by Lauren Royal
“I’m sure it is,” she said, imagining a redbrick warehouse with triangular pediments over the windows and white marble columns flanking the doors. Smiling, she handed back the brick.
He sobered as he slipped it into his pocket. “Will you watch over my sister?” he asked quietly.
“Why? Do you expect Ellen might run off and elope?”
She’d meant the question to be facetious, but he took it seriously. “From here? No. She won’t have time to get a message to Whittingham and pull off such a trick before I return.” His voice dropped. “I’m just worried for her. She’s not herself.”
“You care.”
“Of course I care.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you doubt that? She’s my sister. I love her.”
A horse clip-clopped around the square with a carriage creaking behind. “You two quarrel all the time.”
“Not all the time. Only since she met Whittingham.”
“Have you met him?”
“Briefly. Long enough to know he doesn’t have horns. But I want better for Ellen.” Kit hesitated a moment while the carriage squeaked off down King Street. “I work hard so she can have better.”
Rose had no doubt that the kind of money Kit had saved could win Ellen the husband he was envisioning. The Civil War had left many good families land-rich and cash-poor.
But Ellen was her friend, and she’d promised her support. “Thomas is actually quite nice. And, from what I can tell, he’s a very astute businessman.”
“He’s a pawnbroker.”
“He’s educated. If you’d talk to him, you’d discover that.”
“He’s still a pawnbroker. There’s no security in a life like that. My parents wed for love, then couldn’t protect their family when times got hard. I can buy Ellen a husband with land and the king’s ear—”
“There’s no security in any life,” Rose interrupted to point out. “Look to your own projects for the proof—going along fine one day, ruined the next. Titled men can be ruined, too. It happens all the time.”
Kit was silent a moment before he stopped walking and turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. “You said it’s as easy to fall in love with a titled man as one without. Have you changed your mind?”
His eyes searched hers, and frustration was evident in his voice. But he also sounded hopeful. Which was absurd. They would never be anything but friends.
“Of course not,” she said quickly.
“Oh,” he said. “I see.”
“You see what?”
“You wouldn’t settle for less, but Ellen and I, we’re different. An educated pawnbroker is good enough for her, and as for me, I’m good enough for kissing, but nothing else.”
He was confusing her—and worse, he was making her sound terrible. Although she couldn’t imagine how Kit and Ellen had managed to become so close to her family so quickly, she liked them—and she didn’t think herself any better than they.
Did she?
Kit’s fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Rose?”
Her thoughts were in chaos. When she tried to twist away, he held her fast. His gaze commanded hers, looking gray in the darkness.
“Perhaps that was exhaustion speaking,” he said. “I haven’t slept in two days. Should I say I’m sorry?”
He didn’t look sorry, and she didn’t know. If he’d touched a nerve, maybe that said more about her than it did him.
“Why do you kiss me, Rose?” he asked softly.
Realizing she definitely had more to think about than just the Duke of Bridgewater, she took a ragged breath. “You’re good at kissing.”
The tension eased from his face, and his sudden grin flashed white in the night. “I like a girl who says what she thinks.”
His hands slid from her shoulders down her arms, slowly. She held her breath until he locked his fingers with hers.
“You’re rather good at kissing, too,” he said conversationally. When he drew on both her hands, she didn’t have to sway forward. But she did. His eyes watched her intently, so intense she’d swear she saw glints of green even in the darkness. “My forthright Rose,” he whispered right before his mouth touched hers.
And it was magic. Those lips were pure, stomach-fluttering, senses-swirling magic. Nothing and no one else would ever make her feel this way. How could they? They weren’t Kit.
It hadn’t been her imagination: their mouths fit perfectly. “A thing of beauty,” she breathed aloud against his lips.
“Oh, yes,” he said, moving to press little kisses to her cheeks, the tip of her nose, across her temples. His warm breath on her ear made her shiver. “I don’t remember you wearing earrings,” he murmured.
“They were a gift from Gabriel.” Absently she touched the ruby and pearl bob on the opposite lobe.
“Gabriel? The angel?”
“The duke. Bridgewater.” She could melt, she thought as his lips moved to her neck. She could melt right here.
“The fellow has taste,” he said dryly. “I’ll give him that.”
“I chose them.”
“I should have known.” His low chuckle vibrated against her throat. She’d never dreamed the skin there was so sensitive. Her hands skimmed over his back, hard planes with ridges of muscle. The body of a working man. She hadn’t really touched Gabriel, but somehow she knew he’d be soft.
A sudden impulse made her bury her fingers in his hair and drag his lips back to hers.
Kit groaned and pulled away, closing his eyes momentarily. Before they opened, he thrust his hands in his pockets. “We must go back inside.”
She blinked at him, disoriented and hurt. “Didn’t you like that?”
“I liked it too much.” He moved closer to kiss her softly, apologetically…and briefly. Too briefly. His hands stayed out of sight. “You have no idea what you do to me, Rose.”
She did have an idea, because he did it to her, too.
THIRTY-THREE
ROSE AND KIT returned to the house to find Mum and Ellen laughing, a smudge of flour on Ellen’s nose.
Kit stayed just long enough to down two servings of the apple fritters they’d prepared. Just long enough to lock gazes several times with Rose. Just long enough to surreptitiously touch her a few times beneath the table.
The apple fritters were sweet and crispy, spiced with nutmeg, mace, and cinnamon. Yet Rose could hardly eat a bite. These were not typical interactions between friends.
But she didn’t want anything more with Kit. Did she?
“That was delicious,” he said at last, rising from the table. “Ellen, you can make apple fritters for me anytime. But I must leave. I’ll need to start out for Windsor very early in the morning, and I must get some sleep.”
“I know.” Ellen’s earlier gaiety disappeared as she and Rose walked him from the dining room to the door. “You’ll be back soon?”
“Day after tomorrow.” He stopped to kiss her on the forehead. “Be good, will you? In the meantime, I expect you to spend a lot of my money at the dressmaker’s. I trust that will give you some measure of revenge.”
Ellen just gave him a wan smile as he headed out the door, then sighed when his carriage rolled out of the square. “I hate it when he’s nice. It almost makes me forget that I loathe him.”
“You don’t,” Rose said gently.
“Not really. I’m just…very angry with him right now. He shouldn’t have the right to dictate my life.”
“But he does.”
“But he shouldn’t. And it makes me sad to be at odds with him, because I know he cares underneath.”
“Underneath? He cares every way that matters, Ellen—any fool could see it.” Just like he cared for her, Rose…any fool could see that, too. And Rose feared she was denying it much the same as Ellen.
“Whose side are you on?” Ellen asked. “I thought we were friends. You promised to intervene on my behalf.”
“I did. Out in the square we talked of little but you and your situation.” It wasn�
��t quite a lie—they hadn’t talked about much else. “He doesn’t want to listen. But I’d lay odds he listens other times, your brother. He wants only what’s best for you. What he thinks is best for you.”
“I know.” Ellen released another sigh, looking very pale.
Rose remembered Kit’s concern for the girl’s state of mind. “Shall we go find my mother?” she asked, thinking of how cheerful Ellen had appeared back in the kitchen. Mum was far more adept than Rose at raising people’s spirits.
Ellen shrugged as if she didn’t really care, and allowed her friend to lead her toward the stairs. “Have you made any progress on the translation?”
“Not really,” Rose answered guiltily. “Mum and I lived in close quarters at Windsor, and since we’ve arrived here I’ve been getting fitted for new gowns and catching up on my sleep. Unlike your brother, I’m afraid I’m only human.”
Actually, she’d finished translating several more of the verses—with a handkerchief covering the engravings, as she couldn’t seem to concentrate with those lurid poses exposed. Though undoubtedly explicit, the poems had struck her as more romantic than shocking. But then, she had nineteen years, the Master-piece’s knowledge, and a married sister who’d never shied away from frank discussion—whereas Ellen was only sixteen and a complete innocent. While Rose wouldn’t hesitate to furnish the worldly court ladies with racy reading material, it felt unsuitable to do the same for her young friend.
Though she’d had several more days to mull over the dilemma, she still hadn’t found a solution. She couldn’t fend off Ellen forever, but nor could she bring herself to turn the girl in. She wished to help mend Ellen’s relationship with Kit, and such a revelation would surely drive the siblings further apart.
As they made their way upstairs, unlike her brother, Ellen showed little interest in the house itself. Instead, she skimmed a hand over a marquetry hall table. “Thomas had something like this,” she said. And a Chinese vase. “And like this. He just sold it last week.” And a silver lantern clock. “He has something like this now.”
Mum called to them through an open door. “Good evening.” She sniffed at a bottle and made a note on a little card. “Come in,” she urged, choosing a vial and lowering a dropper into it.
“What’s this?” Ellen asked as they stepped into the room.
“My mother makes perfume,” Rose explained. “This is a laboratory of sorts.” She waved at the racks of vials. “Those are her essential oils.”
“Essential oils?”
“Distilled from flowers. In her perfumery at Trentingham, she has a fancy still that my brother-in-law built for her. That’s where she makes the oils.”
Squinting in the candlelight, Ellen peered at the rows of labels with their tiny, neat black lettering. “Are some of them made from herbs, too?”
“Oh, yes,” Mum said. “Many herbs make lovely top notes. Rosemary, for example, has a lavenderlike fragrance, and tansy is both fruity and minty—”
“Tansy?” Ellen’s head jerked up. “Like the tansy at supper?”
Mum nodded. “It’s more commonly used in cooking, of course.“ She added two drops to her blend and swirled the bottle. “Do you know much about perfumes?”
“Nothing.” Ellen’s gaze swept the assorted vials again. “Except that I like them.”
“Shall I make a blend for you, then?” Mum set down the bottle and chose an empty one. Using a little silver funnel, she poured in alcohol and water from two pewter flagons, then turned back to Ellen. “Should we start with tansy?”
“No,” Ellen said quickly. “I…” She swallowed hard. “I don’t actually care for mint.”
Mum nodded slowly. “You seem like a dreamer. A floral, then. Orange blossoms, and maybe some lilac. Vanilla, I think…” She went off into a dreamworld of her own as she concocted a mix that would fit Ellen perfectly.
Rose chose another empty bottle.
“I cannot believe how many oils she has,” Ellen whispered to her, as though speaking aloud would break Mum’s spell.
Rose took up the little funnel and a flagon. “She works all spring, summer, and autumn, converting the plants to oils,” she said, filling the bottle with alcohol and water. “Some oils she has to buy—as talented as my father is in his gardens, he cannot make everything grow in England.”
Ellen’s gaze continued sweeping over the labels. “But so many. They’re not alphabetical?”
Searching for frankincense, Rose shook her head. “My mother just knows where to lay her hands on whatever she wants. This is nothing, really. She has a whole little room at Trentingham where the walls are filled floor to ceiling with all her many supplies.”
Ellen nodded distractedly.
“What do you think?” Mum asked, presenting her with the bottle.
Ellen sniffed. “It’s lovely!”
“A good scent can go a long way toward cheering one up.”
Rose added several drops of myrrh to her mix and swirled it gently while her mother jotted a few notes on a card.
“There,” Mum said, looking up. Smiling at Ellen, she took the bottle from her, corked it, and handed it back. “Now I’ll be able to duplicate the scent should you wish for more later. Or we can alter the ingredients if you think you’d like something else.”
“Oh, no, this is perfect.” Ellen smiled, but Rose couldn’t help noticing it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you very much.”
“You’re quite welcome, dear. I hope you’ll enjoy it.” Mum concealed a yawn with one elegant hand. “My, but this bustling city does tire one out. I believe I’ll just finish this blend and turn in. Rose, you’ll show Ellen to her chamber? I’ve had the room opposite yours prepared.”
Rose corked her bottle, too. “Of course. Good night, Mum.”
“Good night.” Smiling absently, her mother returned to the perfume she’d been creating earlier.
Ellen was quiet as they made their way down the corridor. Rose slid her a sidelong glance. “Would you like to see my chamber?”
The girl shrugged.
Rose’s bedchamber at Trentingham was hung with crimson silk, but here in town she had jewel tones—bright ruby, deep sapphire, and rich emerald. “This is beautiful,” Ellen mumbled when they entered.
“Kit showed us your blue chamber when he gave us a tour of the house. It’s beautiful, too.”
“I like it.” Though Ellen smiled, the expression quickly faded. “I suppose it’s as well, since I’ll likely live there all my days.”
Taking Ellen’s bottle, Rose set both on her bedside table. “Not all your days, surely.”
“I suppose not. Just until Kit finds some hateful nobleman in need of money to marry me off to.”
Rose sat on the bed, drawing Ellen down beside her. “He wouldn’t wed you to anyone you hated.”
“He’s obsessed with raising our social status.” Ellen shifted to face her. “He’s convinced people judge him by that rather than his accomplishments.”
“It’s the way of the world. But he should be proud of those accomplishments—”
“Exactly what I tell him,” Ellen interrupted. “He shouldn’t care what people think. Do you know, I believe he doesn’t look on the Deputy Surveyor post as an accomplishment so much as a chance to be knighted. Kit really believes that people will look at him differently if there’s a Sir before his name.”
Rose knew Ellen was waiting for her to disagree, but she couldn’t. People would look at Kit differently. Even more so if he managed to dazzle King Charles into awarding him an even greater title.
She’d never thought about that possibility, but then she hadn’t known the position of Deputy Surveyor carried with it a probability of knighthood. That and more was certainly within the king’s power. If Kit were elevated to the aristocracy—
“Oh,” Ellen moaned, “I’m so tired of this! It would all be over if I could only—” She swiped at damp eyes, hunching over, her head drooping. Then, after a moment, she straightened and seem
ed to gather herself. “Rose, tell me the truth. Are you ever going to finish the translation?”
Entirely caught out, Rose went rigid. “I…”
The younger girl burst into tears.
“Gemini! I’m so sorry.” Rose seized Ellen’s hands. “Of course I’ll finish it,” she fibbed, then cursed herself for the ill-considered lie, suspecting she would regret her words later. But right now she’d say anything to calm her friend. “You’ll have it soon, you’ll see. I would have worked faster if I knew it meant this much to you.”
“It’s not that. I just…” Ellen searched her eyes, her own overflowing. “I feel…” She appeared to swallow past a huge lump in her throat. “I just miss Thomas, is all,” she whispered finally.
If this was love, Rose wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with it. Ellen looked more miserable than she’d thought possible. She’d never seen anyone so desperate—not even Lily when she feared Rand would have to marry someone else.
“You’ll see Thomas soon,” she soothed, squeezing Ellen’s hands. “You live in Windsor, after all. Kit cannot keep you away forever. I imagine he just wanted to conduct his business there quickly and then get back to Whitehall where he’s needed.”
“But he’s not needed at Whitehall—not anymore. The crisis has passed, and the project will go smoothly without him.”
“Well, that’s good, then. He’s coming back day after tomorrow. You heard him say that, didn’t you? If he isn’t needed here in London, then surely he’ll take you back to Windsor.”
“I think not.” With a great effort, Ellen choked back the last of her tears. “He told me today that Thomas will never see a penny of my dowry.”
Rose didn’t think Kit would follow through with that threat, but it wasn’t her place to say so. “Is that what this is about?”
“No. Well, maybe.” She bit her lip, looking up at Rose through damp lashes. “What if Thomas doesn’t want me without the money? We’ve spent so much time dreaming of the day when—”
“Don’t be a goose.” Rose reached to lift Ellen’s chin. “I know the look of love in a man’s eyes, and I can assure you Thomas is besotted. He doesn’t want you for your money, Ellen—you need to put that right out of your head.”