She met his gaze, her own forthright. “I’m wondering why you’ve spent the past three days avoiding my daughter.”
Kit slanted a look at Ellen. She’d stopped sulking and had her nose buried in her book. He would have to take a look and see what she was finding so fascinating.
In the meantime, though, he’d rather not have her privy to this conversation. “Would you mind stepping out onto the terrace?” he asked Rose’s mother. “I’ve a hankering for some fresh air.”
The pounding of hammers and scraping of saws receded as they exited the room, leaving a pleasant calm in their wake. The deserted terrace was silent but for their footsteps, the thud of his heavy boots and the click of her feminine heels.
“Well?” Lady Trentingham prompted. “Tell me what’s happened. I gather you kissed her.”
Kit froze. “H-how do you know that?” He felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. Would he ever have an exchange with this woman that didn’t take years off his life? Or was this to be their last exchange anyhow? She must be furious that he’d taken such liberties with her innocent, high-born daughter.
“My lady, I offer my deepest apologies. My conduct was shameful, and I don’t—”
Her chuckle was startling. “I’m not angry, Kit. I’ve always told my daughters they ought to kiss a man before agreeing to marry him—no more than kiss, you understand,” she added sternly. But she was still smiling. “And I’d say yours was an effective tactical move, given that Rose has been babbling about it ever since.”
Though Kit’s face was on fire, his ears perked up. “About kissing me?”
“About kissing her future husband. Presently, she seems to be seeking another gentleman with your skill. Interviewing them, you might say.”
His ears were suddenly filled with an odd rushing sound. “She’s kissing other men?”
“With very little success, from what I can tell. Though she unfortunately seems to be acquiring quite a reputation. As a mother, I’m rather concerned about that. I’m considering taking Rose home for a spell, rather than following the king directly to Hampton Court. Might you come see us at Trentingham?”
Kit’s head was spinning. Though he knew full well he had no right to be vexed at Rose for kissing other men, he couldn’t control his gut reaction.
His gut didn’t like it.
But nor did it like the thought of Rose leaving court.
He drifted to the edge of the terrace and gazed over the half wall at the darkened Thames Valley. “Even if I could think of a suitable pretext for visiting—”
“Such as my husband’s greenhouse?” she chimed in sweetly, coming up beside him.
His fingers clenched the stone railing. Just once, he’d like to be one step ahead of her for a change. “Such as, yes. Still, the fact remains that I’m needed here to oversee my work for the Crown. That’s why I haven’t had time to call on Rose in recent days. Raising my status at court is the best chance I have of winning her—and impressing the king is the first step toward that goal.”
The countess sighed. “I hate to separate you two just as you’ve caught her attention.”
Kit didn’t like the idea any more than she did. Though he’d spent no more than a few hours in Rose’s company, somehow—absurdly—he missed her. It seemed all he looked forward to was seeing her again. He’d never felt less enthusiasm for his work, or had so much trouble maintaining his focus. Stray thoughts kept intruding, thoughts of rosebud lips and adorable dimples and the scent of flowers…
And that kiss. That kiss had been…
He shook himself, wrenching his mind back to the present. Gripping the top of the wall so tightly that stone dug into flesh, he reminded himself that if he wanted the chance to keep kissing Rose, he had to put her from his mind for the present. He had to concentrate on getting back into the king’s good graces.
But if he neglected her too long, would he lose his chance anyhow?
“I’ve barely got this project back on schedule,” he muttered, then realized his fingers had begun to ache. He released the railing and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Give me a few days to ensure that it stays that way. Then I shall visit and pay court to Rose.”
“Very well.” Though dissatisfied, Lady Trentingham sounded resigned. “We will take our leave tomorrow afternoon.” Then she suddenly brightened. “But we still have tonight.”
TWENTY-ONE
EVEN THE KING had tried to steal a kiss!
As His Majesty and Rose had ended a minuet, he’d murmured his intentions in a low, velvet-edged voice and leaned close, apparently unconcerned that anyone might be watching. Right then, Gabriel had appeared to claim she’d promised him the next dance, which had been lucky for Rose, because she had no idea how to gracefully refuse a king.
And she’d had more than enough kissing for one night.
A good loser, Charles had gone away happily enough, smiling when he spotted Nell Gwyn sashaying into the chamber.
Now, as Rose and Gabriel performed the complicated steps of the galliard, she was aware of all the gazes on the two of them. Jealous gazes. The ladies were jealous because she’d captivated the most coveted bachelor at court. The gentlemen were jealous because he’d made his intentions crystal clear—and one didn’t elbow aside a duke.
All the attention was positively heady, and part of Rose was thrilled beyond belief. A duke, and such a handsome one at that!
If only the man could kiss.
She’d allowed four more attempts, trying vainly to coax him to change his style. When that hadn’t worked, she’d tried—really tried—to learn to enjoy his technique. Because, truth be told, she couldn’t imagine why she didn’t. It seemed to her that his kiss wasn’t actually all that different from Kit’s.
Some of the others had been positively boorish in their approach, but Gabriel didn’t fit in that category. He wasn’t too slobbery, his breath was pleasant, and he had the
