Or at least not the desired effect.
There was only one solution: She’d have to allow Kit to kiss her again. Once she’d discerned his method, it ought to be a simple matter to explain to Gabriel what she wanted. Practice, after all, should make perfect.
If only the practice weren’t so disagreeable.
“Thank you, your grace,” she said kindly when the dance came to an end. She loved calling him your grace, not to mention imagining being called your grace herself. She noticed the musicians set down their instruments. “Is the dancing over so early?” she asked with a frown.
“Only temporarily.” Gabriel gestured to another corner of the room. “I believe Nell is about to grace us with an entertainment.”
Chairs had been arranged to leave the corner open as a stage of sorts. Rose and the duke drifted closer as the performance began, a clever comedy mocking court life and filled with bits of song and dance. It seemed Nell had brought friends, for other actors and actresses took the makeshift stage along with her. When the brief play ended, the chamber burst into applause, the king’s the loudest of all.
“Extraordinary!” he exclaimed, the remnants of laughter still on his face. “Extraordinary!”
Laughing herself, Nell swept him an exaggerated bow. “Then, sir, to show you don’t speak like a courtier, I hope you’ll make the performers a handsome present.”
Charles made a great show of patting his velvet clothing. “I have no money about me.” He turned to his brother, the Duke of York. “Have you any coin, my dear James?”
His eyes dancing, the duke shrugged. “I believe, sir, not above a guinea or two.”
Laughing harder, Nell turned in a circle, her arms outstretched. “Od’s fish,” she cried, borrowing the king’s favorite oath, “what company have I got into?”
Rose laughed along with everyone else. Nell’s charm was difficult to resist.
Gabriel tucked a hand beneath her elbow. “Shall we adjourn to the North Terrace?” he asked politely.
Not again. Her high spirits quickly faded. “I think not. I feel, um, a bit peaked. I should like to find my mother and see if she’s ready to leave.”
“Already? The gaming hasn’t even started.”
And she’d wanted to try that. But not as much as she wanted to escape now. Somewhere—anywhere—where she could find a few moments of peace.
“I believe I saw my mother head in that direction,” she said, indicating the portion of the castle that was under construction—an area she suspected the fastidious duke would have no wish to enter. “I thank you for the dances.”
Without looking back, she hurried away, hoping he wouldn’t follow and heaving a sigh of relief when she made it into the unfinished vestibule without hearing any footsteps behind her. Thinking to hide herself even better, she slipped into the half-built dining room and sagged against an exquisitely carved wall.
This late at night, she’d expected the room to be deserted, but it wasn’t. Across the chamber, Kit and Ellen were having words.
“Let me see it,” he said, reaching toward his sister. “Why should it be a secret?”
“It’s mine,” Ellen shot back, clutching a book to her chest. “Why do you have to stick your nose into everything that’s mine?”
Dazed, Rose just watched. It struck her that in his fine but plain suit, with his gleaming black hair free instead of tucked beneath a wig, Kit looked anything but aristocratic. His skin was browned from working outdoors, and he carried his lean, rangy form with a steady ease, not the controlled posture necessary to carry off the weight of layers of heavy fabric and ornamentation.
In an odd way, she found the lack of fussiness appealing. But she wanted an aristocratic husband.
It was a good thing he was just a friend.
“Rose!” Ellen exclaimed, spotting her and abandoning Kit to hurry over. “I was hoping to see you tonight.”
“Were you?” Rose asked.
“I brought a book I’d like you to translate.”
“Did you?” Her gaze still fastened on Kit, Rose seemed to be reduced to two-word responses.
“Will you try?” Grabbing Rose by the arm, Ellen pulled her down the length of the chamber. “I’m dying to find some fresh air—this place is filled with sawdust.”
Before Rose could protest, Ellen had propelled her out a door at the end of the chamber. As it shut behind them, Rose sneaked another glance at Kit. The last she saw of him was those glittering green-brown eyes.
It should be a crime for a commoner to be so attractive.
TWENTY-TWO
ELLEN LED ROSE down a long back corridor, around a corner, and out into a small brick courtyard. Unlike Horn Court with its uniformed guards and staircase to the king’s chambers, this area was lit by a single torch and held nothing but stacks of building supplies and a weathered wooden table with two chairs. Rose gratefully dropped onto one of them, amused to hear assorted bangs, scrapes, and curses coming from the building to her right.
“We’re nearly back where we started, aren’t we?”
Ellen took the second chair. “The dining room is on the other side of that new wall, yes.”
Despite the sounds of construction, the courtyard seemed private enough. “So…why wouldn’t you show Kit the book?”
“He wouldn’t like it. He’d probably lock me in my chambers so I could never see Thomas again.”
“Oh?” Though Rose felt drained, her curiosity was stronger. “May I see it?”
“In a minute.” Ellen laid the book on the table and ran a finger over the gold lettering that gleamed in the torchlight. “Kit drew a picture of you.”
“I know. I saw it. It was very well done. I had no idea he was an artist.”
“He’s not. Or not anymore. He used to draw all the time, and paint, too.” Ellen’s voice was so melancholy, Rose’s throat tightened just hearing it. “Da used to bring extra wood home
