Instead of bristling, she looked smug. “Lady Trentingham wishes to see you.”
He slanted her a suspicious look. “Lady Trentingham doesn’t even know who you are.”
“Could that be because you weren’t polite enough to introduce me?” She straightened her slim shoulders. “Well, she noticed me, anyway. Came right up and introduced herself, then asked where she might find you. I gather she looked in the dining room, but of course you were out here.”
“Where did she find you?”
“On the terrace. She’s waiting for you there.”
He headed in that direction, wondering just what Ellen had been doing out on the terrace now that she no longer had her book to occupy her.
He admitted to himself that this arrangement must be even more frustrating for her than it was for him. It couldn’t be pleasant having to entertain oneself all evening long. But he didn’t feel as though he had a choice. If he left her at home, she’d surely run off to enjoy the company of that wretched pawn dealer. Doing goodness knew what.
He certainly didn’t want to know.
Life had been so much simpler when he was off at school and Lady St. Vincent was still alive and caring for Ellen. He and his sister had spent glorious times together during the weeks he’d been able to visit. They’d never argued.
Well, rarely. Only when she’d begged him to take her back to school with him.
He stopped in the dining room long enough to shrug back into his surcoat before stepping out to the terrace.
Lady Trentingham turned in a swish of golden brocade skirts. “Kit. Ellen found you.”
“I apologize for not introducing you earlier.”
She waved that off. “I knew at first glance you were related. She looks just like you. A little prettier,” she added with a smile.
He grinned back. “I should hope so.”
“I wanted to let you know that my daughter is in the ladies’ attiring room. If you can play truant for a bit, I’d like you to be there when she comes out.”
Kit hesitated, suspecting from Lady Trentingham’s tone that this was more of an order than a request. He was dying to spend time with Rose, but still determined to avoid distractions. “Rose was here a while ago, my lady,” he said instead of answering. “She mentioned that she was looking for you.”
“Is that so?” The countess reached to straighten his cravat. “Well, she’s going to find you instead.”
TWENTY-FOUR
ROSE HAD NEARLY steeled herself to venture forth from the attiring room when two young women walked in.
“Oh,” the blond one said when she spotted her. “You’re here.”
Rose didn’t care for her tone. She wanted to slap her across her pinched face. But she also wanted to be liked here at court, so she plastered on a smile. “I’m Rose Ashcroft. And you are…?”
“Lady Wyncherly.”
“And I’m Lady Wembley.” The other girl joined her friend at the large gilt-framed mirror. Her hair was so black Rose imagined she dyed it and used a lead comb.
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady…” Willoughby? Wemperley? “Ladies. You’re both married, then?”
“Yes,” they said in unison, and then the dark-haired one added, “and you’re not.”
For once, Rose could think of worse things than being unmarried. Like being one of these harpies.
The blond Lady W touched a pimple on the other’s face. “Right there,” she said.
Her friend glared at herself in the mirror. “Stuff and bother, another one.”
The blonde pulled a tiny silver box out of her drawstring purse. “Here, choose a patch.”
While the pimpled Lady W rummaged through the box with a fingertip, the blond one turned to Rose. “Why aren’t you busy kissing someone?”
Rose was rapidly concluding it was just as well none of the women here seemed to like her, because she certainly didn’t like them. But she decided to ignore the slur. “I’m resting until the gaming.”
“There won’t be any gaming tonight,” pimpled Lady W said, choosing a crescent-shaped patch.
“No gaming?” Rose echoed, dismayed.
Blond Lady W pulled some adhesive from her purse and dotted it on the back. “Haven’t you heard?” She stuck the black velvet on her friend’s face. “This will be an early evening, because we’re all leaving for Hampton Court tomorrow. Will you be coming along?”
She sounded as though she hoped not.
“I’m not sure,” Rose told her. She’d found no opportunity to discuss it yet with Mum. Half of her wanted to go to Hampton Court just to spite these two, while the other half thought the peace of Trentingham Manor sounded like heaven.
Unfortunately, there were no potential husbands at home.
The blonde chose a patch for herself—a cupid—even though she was already wearing nine and had no pimple to cover. Patches were quite in fashion, and Rose wore one herself—a small heart at the outside edge of her right eyebrow—but she thought the woman’s face looked diseased with so many black shapes all over it.
Maybe blond Lady W was diseased. Maybe most of the patches were hiding hideous smallpox scars. Although Rose knew it wasn’t nice of her, the thought made her smile.
“What?” the Lady Ws barked together.
Rose shrugged and sauntered out of the little chamber. She was certain they started talking about her the moment she cleared the door—and she doubted they had anything positive to say. It was a good thing she didn’t care.
Stepping into the drawing room, she stopped short at the sight of Kit. He shifted from foot to foot, gazing into space and looking uncomfortable. Well, he didn’t belong here at court, so that wasn’t such a surprise. Perhaps the king wanted the drawing room renovated too, and he was studying it.
She noticed Kit was taller than she, but not terribly much taller. Maybe half a head, while she only came up to Gabriel’s chin. Kit didn’t make her feel petite like the duke did.
He finally observed her. “Rose,” he greeted with a smile.
No Lady. Did that mean he considered her a friend now?
“Kit. Finished
