But she couldn’t seem to speak. The impertinence—thinking he could trade a building for her company! Surely her father would never—
“I’ll be most pleased to build your greenhouse,” Kit reiterated a bit louder, “if your lovely daughter will grant me a dance.”
“Plant what in grass?”
Understanding dawned in Kit’s eyes. “A dance,” he shouted. “May I have the honor of a dance with Lady Rose?”
“Oh, yes. Of course,” her father said. “Now, about that greenhouse—“
“I’ll do a preliminary design before I leave,” Kit all but bellowed.
“Excellent.” Lord Trentingham turned a vague smile in Rose’s direction. “Run along, my dear. Enjoy yourself.”
Her mouth dropped open, then shut when she found herself propelled from the drawing room by a warm hand at her back. Then she was stepping out onto the covered portico, which had been pressed into service as a dance floor.
Three musicians in one corner were playing a minuet, a graceful dance that facilitated conversation. The wedding guests chatted and flirted, their shoes brushing the brick paving in unison. Though the dance was already in progress, Kit handed both their champagne goblets to a passing maid, took Rose’s hands, and swept her into the throng.
She’d never touched him—certainly not skin to skin—and the contact reminded her of her reaction to him the first time they met. The mere sight of him had set her nerves to jangling inside her, and she was not a nervous girl. But that, of course, had been before she’d discovered he was a plain mister. Since then, seeing him had had no effect on her at all.
So it was disconcerting to find that touching him now seemed to make the champagne bubbles dance in her stomach.
“Lovely Corinthian capitals on the columns and pilasters,” Kit noted, ever the architect. “Do you know who carved them?”
She pliéd and stepped forward with her right foot at the same time she finally found her tongue. “Edward Marshall, who also carved the Ashcroft family arms in the pediment. And in future, please keep in mind that there’s no cause to seek my father’s permission for a dance. Ashcroft women make their own decisions.”
“So Rand has told me,” Kit said, breezing over the implication that she might have refused him.
They rose on their toes, and when he pulled her closer, she caught a breath of his scent. A woodsy fragrance with a base of frankincense and myrrh. It smelled nice, she thought, wondering if she could duplicate it in her mother’s perfumery.
“Your family is an odd one,” he said. “I don’t allow my sister to make her own decisions. Not the important ones, in any case.”
She felt sorry for his sister. “Our family motto is Interroga Conformationem.”
He looked at her blankly.
“Question Convention,” she translated. What sort of educated gentleman didn’t know Latin? Certainly not one she’d ever consider husband material.
It was a good thing he wasn’t in the running.
They dropped hands to turn in place, then he grasped her fingers again. “Is it true, as Rand said, that your father allows his daughters to choose their own husbands as well?”
She noticed Lily and Rand dancing together—much closer than the dance required. Surprisingly, envy didn’t clutch at her heart this time. She only smiled. “Yes.”
“In future, I’ll keep that in mind,” Kit responded with a disarming grin.
Ignoring his impertinence, Rose gazed across the wide daisy-strewn lawn toward the Thames. Just then, her brother Rowan raced onto the portico, looking like a miniature version of their father in a burgundy suit, his long midnight hair streaming behind him.
A quite ordinary-looking man followed more sedately, but as he wore red and white—the king’s livery—he attracted more attention.
The musicians stopped playing, and the dancers ground to a halt.
“There he is,” Rowan said, pointing to Kit in the sudden silence. “Mr. Christopher Martyn, the man you seek.”
Like it? Buy it!
BOOKS BY LAUREN & DEVON ROYAL
For more information, click on a cover.
The Chase Brides
Regency Chase Brides
Renaissance Chase Family Series
Specially Prices Boxed Sets
ENTER LAUREN & DEVON’S CONTEST
Win a sterling silver replica of the pendant that Rand gives Lily in this book!*
Visit the contest page on Lauren & Devon’s website and answer a question to be entered in the monthly drawing.
No purchase necessary. See complete rules on the site.
*Please note: Depending on when you enter, the prize may be another piece of jewelry associated with one of Lauren and Devon’s books.
ABOUT LAUREN & DEVON ROYAL
LAUREN ROYAL decided to become a writer in the third grade, after winning a “Why My Mother is the Greatest” essay contest. Now she’s a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of humorous historical romance novels. Lauren lives in Southern California with her family and their constantly shedding cat. She still thinks her mother is the greatest.
DEVON ROYAL is the daughter of romance novelist Lauren Royal. After attending film school, she wrote an award-winning TV comedy pilot and spent several years working in digital video production before turning her focus to fiction writing. Devon lives in Southern California with her husband. She also thinks her mother is the greatest.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Ayn Rand, for the concepts behind Violet's philosophical musings on love at first sight.
To our Chase Family Readers’ Group, for their enthusiastic support.
And, last but certainly not least, to all of our wonderful readers, especially those of you who send emails and post about our books on Twitter and Facebook.
Thank you, one and all!
LAUREN & DEVON ROYAL’S
CONTACT INFORMATION
Website
Newsletter
Chase Family
