“Not at all.” Looking disappointed, Ellen reached to turn the page. “Maybe try this one.”
When Rose saw the engraving, she slammed the book shut again. “You’ve looked at all the pictures?”
“Of course.”
After taking a moment to collect herself, Rose drew a shaky breath. “Where did you get this?” she asked Ellen.
“I found it in Thomas’s shop.”
“Someone pawned this book?”
“People pawn everything. Jewels and pottery and pistols and swords…it’s like a treasure trove, I’m telling you. My favorite place in the world. You should pay a visit, Rose. The shop is right on the High Street.”
Rose had never thought she’d like a pawnshop—they were seedy places, from what she’d heard. Disreputable, along with their owners. “Does Thomas have other foreign books?”
“Not like this one,” Ellen said with a wicked smile. “But yes, I’ve noticed other books that aren’t in English. This book was part of a whole library someone pawned; I don’t think Thomas ever looked through the titles to see what he had.” Her eyes filled with hope. “Please, would you translate the rest of the first poem?”
Rose felt her cheeks heat; in fact, she couldn’t remember blushing so much in her whole life as she’d done since coming to court.
She was caught out. This book made her mighty uncomfortable, though the words seemed perhaps less objectionable than the pictures. Part of her felt she ought to go straight to Kit so he could take the book away from Ellen—but another part recoiled at the very idea. Given how protective he was of his sister, there was no telling how he’d react.
Rose needed to consider this carefully.
“I shall take the book back to my apartments,” she told Ellen, “and write down the translation. That will give me a chance to puzzle out some of the less common words.” And decide what should be done about all this, she added silently.
And in the meantime, young Ellen would be prevented from further study of those unseemly engravings.
“When will you bring me the translation?” Ellen asked eagerly. “Tomorrow morning, at the pawnshop?”
“It’s past midnight already.” Rose stood with a yawn. “And will Kit even allow you to go to the pawnshop?”
“He has to sleep sometime,” Ellen said with a mischievous smile. “And when he does succumb, he sleeps like the dead. I manage to sneak out easily enough. After he wakes, though, he’ll surely drag me back here while he works all the day.”
“And half the night,” Rose agreed.
Kit was the hardest working person she’d ever met.
“Probably.” Ellen sighed. “Will you visit the pawnshop tomorrow, then? In the morning?”
“I’ll try,” Rose hedged, thinking she was rather curious to meet this Thomas Whittingham. Collecting the book, she led her younger friend back to the dining room.
Kit was up on a ladder inspecting something or other. He’d removed his surcoat and wore only shirtsleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows. Rose couldn’t help noticing he had muscular forearms sprinkled with crisp black hair.
“Did you two have a nice visit?” he asked. As he climbed down the ladder, Rose saw muscles moving under his thin white cambric shirt, too. She hadn’t sipped any champagne tonight, but her stomach seemed to think she had, anyway.
“Very,” Ellen said, but Rose couldn’t remember what the girl was responding to. She was thinking Kit must carry big beams all the day to have developed such muscles. And she was thinking about how she’d decided to let him kiss her again. Just to find out what he did differently from Gabriel.
And then she was remembering how soft his lips had felt, and how he’d drawn a picture of the real Rose.
She didn’t like where these thoughts were leading.
“How did the translation go, then?” he wondered, his gaze on the book in Rose’s hands.
She knew he was hoping to get his hands on it. “It was more difficult than Ellen had anticipated, so I’m going to take it home to work on it. Please excuse me. I must go find my mother.”
She felt very relieved to escape. At least until she walked back into the drawing room and saw two gentlemen descending on her. Gabriel approached from one side, and from the other came someone she had yet to meet.
Though the stranger wasn’t as handsome as the duke—or Kit—he might be a good kisser. But for some reason she had no interest in finding out. Not to mention she was holding a scandalous book clutched to her chest.
She had to get rid of it.
When Gabriel got to her first, the other suitor turned away dejectedly. “Pardon me, your grace,” she said quickly. “I was just heading to the ladies’ attiring room.”
“Are you quite all right?” Gabriel asked, his blue eyes radiating concern.
He really was terribly nice. “Oh, yes. I’m just feeling a bit, um, peaked.”
“Still?”
“It’s all the excitement, I’m certain,” she told him with a romantic sigh.
When he smiled, she knew she’d succeeded in convincing him he was responsible for her excitement. Leaning close, he lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. “I do hope you’ll be feeling better soon.”
She didn’t care for his perfume. It was too sweet. “Oh, I’m certain I will,” she said blithely and sailed out of the chamber.
Blessedly, the attiring room was empty. She stuffed the book under her cloak and dropped onto one of the green baize benches.
She really was feeling a little bit peaked.
TWENTY-THREE
“KIT,” HIS SISTER said a few minutes later. “I need to talk to you.”
“One moment, Ellen.” He turned back to inspecting the latest materials that had arrived.
“I need to talk to you now,” she yelled across the courtyard.
“It will do nicely,” he told his new foreman, then took a deep breath and strode over to his sister, thinking, not for the first time, that he was mad to keep bringing her here every night. “What
