by Lauren Royal
He drew a deep breath, hefted the bag of coins, and marched up to the pawnshop’s door. It was locked tight at this late hour, but as he was raising his hand to knock, it swung open. Ellen and her husband both stood there, wrapped in cloaks, obviously on their way out.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Where are you going?” he countered—then realized she’d actually spoken to him. Would wonders never cease? Just when he was ready to give in, she’d saved him from proving himself a coward.
“Now that the shop is closed for the evening, I was going to try to see you,” she said. “As I’ve done the past four nights.”
“I was away,” he said unnecessarily. “Here.” He held out the bag. “A down payment on your dowry. I never meant to keep it from you. My goldsmith is holding the rest for you in London.”
“I know. I’ve been trying for four days to thank you.” Instead of taking the money, she threw her arms around him, the hard bag of gold between them. “Thank you so very, very much.” She kissed both his cheeks. “I love you. I honestly don’t know what came over me. But I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, that I tried to punish you by remaining silent.”
Though clearly rehearsed, her words sounded sincere. But Kit was stunned. He pulled away. “How did you know I was about to give it to you?” Until a few minutes ago, he hadn’t been sure himself.
Ellen exchanged a confused glance with Thomas, then looked back to Kit. “What do you mean, how did I know?”
“There was no need to bring more gold,” Thomas added. “The first bag was sufficient proof of your intentions.”
Kit shifted the heavy weight in his arms. “The first bag?”
“The one you sent with Rose.” Ellen enunciated slowly, as though he were a half-wit who required the simplest explanation.
Which wasn’t too far off from the way he was feeling at the moment. “Rose? What does Rose have to do with this?”
Thomas looked even more confused than Kit felt. “She brought us your money. Or a thousand pounds of it, and a promissory note from your goldsmith for the rest. Abrahamson & Company.”
“My money is with Lazarus & Sons.” Kit’s thoughts seemed to be moving through a fog, until suddenly everything cleared. “Lord Almighty. It must have been her money. Her inheritance.”
Thomas blinked. “Is she mad?”
“Clearly,” Kit said. “Insane, infuriating—”
“Madly in love,” Ellen interrupted with a soft smile.
Reeling, Kit leaned against the doorpost. Not light to begin with, the bag seemed to be growing heavier by the moment. “Do you think I could come in and sit down?”
“ROSE IS anxious,” Chrystabel said later that night as she readied herself for bed. “Distressed. I never in my life thought I’d see Rose like this. Of all our girls—”
“You’re the one who’s anxious.” Joseph stepped behind to unlace her, pausing to kiss the back of her neck.
The little shiver that rippled through her wasn’t enough to really distract her. She reached up to unpin her hair. “I should have let her sleep with Kit.”
“What?” Though he sounded astonished, his practiced fingers kept unlacing. “You cannot mean that, Chrysanthemum.”
“I do. It’s the only explanation for Rose’s attack of nerves. It was a mistake keeping them apart. Our daughter should be happily anticipating her wedding tomorrow, and instead—”
“You explained so well all your excellent reasons for forbidding their early union.” He spread the back of her gown, drawing it off her shoulders and kissing the newly bared skin. “Fear of an eight-month baby—”
“We had a six-month baby and survived—”
“Loss of innocence before the wedding—”
“So what?”
“—when the wedding could be called off for various reasons—”
“What reasons? It was different with Lily and Rand, where his father was against the match. But Kit has no living parents, no one he has to please. He’s his own man—”
He laughed, pushing the gown and her chemise down to pool at her feet. “And you’re your own woman, my love. Truly one of a kind.”
Wondering if he meant that as a compliment or a complaint, she turned and kissed him anyway. “Thankfully, tomorrow it will all be settled, all three of our girls married.”
He skimmed his warm hands down her sides to her hips. “Do you find that sad? Another reason to be anxious?”
Nodding, she bit her lip. And reached for her night rail.
“Oh, you won’t be needing that.” Snatching it from her hands, he threw it artfully over his shoulder. “I suspect a prewedding night might take your mind off tomorrow’s anxieties.”
Seventy
NO NOTE HAD come from Kit.
Wearing a sapphire silk dressing gown, Rose paced her crimson bedchamber while her sisters and Judith watched. They were here to help her dress for her wedding.
But she couldn’t help wondering if she was going to have one.
She lifted the bouquet she’d made for herself and stroked the soft red and white petals. If she hadn’t given all that money to Kit’s sister, she wouldn’t think twice about the fact that he hadn’t arrived yet; in truth, she had no reason to expect him this early. And he wasn’t supposed to see her before the wedding, anyway.
But she’d thought she’d hear from him Thursday night. And now it was Saturday…
“You look worried,” Judith said.
Rose inhaled deeply of the sweet floral scent before she set the flowers down and forced a smile. “Wedding nerves. You suffered them, too, if you’ll remember.”
“Did I?” Judith laughed, looking happier than Rose had ever seen her. “But there was no cause for nerves, as I discovered. If it’s the wedding night you’re dreading…don’t. It was ever so wonderful—” She must have suddenly realized what she was saying, because she broke off, her cheeks flushing pink.
Struggling to keep a straight face, Rose exchanged glances with her sisters. “Thank you,” she told Judith primly. “I feel much better.”
“Oh, good.” Judith smiled.
Rose’s hair was already dressed with pearls and red ribbons, her lashes darkened, and her eyes lightly outlined with kohl. For want of something to do, she sat at her dressing table and fluffed more powder on her face.
“You’re going to look like a ghost,” Violet said.
“Good God, you’re right.” Staring at her pale self in the mirror, she pulled a little sheet of red Spanish paper from a tiny booklet. “Where’s Kit?” she asked, rubbing it on her cheeks.
“Now you look like a harlot.” Lily grabbed a handkerchief to rub some off. “Let me help you.”
Rose sat rigid under her ministrations. “Is it time for me to get dressed?”
“Might as well.” Violet swept the red gown off the bed. “Shall I call Harriet?”
“No. You three can help me. I cannot stand any more of her chatter. All she ever talks of is Walter and getting married. I almost wish they’d chosen to live at Hampton Court instead of with me.”
“That isn’t true,” Lily said.
Of course it wasn’t. Harriet’s chatter hadn’t bothered her before she gave the money to Ellen. She just couldn’t take so much unadulterated happiness right now. It set her teeth on edge.
She slid out of her wrapper and stood in place while Judith slipped the diaphanous chemise over her head, being careful not to ruin her hair or her carefully applied face. Then her sisters brought over the gown and helped her wiggle into it. Violet smoothed the satin skirts over her hips while Lily stepped close to lace her tightly into the bodice.
“I think I may be with child,” she murmured to Rose’s chest.
Rose blinked and glanced down to Lily’s still-flat stomach. In her dusky pink gown, her sister’s body looked as lithe as ever. “Are you sure?”
Lily looked up with a dreamy smile. “I’m two weeks late.”
“Oh, Lily!” Violet threw her
arms around her.
“Me, too,” Judith said shyly.
Lily froze. “You’re not jesting?”
“No,” Judith said, and they both let out excited little screams.
Beaming, Lily turned from Violet’s arms into her friend’s. “Remember when you said we should be newly wedded together? Now we’re going to become mothers together, too!”
Rose watched them embrace, slowly tying her abandoned laces in a bow while her own flat stomach churned. Lily and Judith and Ellen, all pregnant. And Violet had three children already.
On this day that was supposed to be happy, she felt so left out. She reached for her stomacher and plastered it against her front, beginning to fasten the tabs. Would she ever have children of her own? Not if Kit didn’t show up to marry her—
“Edmund is thrilled,” Judith gushed. “What did Rand say?”
“I haven’t told him yet.” Lily hugged herself round the middle as though she were protecting her child. “I wanted to be sure. We’ve been disappointed before—”
“Oh, heavens,” Judith said. “You’ve been wed just two months. You must tell him. If he’s half as happy as Edmund, you’ll end up spending a night that makes you wonder if you could possibly conceive a second child when you’re already increasing with the first—”
She clapped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks looking like she’d used a whole booklet of Spanish paper.
Lily laughed. “I’ll tell him today.”
“Tell who what?” came a voice from the doorway.
Kit.
Rose’s heart thundered beneath her laces.
“Never mind,” Lily blurted.
Kit locked his gaze on Rose, but she couldn’t read his face. “You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding,” she said inanely. “It’s bad luck.”
“I’ll risk it. I need to talk to you.”
He looked so serious. The little breakfast she’d managed to choke down this morning was threatening to come back up.
“Well…we’ll leave,” Lily said.
“Excellent idea.” He waited by the door while the other three women scurried out, then shut it decisively behind them. “Do you need help with that?” he asked, indicating Rose’s half-attached stomacher.
“No.” Her fingers began moving again, albeit shakily. He was walking closer. “Kit—”
Her sentence was cut off when his mouth crushed down on hers.
This was no gentle caress, but hot and emphatic. His lips coaxed hers open and his tongue swept her mouth in a declaration of possession that made her senses dim and her knees threaten to buckle.
By the time he broke contact, she was gasping for breath, reeling with the sudden reversal of worry to elation.
He kissed her chin, her neck, between her breasts where her stomacher dangled drunkenly. “God, I love you,” he murmured against her skin. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. “You smell like sin.”
She threaded her fingers into his hair and pressed her lips to the top of his head. “I was so afraid you’d hate me.”
“Hate you?” Straightening, he lifted her chin until her gaze was forced to his. His incredible eyes searched hers. “Why?”
“For meddling in your affairs. I only wanted your happiness…”
“Did you think I didn’t know that? Did you think I wouldn’t fall in love with you all over again when I realized you were willing to give up your inheritance to bring me and my sister together? What kind of man do you think I am?”
She’d known what kind of man he was—she shouldn’t have let her sisters lead her to doubt. “You didn’t answer my letter.”
“What letter?” His thumb moved from her chin, skimming tenderly over her cheek. “I never received any letter.”
“I left it propped on your washstand.”
He shrugged. “No one’s ever done anything that touched me the way you have. Lord Almighty, sweetheart, when I went to give Ellen her dowry and she told me—”
“What?” She forgot about the missing letter as her hand flew up to grasp his wrist. “You gave Ellen her dowry?”
“I tried to,” he said with a wry grin. “She told me you already had.” His gaze softened. “However was I lucky enough to win a woman as special as you?”
Rose’s throat tightened. No one had ever called her special. “I should have known you would do the right thing.” She’d known he was a good man—that was why she’d decided to marry him.
He kissed her again, more gently this time, a tender kiss that made tears well in her eyes. No matter what he said, she knew she was the lucky one—lucky he hadn’t given up when she’d pushed him away for all the wrong reasons.
But if he had given up, he wouldn’t have been Kit.
“No crying on your wedding day,” he said, wiping a rogue tear off her cheek with a warm thumb. “I’m sure that’s worse luck than having me see you before the ceremony.”
She managed a watery chuckle.
His hands went to finish attaching her stomacher. “You look beautiful.”
“You look better,” she said, her pulse thumping madly under his fingers. He wore a deep green velvet suit with silver braid trim on the long waistcoat and the surcoat that went over it. Just enough lace fell from beneath his cuffs, and a tasteful diamond pin winked from the folds of his cravat.
Perfect. If she’d noticed how he was dressed when he first appeared in her doorway, she would have spared herself a few anguished seconds of worry. No one would take him for anything but a groom.
A heart-stoppingly handsome one.
His fingers traced the pearl scrollwork on her stomacher. “I have something for you.” He pulled a small wooden box from his pocket. “I wasn’t sure what color you’d be wearing, but I think they will match.”
She opened the lid to find an exquisite pair of earrings, two teardrop pearls swinging from clustered diamond tops. “They must have cost a fortune,” she gasped. She’d never seen such enormous pearls.
He smiled as he took them from the box and moved closer to fasten them on her ears. “I may not be titled, but I’m hardly a pauper.”
“I’m not wearing any earrings. I didn’t have any I wanted to wear.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, kissing a bare lobe before he decorated it. “I don’t ever want to see you wearing that damned duke’s jewels again. In fact, I think you should pawn them. Permanently. I just happen to know of a pawnshop.”
She laughed as he attached the second earring. When he was finished, he drew her close, running his hands over her back and down to her bottom. She ached where he brought their bodies together.
“I love you,” he said.
She’d never tire of hearing those three words. “I love you, too.”
“I love you in red.”
“I’m glad.” His scent was making her dizzy. “My sisters both wore blue.”
“I’d love to see you in blue, too.” He nibbled her neck. “I’d love to see you in purple,” he said conversationally. “I’d love to see you in green. I’d love to see you in a rich, metallic gold.”
Each word against her skin made delicious shivers whisper through her. She sighed, tilting her head to give him better access.
His lips settled in the sensitive hollow of her throat. “But mostly,” he whispered devilishly, “I’d love to see you naked.”
If her sisters hadn’t knocked on the door then, he might have.
Seventy-One
STANDING AT THE front of her family’s small, crowded chapel, Rose shifted on her high-heeled shoes and slipped her hand into Kit’s.
“Christopher Martyn, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.” The confident words boomed through the magnificent oak-paneled chamber, binding Kit to Rose.
/> But Rose wasn’t listening to the ceremony. Instead she was thinking that Kit was the most handsome, intelligent, loving man she’d ever known, not to mention moral to a fault. She was so glad he’d managed to burst her foolish bubble and make her realize what really counted.
Love, clear and true.
Happy tears brightened her mother’s brown eyes. Rose knew Mum thought Kit was perfect for her—she even suspected she’d had a hand in getting them together. There were too many times she’d left them alone early on, too many times she’d decided to follow the court when Kit just happened to be working at a particular castle or palace.
But Rose didn’t care.
Her gaze wandered over the assembled guests, landing on Lily. Her younger sister stood next to Rand, her rich sable hair cascading to her shoulders in glossy ringlets, her lips curved in a way that made Rose think she’d just shared her secret. Beside her, Rand beamed a smile, looking like he wanted to shout to the world that he was going to be a father.
The two were so clearly in love, Rose knew they belonged together—and she was thrilled for her sister. She was so glad Lily had ended up with Rand, leaving her to find Kit.
The priest cleared his throat and looked back down at his Book of Common Prayer. “Lady Rose Ashcroft, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband…”
Standing on Lily’s right, their older sister Violet shifted one of her twin babies on her hip, gazing up at Ford. Sun streamed through the stained glass windows, glinting off her spectacles as she whispered something in his ear.
Holding their other infant, Ford squeezed his wife around the shoulders. Seated cross-legged at their feet, their three-year-old son Nicky traced a finger over the patterns in the colorful glazed tile floor, obliviously happy.
Rose couldn’t wait to have a family of her own. She flashed a quick smile at Ellen where she stood beside Thomas, one hand in his and the other resting lightly on her middle. The niece or nephew growing there, Rose thought giddily, would someday be cousin to her own child.
“…so long as ye both shall live?” the priest concluded expectantly.