“I’m sure she’d appreciate you whisking her away for a spell.”
“She didn’t seem to appreciate me earlier,” he said sourly, remembering her hostility outside the ladies’ attiring room.
A short laugh escaped the countess’s lips. “My prickly Rose. But surely a resilient fellow like you can’t be frightened off by a few thorns?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “You can find solitude, yes? You know this castle better than anyone.”
Kit eyed the woman curiously. “Aren’t you a mite concerned about letting your daughter go off alone with a young man? I thought chaperones were supposed to abhor that sort of thing.”
Lady Trentingham’s lips quirked. “Are you saying you’ll divest Rose of her innocence at the first opportunity?”
“Of course not!” He was fairly certain he’d just blushed all the way down to his toes. “I would never—”
“Indeed, I trust that you wouldn’t. Though of course everyone gets carried away at times.” Her expression subtly shifted, her eyes glittering with something that wasn’t quite menace, but wasn’t friendliness, either. “I believe in giving my children the freedom to learn from their own mistakes. Rose is nineteen, and thus entitled to a measure of privacy. But please know, Kit, that I am not remiss in my chaperoning duties. I may not always be by my daughter’s side, but I always know what she’s getting up to.”
Kit swallowed hard. “I see.”
She gave him a little push. “Now, go. I’ll keep an eye on Ellen.”
He went, quickly, feeling foolish as he elbowed his way past the more sedate duke and handily beat him outdoors. This whole endeavor had become an exercise in humiliation. Here he was, a grown man shirking his responsibilities, jeopardizing his livelihood, and literally shoving people out of the way, all in pursuit of a girl. A girl who, though she appeared perfectly willing to flirt with him in private, never hesitated to point out his inferior status in company. On top of which, there was her mother—her mother—orchestrating their relationship and critiquing Kit’s every move.
His masculine pride was more than bruised. It was beaten to a pulp.
But that all floated to the back of his mind when he saw her standing at the edge of the terrace. Silhouetted in the moonlight, she gazed over the darkened Thames Valley.
“Rose,” he called softly as he approached.
She started, then turned, looking amused. “Kit? You always turn up.”
Mercifully, she seemed to have forgotten she’d been angry with him. He glanced back, noting the duke had made it out to the terrace. “Would you fancy a stroll?” he asked her quickly, already taking her arm.
She fell into step beside him. “Where will we stroll to?”
“Just around the courtyards, or—”
“Lady Rose!”
“It’s Gabriel,” she whispered, walking faster. “Ignore him.”
“Don’t you like him?”
“Of course I like him! He’s a duke!” She sped up, walking amazingly quickly considering her high heels. “I just need to leave court for a while, that’s all.”
Her mother really was quite perceptive. “And why is that?” he asked, steering her around a corner.
“I’m making a fool of myself here,” she said with a sigh, never one to mince words. “I wish to break the cycle.”
He laughed, casting another glance back. Thankfully, they seemed to have lost the duke. “A fool?” he echoed, enjoying the coincidence of their similar mental states. Perhaps love made a fool out of everyone.
Not that he was in love. He hadn’t meant love. Not love love. Just—romance. Courtship. That sort of thing.
He tugged at his cravat, feeling suddenly hot though it was a cool evening. “I think you’re mistaken. It’s quite obvious all the men like you.”
Men like that popinjay who had tried to kiss her.
“And all the ladies hate me.” He could hear the pout in her voice.
“They’re only jealous,” he soothed.
“I know that.”
As he led her through a small courtyard, he laughed again, enjoying her candor.
“They’re vulgar bores, anyway,” she declared. “But a girl needs friends. I miss my sisters. I enjoyed talking with Ellen.”
“She enjoyed you, too. She’s in a much better mood now. Thank you for that.”
She waved a hand. “I cannot think what I did, besides possibly offer friendship.”
“She needs friends, too. Of late, she spends all her time with him.” He steered her around the Round Tower. “What was the title of the book she brought along?”
“I won’t know until I translate it,” Rose said glibly.
So glibly he suspected it was a fib. That book was making him more and more curious.
She stopped before the castle gate and turned to face him. Torchlight danced over her fine features, highlighting her puzzled smile and the charming little indents it made in her cheeks.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He hadn’t known, but now he did. “To the river, if it pleases you.”
TWENTY-SIX
ROSE KNEW SHE shouldn’t have left the castle, especially with a man. But she’d wanted so much to escape. And Kit was a friend.
She’d never had a male friend before.
“It’s quiet out here,” she said.
“Unlike your friends at court, most of the townfolk rise with the dawn and seek their beds when the sun sets.”
“I guess that’s why none of the windows are lit.” The hill was steep, the uneven cobblestones treacherous. “It’s so dark.” A little wobble in her voice matched a sudden lurch in her gait.
He reached to steady her. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”
“No,” she snapped, then added, “Well, maybe. A little,” when she caught him looking at her sideways.
What was it about him that made her spill her most embarrassing secrets?
She waited for him to laugh, but he didn’t. “I’d know the way with my eyes closed,” he said. “Here, take my hand.”
She did, though she knew she shouldn’t be doing that either. But Kit’s fingers felt nice linked with hers, comforting instead of intimidating, though his palm was rougher than those of the court gentlemen. Work worn, she supposed. And while she was holding his hand, the night didn’t seem quite as dark.
At the bottom of the
