Kit pulled out Rose’s chair. “It’s late already. I believe I’ll return to Whitehall tonight and leave early in the morning.”
For a moment Ellen stood there openmouthed.
“What?” Kit asked.
“You plotted all along to get me and my luggage here, didn’t you? No wonder you didn’t bring your own things. You had no intention of leaving for Windsor at all.”
“We came tonight because we were invited. And I’ve urgent business in Windsor that I intend to take care of tomorrow. It doesn’t matter whether I travel there tonight or tomorrow morn. But believe what you wish…you will, anyway.” Sighing, he offered Rose an arm. “If I may, Lady Rose? I could use some fresh air.”
THIRTY-TWO
OUTSIDE, TORCHES burned brightly before each of the houses around St. James’s Square, bathing the neighborhood in a pale, hazy glow.
As they crossed to the fenced square, Rose felt Kit’s hand warm on her back. He slipped his other hand into his pocket and pulled out a small rock. “It’s quiet,” he said, turning it over and over with his fingers.
“Until recently, we wouldn’t dare come out here at night.” She paused to unlock the gate. “There were no rails—the square was just a big open area between the houses, used as nothing more than a receptacle for offal and cinders, not to mention all the dead dogs and cats of Westminster.” Rose silently congratulated herself on introducing what had to be the least romantic topic possible. “Squatters lived among the filth, and there were thieves galore,” she added with relish.
Any gentleman would be put off by such an unappealing speech.
Unfortunately, she’d forgotten that Kit was no gentleman. He merely looked interested, glancing about at all the stately three-story redbrick and stone houses. “Are these not the homes of dukes and earls?”
“Mostly. It was a travesty.” The gate banged closed behind them as they entered the square. “Once Parliament approved their application for permission to put up rails and plant trees, the dukes and earls wasted no time seeing it done.”
The dirty pavement had been replaced by soft grass and wide, curving paths with benches scattered throughout. Young trees rustled in the light breeze. When Kit slung his free arm around her shoulders, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.
Her will seemed to vanish whenever he touched her.
He was still playing with the rock. “What is that?” she asked.
He looked down as though surprised to see it there. “A piece of my first building,” he said with a small, sheepish smile. “Just a bit of brick.” He passed it to her.
It held the warmth of his hand and felt smooth, though she knew it must once have been angular. “Was it a church? A mansion? A theater?”
A rueful laugh broke the quiet of the night. “It was a warehouse. But I assure you, it’s the most beautiful warehouse to ever grace our good green earth.”
“I’m sure it is,” she said, imagining a redbrick warehouse with triangular pediments over the windows and white marble columns flanking the doors. Smiling, she handed back the brick.
He sobered as he slipped it into his pocket. “Will you watch over my sister?” he asked quietly.
“Why? Do you expect Ellen might run off and elope?”
She’d meant the question to be facetious, but he took it seriously. “From here? No. She won’t have time to get a message to Whittingham and pull off such a trick before I return.” His voice dropped. “I’m just worried for her. She’s not herself.”
“You care.”
“Of course I care.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you doubt that? She’s my sister. I love her.”
A horse clip-clopped around the square with a carriage creaking behind. “You two quarrel all the time.”
“Not all the time. Only since she met Whittingham.”
“Have you met him?”
“Briefly. Long enough to know he doesn’t have horns. But I want better for Ellen.” Kit hesitated a moment while the carriage squeaked off down King Street. “I work hard so she can have better.”
Rose had no doubt that the kind of money Kit had saved could win Ellen the husband he was envisioning. The Civil War had left many good families land-rich and cash-poor.
But Ellen was her friend, and she’d promised her support. “Thomas is actually quite nice. And, from what I can tell, he’s a very astute businessman.”
“He’s a pawnbroker.”
“He’s educated. If you’d talk to him, you’d discover that.”
“He’s still a pawnbroker. There’s no security in a life like that. My parents wed for love, then couldn’t protect their family when times got hard. I can buy Ellen a husband with land and the king’s ear—”
“There’s no security in any life,” Rose interrupted to point out. “Look to your own projects for the proof—going along fine one day, ruined the next. Titled men can be ruined, too. It happens all the time.”
Kit was silent a moment before he stopped walking and turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. “You said it’s as easy to fall in love with a titled man as one without. Have you changed your mind?”
His eyes searched hers, and frustration was evident in his voice. But he also sounded hopeful. Which was absurd. They would never be anything but friends.
“Of course not,” she said quickly.
“Oh,” he said. “I see.”
“You see what?”
“You wouldn’t settle for less, but Ellen and I, we’re different. An educated pawnbroker is good enough for her, and as for me, I’m good enough for kissing, but nothing else.”
He was confusing her—and worse, he was making her sound terrible. Although she couldn’t imagine how Kit and Ellen had managed to become so close to her family so quickly, she liked them—and she didn’t think herself any better than they.
Did she?
Kit’s fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Rose?”
Her thoughts were in chaos. When she tried to twist away, he held her fast. His gaze commanded hers, looking gray in the darkness.
“Perhaps that was exhaustion speaking,” he said. “I haven’t slept in
