“Here? Now?” His eyes widened, becoming more green than brown.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she rushed out, cursing herself silently for her habit of speaking before she thought. “I just…well, I just want to see how you do it.”
He looked amused. “Like anyone else does it, I imagine.”
He was wrong, so wrong, about that. As he moved closer, the little bubbles began dancing in her stomach.
He was very, very wrong.
His gaze locked on hers, now purest green with only flecks of brown. Flecks she was close enough to see. Though his scent was light, it still overwhelmed her—that woodsy perfume mixed with the dust of the construction site and a sweet tinge of ink.
“Are you certain you want a kiss now?” he teased back. “Right here, in front of the entire court?”
“Haven’t you heard?” a gentleman cut in. “Our Lady Rose quite enjoys kissing.”
Startled, Rose turned to find Lord Davenport standing behind her. She’d kissed him last night and been disappointed, but at least he’d had good manners.
“Greetings, my dear Lady Rose,” he said and bent to kiss her again, right there—as Kit had said—in front of the entire court.
But before his lips could touch hers, she felt herself pulled out of the way. She would have fallen if not for Kit’s steadying hands…but then, it was he who had yanked her off balance in the first place.
“Why on earth did you do that?” she snapped, though she’d been about to dodge the unwanted kiss herself. Wriggling out of Kit’s arms, she turned to glare at him. “You’ve insulted Lord Davenport!”
Kit’s mouth fell open. “But he…you weren’t…” Pausing to gather himself, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Rose, I—”
“Ah, there you are.”
She whirled to find that Lord Davenport had fled…only to be replaced by the Duke of Bridgewater.
Gabriel wore a charming smile. “You promised me this dance, if I’m remembering right?”
She hadn’t, but before she could say so he was leading her away.
“I don’t like seeing other men touch you,” Gabriel said.
“Then don’t look,” she suggested, laughing when he began to protest. “I didn’t encourage him,” she soothed.
“Shall I call him out, then?”
“Gemini, no!” She laughed again, furtively searching for Kit. He was nowhere to be found. “You’re ten times the man he is, your grace. He’s not worth your time.”
The duke’s pretty blue eyes sparkled, telling her he liked hearing that.
They danced an almain and once again received jealous glances from gentlemen and ladies alike. Gabriel was a perfect gentleman. But after the dance, when he contrived to draw her behind the curtains, she sighed.
If only she enjoyed his kisses instead of dreading them, life would be so much better.
They weren’t the only couple in the big bay window. In one corner, two figures were locked in a passionate embrace.
“Don’t look,” Gabriel whispered, turning her to face the other corner.
There, another couple was entwined, and the lady’s skirts appeared to be hiked up to her knees! Rose was uncomfortably reminded of the engravings in Ellen’s book.
She needed air.
“I wish to go outdoors,” she told Gabriel.
“Excellent idea. There’s a distinct lack of privacy in this area.”
She hadn’t meant with him; she’d endured four of his kisses tonight, and she didn’t intend to suffer a fifth.
As they emerged from behind the curtains, Rose looked around for rescue, relieved to meet the gaze of Viscount Hathersham. She’d kissed him two nights ago, and he hadn’t been that bad. At least not bad enough that she couldn’t risk encouraging him a little if it might save her from another private outing with the duke.
“Lord Hathersham!” she called, waving him closer. “I completely forgot that I’d promised you the next dance.”
She hadn’t, of course, but thankfully he wasn’t dim enough to say so. He bowed and took her by the hand, raising it to his lips. His kiss was a bit damper than she’d remembered, but at least it was to her hand, not her mouth. “The next dance will be my pleasure, Lady Rose. And well worth the wait.”
As they moved toward the dance floor, Rose sent Gabriel what she hoped he would take as an apologetic look.
“I never asked you to dance,” the viscount said in a low tone that she imagined he thought seductive.
“Well, you should have,” she told him with a smile.
“You feel we two are suited, then?”
“For a dance.”
Though a vigorous country dance would have been more to her liking, the musicians had chosen a minuet. As the dancers went to their toes, the viscount pulled Rose near. “I’m hoping I can persuade you we’re suited for more than a dance.” One of his hands slipped around her and rested on the small of her back. “You move nicely,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“I have nice moves as well.” When she tried to gain some distance, he pressed her even closer. “Especially,” he added, “in bed.”
Panicking, she forced a girlish giggle. “Oh, my lord! There’s no bed here at court.”
“We can find one,” he murmured as his hand began to drift lower.
“My lord!” She twisted subtly out of his embrace, not wanting to make a scene. “That is hardly appropriate,” she told him in a voice colder than the ice sculpture that decorated the refreshment table.
“But, my lady—”
“Hush up and dance!”
She held herself in check, though she wanted to rant and rave—and perhaps bash him over the head with something good and heavy. The Chinese vase on that silver table would do nicely.
The nerve of him!
When the dance ended, she muttered a stiff “Thank you, my lord,” and bolted for the solitude of the terrace.
TWENTY-FIVE
“SHE’S DISTRESSED,” Lady Trentingham said, standing with Kit in a dark corner of the drawing room. “And she’ll be alone out there on the terrace. Go to her.”
“I’d wager she won’t be alone for long,” Kit predicted. A safe bet, given the Duke of Bridgewater was wandering
