by Lauren Royal
“Oh my,” Mum breathed, her eyes growing shiny. “You’re supposed to let the man propose.”
“Question Convention,” Kit quoted with a shrug.
He moved closer, trailing a warm, possessive hand down Rose’s back where her mother couldn’t see. It took all she had not to shiver with delight. “I was tired of men proposing to me. After the wedding, we’re taking a trip to Italy.”
Kit’s arm stilled. “We are?”
“And France. Everywhere there are beautiful buildings. I have my inheritance—”
“There’s no need for that. I’ve funds enough to travel as long as you’d like. And I shall be free as a bird once my current projects are complete…now that I won’t have the Deputy Surveyor post to tie me,” he added dryly.
She breezed over that. “We’ll leave right after we attend the queen’s birthday celebration at Whitehall. I wish to show the courtiers the sort of man it takes to win me.”
He laughed, a joyous sound that rippled right through her. “She’s planning my life,” he told Mum.
“Get used to it,” her mother said, delicately wiping her eyes. “Let’s tell Joseph the good news.”
“SIX MONTHS. You’re my last daughter. This is my last chance to throw a wedding that will be talked of for years.”
“Shot in her rear?” Father sat up straighter in alarm. “Holy Hades, who’s been—”
“No one’s been shot, dear.” His wife laid a hand on his arm and raised her voice. “Rose and Mr. Martyn are to be married!”
“Ah!” Though still appearing confused, Father’s smile was genuine. “That’s wonderful news, darling.”
Rose shook her head. “Two weeks, Mum. Violet and Lily only had to wait two weeks for their weddings.”
Her mother made a big show of sighing. “Three months.”
“I want to be married before the queen’s birthday,” Rose insisted. “One month.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Kit asked. “I vote for tomorrow.”
One month it was, and Rose felt victorious.
Until she heard her mother’s next words. “Kit, I wish to commend you on the outstanding job you’ve done planning my husband’s greenhouse. Given your management prowess, I have no doubt the project will finish quickly even in your absence.”
Rose’s brow furrowed. “His absence?”
Mum blinked at her. “Of course, dear. He cannot very well stay here.”
“Whyever not? He’s stayed here before.”
“Yes, before your betrothal. It wouldn’t be proper now.”
“But—”
“Besides, Kit must return to his building sites if he’s to finish all those projects before you whisk him away to the Continent.” Mum turned to him with a honeyed smile. “Isn’t that so?”
“Um…” His eyes darted between Rose and her mother. “I suppose—”
“Excellent. I’m sure you two will share a charming correspondence.” Mum rose from her chair. “I’m sending for Violet and Lily and their families—we’ll have a celebration supper before Kit takes his leave. In the meantime, why don’t you two take a turn in the garden before the sun disappears?”
Dropping a kiss upon her husband’s cheek, she turned on her heel and left the drawing room.
Rose shrugged and reached for Kit’s hand, thinking a walk didn’t sound like a bad idea. They’d have some time to themselves before parting.
Mum poked her head back in. “Joseph,” she called out, “perhaps you’d be so good as to cut some of those hollyhocks for the supper table?”
Hmmph. So much for privacy.
SIXTY
“DON’T YOU THINK she was acting strange?” Rose asked Kit as they strolled a flower-lined path, staying out of her father’s earshot—not that Lord Trentingham had much earshot to speak of.
“Strange?” Kit was only half listening. He held one of her hands, stroking her palm with his thumb and enjoying the way it made her fingers tighten over his. If only her father weren’t puttering in and out of sight between the flower beds, Kit would be kissing her right now.
But he supposed there would be plenty of time for kissing soon, after they were married.
He still couldn’t believe it.
Rose held a bloom in her free hand, rolling the stem back and forth. “She’s trying to keep us apart.”
Kit shrugged. “For the sake of propriety, she said.”
“There’s nothing improper about you staying at Trentingham with my family present.”
Kit shrugged again, busy realizing that she’d soon be sleeping at his house every night. In his room. In his bed. The potency of that thought jarred him, shook him to his very core. Brought home the astonishing truth.
Rose was going to be his…for all time.
Despondency had held him in thrall these past days, but now it simply melted away as his heart took flight. The loss of the Deputy Surveyor post seemed insignificant next to the joy of being with Rose. Perhaps he’d never hold a title, but love, it suddenly seemed, was much more important.
Hang it if his little sister hadn’t been right all along.
A shadow fell over them and Kit looked up to see the lovely redbrick summerhouse where he’d spoken with the king’s messenger. Had that day—Rand’s wedding—truly only been a few weeks ago? It felt like years. Everything had changed, thanks to the breathtaking young woman standing beside him.
His smile faltered when he noticed her frown. “What is it?”
Rose pursed her lips. “I fear Mum might have another reason to keep us apart.“ Her hand slipped from his to join the other in twisting the delicate bloom. “When we told her about our betrothal, there were tears in her eyes. Might she take exception to the match?”
That was so far from the truth that Kit had to clamp down on a bark of laughter. “They were happy tears, Rose.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Besides,” he added, catching her hand again with a playful smile, “weren’t you raised to make this choice for yourself, regardless of your mother’s opinion?”
“I’m allowed to choose my own husband, but I don’t wish for Mum’s disapproval.”
“And here I thought you were determined not to choose someone she’s approved.”
“I—” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “How did you know that? Did I tell you?”
“You must have,” he said lightly, though inside he was cursing his carelessness. Lady Trentingham had told him that. Needing to distract Rose—and fast—he pulled her into the summerhouse.
As they stepped through one of the arched entrances to the round structure, her mood shifted. Her arms slid around to draw him in closer, and he felt her warm breath on his lips. He loved that she was tall enough to kiss him without requiring him to stoop.
Her flowery, feminine scent engulfed him, and when their mouths met, she tasted like pure, perfect bliss. The contact jolted through him, leaving his whole body humming with awareness—an awareness of everything she meant to him.
Rose closed her eyes and leaned into Kit, his lips against hers feeling desperately tender. She felt it in her skin, a tight tingling…in her stomach, a melting sweetness…in her heart, an erratic rhythm that sent her senses spinning out of control.
This was right—so right she couldn’t imagine what had taken her so long to realize they belonged to each other. She should have known from the first time they’d touched, from that first amazing kiss, from the way he made her feel things no one else ever had.
“I love you,” she murmured against his lips, enjoying the feel of the words vibrating between them.
Slowly, a little reluctantly, he pulled back. He gazed into her eyes, that way he had that made her wonder if he could see right into her. She felt the answering flutter in her stomach.
“Are you happy?” he asked, his eyes glittering green and gorgeous in the fading sunlight.
“Happier than I ever dreamed.” She licked her lips.
His head tilted slightly in a
pparent concern, his gaze still searching hers. “Your mother is happy, too. She’s thrilled. Trust me.”
Rose nodded, feeling reassured. Reminding herself she could trust this man.
She laid her head on his chest. “A month without kissing you,” she said on a sigh.
“I know.” His fingers threaded through her hair, cradling her against him with tender possession. “How shall we survive?”
SIXTY-ONE
ROSE QUICKLY realized Kit had been right—Mum was thrilled. She often hummed to herself as she flitted about in a frenzy of preparations—penning invitation cards, considering menu options, and perusing fabric samples. One would have thought her in need of a respite after Lily’s recent nuptials, but Chrystabel Trentingham was a wedding planning wonder.
After a week without Kit, however, the bride herself was far less than thrilled. Letters simply weren’t an acceptable substitute for kisses. Irritable and restless, she saddled her horse and rode over to see her sister at Lakefield.
“It was the same with Ford and me,” Violet commiserated, setting aside a fat philosophy tome. “Those two weeks between our betrothal and wedding, we hardly caught a glimpse of each other. It was rather vexing.”
“‘Vexing’ is one way of putting it,” Rose grumbled.
“Especially since the whole time we were courting, Mum didn’t mention propriety once. She let us go off unchaperoned all the time.”
Pacing her sister’s pale turquoise drawing room, Rose was listening with half an ear. The rest of her was busy remembering the softness of Kit’s lips, the roughness of his hands, the way he liked to touch her dimples…
“Of course,” Violet went on, “Mum never suspected he was courting me. Probably because she couldn’t imagine Ford wanting me that way.”
“Violet!” Rose stopped and turned to face her.
Her sister’s eyes looked earnest behind their spectacles. “You know it was so. Mum was certain we were wrong for each other.”
“That’s right, I’d forgotten she thought Ford was too intellectual for you. Huh.” Rose frowned. “It’s not like her to be so imperceptive.”
“She must have a blind spot where her own daughters are concerned. Even more reason to be glad we avoided her matchmaking schemes.”
“I’ll say.” Rose sighed and resumed her pacing. “Kit and I used to have plenty of privacy, too—Mum even left me at his house once. Perhaps she thought us safe from impropriety because she believed I’d never fall for a commoner.”
Violet grinned. “Well, we both surprised her, didn’t we?”
AFTER TEN MORE days, Rose was a ball of restless, squirming tension. Citing concern for the bride-to-be’s mental state, Violet dragged her on a day visit to Lily’s house in Oxford. It was a journey of two hours, during which Rose’s tapping foot never stopped once.
“Mum did the exact same thing to me and Rand!” Lily exclaimed when they were settled in her drawing room. Swiveling on her petit-point stool, she turned away from the beautiful inlaid Flemish harpsichord Rand had surprised her with after their wedding. “Before our betrothal, she insisted on hosting Rand at Trentingham. She even asked me to keep him company, alone, on several occasions. But then after that—”
“Let me guess,” Rose said. “You felt like you were the Crown Jewels and Mum was hired to guard you?” When Lily nodded, Rose slumped in her elegant lemon-yellow chair. “She let you go to Rand at Hawkridge, though.”
“With you along to chaperone—and spy on us.”
Lily’s expression dared her to deny the truth. Surprised and sheepish, Rose didn’t dare. She wasn’t used to being challenged by Lily. My, how her sweet younger sister had changed since she’d won Rand.
“Anyhow,” Lily went on, “once Lord Hawkridge had consented to a wedding date, I was only allowed to see Rand once before we married. It was torture.”
“Sheer torture,” Rose agreed.
“I’m not sure the fact that Mum kept us apart once we were betrothed is really most relevant.” Violet removed her spectacles and wiped them with a handkerchief. “Frustrating, true, but that can be attributed to propriety, after all. I find it more odd that she left us all together with our men before we became betrothed. As if she had no concerns that anything untoward would happen.”
Lily shrugged. “She probably wasn’t worried about me and Rand, since everyone thought he was going to marry Rose.”
“That’s just it.” Replacing the spectacles, Violet blinked her eyes into focus. “I mean, no offense to Rose, but even I could tell you were the one Rand wanted, and I’m half blind.”
Rose pursed her lips. “What are you suggesting?”
Violet turned to her. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last week. That it’s unusual for Mum to misjudge people.”
“And?”
“And isn’t it curious that, after a perfect record matching dozens of other couples, she was so very wrong about all three of our matches?”
Rose looked to Lily, but Lily was looking elsewhere. “What other explanation is there?” she asked Violet.
“That she only pretended to be wrong.”
Rose narrowed her eyes. “To what end?”
“To…” Violet swallowed. “To arrange our matches without our knowledge.”
The room went very quiet. Violet stared at her lap, toying with the end of her plait. Lily rubbed an old scar on the back of her hand. Rose’s temples began to throb.
Lily’s cat rubbed against her skirts, seeming to sense her distress. She scooped it into her lap and rhythmically stroked the cat’s striped fur.
“It can’t be true,” Rose burst out.
“What can’t be true?”
The girls turned to see Lily’s husband standing in the drawing room entrance, unfastening his academic robe. His sudden appearance spooked the cat, who leapt away to join a sparrow and a squirrel that seemed to be chatting on the windowsill. Lily and Rand had moved to Oxford from his father’s estate only last week, just in time for Michaelmas Term to begin, but her animal friends had found her already.
“What can’t be true?” Rand repeated, draping his robe over the back of another yellow chair. He wore breeches, a shirt, and a waistcoat underneath.
For once, Lily’s big blue eyes didn’t soften with love and awe at the sight of her new husband. Instead they looked uneasy.
Rose answered for her. “Violet thinks Mum secretly arranged all our marriages.”
Rand’s face drained of color while his neck and ears turned bright red. Though his reaction betrayed some shock, it made an even greater impression of guilt.
Rose gasped. “You knew!”
“He only recently found out,” Lily mumbled, her eyes trained on her lap.
It was Violet’s turn to gasp. “You knew?”
Rand crossed to the sideboard and reached for a decanter of brandy.
“Lily,” Rose prompted through her teeth.
Lily rose from her petit-point stool. “Truly, we only just learned—”
“When?” Rose demanded.
“The first night Kit came to dinner at Trentingham. Ford told Rand—”
“Ford knew?” Violet cried.
“He didn’t know everything.” Rand pressed a goblet into Violet’s hand and watched her take a generous gulp. “Ford only knew that your mother had given him advice on how to win you.”
“Mum gave him advice?” Violet downed the rest of her drink.
Refusing the brandy Rand offered her, Rose rounded on Lily with daggers in her eyes. “You’ve known about this for weeks. Were you ever going to tell us?”
“I wanted to tell you, but I…” When Lily finally looked up, she flinched at Rose’s expression. “Violet, you have two beautiful new babies, and Rose, you’re about to get married. I just couldn’t bear the thought of spoiling all your happiness. I know I was wrong—”
“You’re deuced right you were wrong,” Rose huffed.
“Don’t blame her, Rose. This isn’t Lily’s fault
.” Violet’s knuckles were white from clenching the gilded arms of her chair. “It’s the fault of the knaves who lied to us.”
Rose’s jaw dropped. She’d never heard her sister call her husband a name that wasn’t nice.
“Who are you calling a knave?” Rand demanded. “I never lied. And Ford, he just—”
“Just kept this from me for four years?” Violet regarded her husband’s friend with overbright eyes.
Rand fell silent.
Lily rushed to her and wrapped her in her arms. “Oh, Violet, you know Ford hid it out of love for you. Because he feared upsetting you or even losing you.”
Violet made no reply.
Rand downed the brandy Rose hadn’t taken.
Rose’s voice pierced the heavy atmosphere. “And what of Kit?”
Lily didn’t release their sister, but turned her gaze on Rose.
“Has Kit kept this from me, too?” Rose’s eyes burned with suppressed tears. “Has Mum been advising him?”
The silence blanketing the room was all the answer she needed.
SIXTY-TWO
“WHAT WILL YOU do now?” Rose asked Violet that evening as their carriage neared home.
“Hmm?” Violet said vaguely. She was staring out the window, though Rose wasn’t sure why. In the dim twilight, naught was visible but the lumpy outlines of a few squat trees.
Rose tried again. “What will you do now that you…you know. Know.”
Her sister turned to look at her and shrugged, her hands twisting in her lap.
Poor Violet. Rose could scarcely imagine how she must feel. Kit’s deceit was devastating enough, and Rose had loved him only a few weeks. How much worse would it feel if she’d loved him for years? Shared a home and a life with him? Borne him children?
Good heavens, the children! Poor Nicky and Marc and Rebecca…and poor Rose, too. She’d hoped that focusing on everyone else’s woes would distract her from her own, but the tactic was failing utterly.
All through a tense dinner at Lily’s house, she’d speared bites of rabbit stew while imagining jabbing her fork into Kit’s lying face. She was sizzling with anger. How dare he talk to Mum behind her back? How dare the two of them scheme to influence her decisions? How dare they? She wanted to throttle them both.