and the modiste who had fashioned it. Mary shot the older woman a grateful look before her solitary escape.

The garden was blessedly cool and quiet that night. It helped relieve the headache that had been steadily blooming behind her eyes ever since she'd entered the palace earlier that evening. The queen was holding a reception for a visiting royal family from India. Mary fought back tears as she sat on a bench. Oh how she wished that she'd accepted any one of last season's proposals. Some of her suitors seemed perfectly acceptable now compared to this earl. He frightened her in ways she didn't fully understand.

A bark followed by a melodic man's voice from another section of the garden caught Mary's attention. She snuck over to discern what he was saying. Through some bushes, she spotted a tall man with dark mahogany skin and inky black curls neatly slicked back from an elegant set of features. She couldn't see who he was speaking to but he spoke with a mix of affection and exasperation.

Hands on rangy hips, he said, "Kathani, where did this dog come from? How did you manage to escape the royal governess yet again?"

Mary moved to better see the source of response. Dressed in royal purple with her black hair in braids, an adorable little girl spoke in a foreign language. She was clutching a beagle to her as if her life (or perhaps its life) depended on it. Her tiny face was dominated by liquid, forlorn eyes.

The handsome man said, "No. We speak English while we're in this country. Immersion is the best way to master a language. And it helps Queen Charlotte and the rest of our hosts be more comfortable in our presence."

"Appa, he was going to shoot her! I could not allow it," the little girl set her jaw.

He seemed even more bewildered, "Who? When did this happen?"

"The yellow-haired man with the big forehead. At the picnic tea earlier today," she said with forbearance.

"At Lord Cowper's? How did... You snuck off to his stables? You were supposed to stay at the picnic with the other children," he said with a sigh.

"Prince Naveen and a quiet English boy at the picnic wanted me to show them the horse I'd seen earlier. It's good we did because we overheard the man with the forehead - "

"Lord Cowper," he corrected.

She nodded, "He said 'this one won't hunt' and told the steward to shoot her. The other boy distracted the steward while the prince and I snuck Mimi back to the palace."

"You named her? No. Kathani, we are but guests here. We cannot go around stealing other people's dogs. I will have to speak with Lord Cowper and apologize," he said.

"Appa, no! We can't let them kill her! I love her already. I won't let her go back," the little girl started crying.

Mary's heart constricted. She could take it no longer and came out from behind the bushes. She didn't know where she got the daring to speak with complete strangers in the middle of a shadowy garden. There was something about this man and his child that emboldened her, that made her feel at ease.