His other arm went around her, and his hand pressed into the small of her back, drawing her against him. As the flower dropped from her fingers, his mouth came down on hers.
She stiffened, but he seemed to be enjoying himself too much to notice. When he deepened the kiss, she tried to relax and participate. She tried to learn to enjoy herself, too. But try as she might, kissing didn’t feel as wondrous as everyone else said it did. In fact, it didn’t feel like much at all beyond a damp, messy collision of mouths.
She was relieved when he pulled away—and even more relieved when her mother’s distinctive silvery laughter floated to her on the night air.
She spun away and leapt back onto the terrace. “Mum! And…you,” she added rather ungraciously as her gaze shifted to her mother’s right.
There stood Kit Martyn, looking handsome and mysterious in the low torchlight. A commoner in a plain suit had no right to look so good. She felt those champagne bubbles again, and she hadn’t even been drinking spirits.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him.
“Building a new dining room for the king. What have you been doing here?” he asked in a way that made it clear he thought he knew.
Rose felt herself turning red. For once, she appreciated the dark.
“She’s with me,” the duke said, sounding rather possessive. “Though what business is it of yours, I wonder?”
Picturing these two in a fistfight, Rose feared Kit might win. “Your grace,” she said quickly, “may I present Mr. Christopher Martyn. Kit, the Duke of Bridgewater.” She looked up at Gabriel. “He’s just a family friend,” she added, feeling it necessary to explain.
“And I asked Mr. Martyn to help me search for you,” her mother put in. “I felt it unsafe, as a lady, to be out in the dark alone.”
“Indeed, it wouldn’t have been wise.” Kit held Gabriel’s gaze until the duke looked away. “I’m glad to have been of service, but I must be off. I’ve much to accomplish before tomorrow. Lady Trentingham, Lady Rose.” He nodded toward them both, then addressed the duke with an elegant bow. “Your grace.”
Slightly disconcerted, Rose watched him walk away.
“We should return as well,” her mother told her. “I’m grateful to have found you in such safe hands.”
If Mum’s voice held a bit of warning, Rose chose to ignore it. She hadn’t been doing anything her mother would disapprove of, anyhow. Mum always said one ought to kiss a man before marrying him, to make sure it wasn’t disagreeable. Although Rose reckoned that in her own case, she’d just have to resign herself to her fate.
Seething with jealousy, she’d listened to Violet’s sighs over her first kisses with Ford, and watched from afar Lily’s tender kisses with Rand. But kisses had never been like that for Rose. In all honesty, she found them more than a little repulsive.
Of course, she’d never told her sisters as much, so she sometimes wondered if they, too, were concealing their disgust. But she thought not. Both her sisters were honest to a fault. How they could enjoy having their mouths mauled was beyond her, but apparently they did.
Still, on the way back to the drawing room, she couldn’t help smiling up at the duke. She’d liked the way he’d made it clear to the others that she was with him. He truly was perfect.
It wasn’t his fault she didn’t enjoy kissing.
ELEVEN
“I’M PLEASED.” King Charles nodded thoughtfully, his dark eyes skimming the dining room again with approval. “And I’m satisfied with your explanation, Mr. Martyn. Do be certain, however, to complete this project per schedule.”
“I can assure Your Majesty that will not prove a problem.” Kit walked with the king toward the double doors and threw them wide. “I thank you for taking the time to visit.”
Kit smiled as he watched King Charles make his way through the vestibule, several of the man’s ever-present spaniels yipping after him. After pulling the doors shut, he unfolded some tarpaulins and laid them near the side of the chamber that was supported by scaffolding. Then he strode through a door at the other end, along a corridor, and into Brick Court. “Come along, now! Beams, lumber—move!”
Dazed, he stepped aside to let the workmen through with the first of the new materials he’d ordered.
If it wouldn’t be such a bad example, he’d slump against the wall.
He’d passed.
He wandered back along the corridor and into the dining room, keeping out of his crew’s way. He’d been up all night—supervising, reevaluating, working with his own hands—while his men secured the damaged area and hauled away all evidence of the mishap. He’d attached countless strips of decorative molding, polished all the oak paneling, stripped off the tarpaulins and polished the new floor, too. All in hopes of charming the king’s eye.
He’d passed.
Dropping onto a fresh stack of wood and using it as a chair, he flipped blindly through a book of architectural renderings. He should go home; he was exhausted and needed to check in with his sister. Ellen had a habit of finding trouble when he wasn’t around.
The drawings before him blurred.
He’d passed.
All was not lost.
When the double doors reopened, his heart seized as he wondered wildly whether the king had some complaint, after all. Two ladies entered instead, and he sagged with relief. Then sat straight when he recognized them.
Lady Trentingham and Rose, both dressed in bright, cheerful colors. Surely a sight for tired eyes.
“Oh!” the countess exclaimed, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”
He wouldn’t wager on that.
“I just wanted to show Rose this beautiful chamber,” she added.
Kit shut his book. “I was about to leave, anyway. It’s time I went home.”
“Home? Surely you’re not finished here. It looks wonderful, but—”
“It’s stunning, Mum! Even better than you described.” Rose gazed up at the ceiling. “Beauty and whimsy all rolled into one.
