They both swung to look at their ten-year-old brother where he stood with Violet’s young niece, Jewel, their dark heads close together as they whispered animatedly.
“He may have found himself a bride already,” Rose added dryly.
Lily’s giggle rang through the chapel, echoing off the molded dome ceiling. “Surely someone will claim you long before Rowan gets it in his head to wed. Why, you’re the prettiest of us all!”
Rose had always thought Lily the most pretty, but she knew she was pretty, too. Yet beauty, she’d learned, was not enough to hook a husband.
Well-wishers pressed closer. Rose began moving toward the drawing room and found Judith by her side. Forsaking her betrothed, Judith clutched Rose’s arm. “Who is that charming fellow?” she whispered conspiratorially.
Rose slid a glance to the fellow in question, a friend of Rand’s whose gaze suddenly found hers, then skimmed over her in a way that might have made her heart skitter…if she were at all interested. “That’s Mr. Christopher Martyn—Rand calls him Kit. He’s an architect,” she added dismissively.
Judith frowned. “The name sounds familiar…”
“King Charles recently awarded him a contract to renovate Whitehall Palace,” Rose admitted. “Among other commissions.” She happened to know that Windsor Castle and Hampton Court were also on Kit’s account books. But she didn’t want Judith to go getting the wrong idea. That he was someone of importance.
But Judith’s blue eyes grew round with awe. “He must be of great consequence to work for the king. And intelligent, too—no need to play the featherbrained country maiden for him.”
“I’ve no interest in playing anything for him. And I’ve never acted featherbrained.” But perhaps now was the time to start.
Her recent efforts to entice a certain gentleman—very well, to entice Rand—through intellectual conversation had failed. Hideously. So hideously that the object of her affection was at this very moment marrying her sister. What could be more hideous than that?
Nothing. Which was why she wouldn’t be making the same mistake again.
Unfortunately, where Rand was concerned, Rose’s mistakes had multiplied. Desperation had driven her to proposition him in a most unseemly manner, and when that hadn’t worked, in vexation and despair she’d attempted bribery and trickery of the worst kind.
She couldn’t imagine what had come over her that day and had feared she’d never be able to look Rand in the face again. But to her utter relief he seemed at ease with her, as though he’d graciously forgotten that humiliating episode.
“You cannot tell me,” Judith whispered, dragging Rose back to the present, “that you don’t think Mr. Martyn good-looking.”
Rose slanted Kit another covert look. Dressed in forest-toned velvet, he was tall and lean, his hair dark as jet, his eyes a startling mix of brown and green. She shrugged. “I suppose he’s handsome in a typical sort of way.”
Judith sighed. “He looks ever so nice. Do you think he’s nice?”
“He’s nice enough.” Except for those unusual eyes, which were decidedly not nice. Roguish would be a better description.
“And good Lord, he’s building things for the king! I’m certain he has money—“
“Money,” Rose interrupted pointedly, “does not make up for lack of a title.”
Her sister Violet walked up, sans children for once. “Who needs a title?”
Judith crossed her arms. “Lady Rose apparently wishes to become Lady Something-Higher.”
“Oh, well.” Violet sent Rose an indulgent smile. “That’s only because she has yet to fall in love.”
Rose smiled in return. “And given that it’s as easy to fall in love with a titled man as one without, I’ve decided to concentrate on the former.”
Violet and Judith exchanged a glance that set Rose’s teeth on edge, then left her, to return to their respective—titled—men.
Since Lily had given their mother barely two weeks to plan the event, the wedding party was small. Still, there were more than enough guests to fill the drawing room and spill out onto the Palladian portico and into the exquisite gardens. Trentingham Manor was known for its gardens, thanks to Rose’s father and his passion for flowers and plants.
But it was a warm, sunny day, and Rose feared for her creamy complexion, so she opted to stay indoors. She wandered the crowded drawing room, sipping from a goblet of the new and frightfully expensive champagne her parents favored for special celebrations. Although she enjoyed sharing a word or two with various relatives and neighbors, she was generally feeling at loose ends, not quite sure what to do with herself.
Until, that was, she heard her father’s voice and turned to see him addressing Kit Martyn.
“…one of those newfangled greenhouses,” Father was saying. “On the east side of the house, I’m thinking, to catch the morning sun. Since autumn is nearly upon us, I’d be much obliged if you could start it immediately.”
Rose couldn’t believe her ears. It was the second time her father had asked the esteemed architect to build him a lowly greenhouse.
Half tempted to ball up the lacy handkerchief she had tucked in her sleeve and stuff it into her father’s mouth, she hurried to join them. “Mr. Martyn builds things for the king, Father! Palaces, for heaven’s sake. He hasn’t—“
“Well, not quite palaces,” Kit corrected her. “Renovations to palaces, additions to palaces, but I’ve yet to build an entire—“
“See?” Rose met her father’s deep green eyes, speaking loudly and slowly to make sure he could hear her over the hubbub of the celebration. “Palaces. He hasn’t the time to build you a greenhouse.”
Kit sipped from his own goblet of champagne, then grinned at Rose’s father. “Oh, I think I might find the time,” he disagreed, his words infused with a hint of laughter. “In exchange for a dance with your lovely daughter.”
He shifted to look at Rose, making it clear which daughter he meant. His green-brown gaze swept her lazily, almost as though he were mentally assessing her…and Rose wasn’t certain she liked being assessed.
Lord Trentingham frowned. “My chubby doctor?”
Kit looked confused, and Rose knew she should remind him that her father was hard of hearing at the best
