“That wasn’t always the case, and he never minded working. And it didn’t bother me to think of marrying him when he did have to work. In fact, it didn’t bother you, either, if I recall correctly. You were perfectly willing to chase Rand when he was only a professor.”
“He was never only a professor.” Rose didn’t care for Lily’s affronted tone, nor for the reminder of how foolishly she’d pursued her sister’s husband. “Even before he became an earl, he was Lord Randal Nesbitt.”
“There’s nothing wrong with work,” Lily insisted.
“Of course there isn’t!” Frustrated, Rose pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. She rubbed her face as her sisters came up beside her. “It’s only that I had a plan for my life, and this man isn’t part of it.”
“Is he poor?” Violet asked.
“No,” she said, thankful she could say that at least, else she’d get the same kind of tirade from Violet that she’d just heard from Lily. Violet’s husband, after all, had been poor as a churchmouse when they met.
“It’s Kit, isn’t it?” Lily suddenly guessed.
“No,” Rose denied quickly, then sighed at Lily’s perceptive gaze and added, “How did you know?”
“I’ve both eyes and ears in my head. You’re surprisingly familiar with his projects, and you cannot deny you thought him handsome the day you met. And he was drawn to you, too. I was there, if you’ll remember. And he is not totally unsuitable.”
“I want to love the duke,” Rose wailed.
“Sometimes,” Violet said softly, “we cannot choose these things.”
All three of them sighed in unison.
Lily reached to cover Rose’s hands where she’d clenched them together in her lap. “At least Mum isn’t trying to match you with Kit,” she offered with forced cheerfulness.
“That’s right,” Violet said. The one thing they’d all agreed on, from the time they were small girls, was that they didn’t want any part of their mother’s matchmaking schemes. “She’s taking you to Hampton Court to spend more time with the duke.”
“But she invited Kit here,” Rose realized suddenly. “And to supper in London.”
“True,” Violet conceded. “But she probably just wanted to make sure he got started on Father’s greenhouse.”
“Oh, you’re probably right. Plus she’s taken a liking to Kit’s sister. Perhaps she felt sorry for Ellen and invited her to the town house to cheer her up. Kit would naturally have had to come along.”
“That makes sense,” Lily agreed.
Rose breathed a sigh of relief. If it turned out Mum was trying to marry her off to Kit, she’d have to stop seeing him. Once her mother got something like that into her head, the pressure would be unbearable.
Not that Rose had decided she did want to keep seeing Kit.
She just wasn’t ready to decide that she didn’t.
FORTY-TWO
AT FORD’S suggestion, the young men took their brandy in Lady Trentingham’s perfumery. Ever the scientist, Ford tinkered with the distillery he’d made for his mother-in-law, searching for a reported leak. Rand reclined in a green velvet chair, sipping his drink.
Kit paced.
The contraption Ford was working on, and the large utilitarian table on which it sat, looked out of place in the otherwise elegant room. Kit ran a hand down the silk and linen brocatelle wall-coverings. “How is married life?” he asked Rand.
“Splendid,” Rand said, looking nauseatingly relaxed.
Feeling decidedly unrelaxed, Kit gazed up at the black and gold cornice around the plastered ceiling. A fine display of workmanship. Something like it would look magnificent in the apartments he was building for the Duchess of Cleveland at Hampton Court, not to mention in his own house in Windsor.
“You should try it,” Rand added.
“Marriage?” Kit looked down to his old friend. “If I have my way, I believe I will.”
“What?” Rand half bolted out of the chair.
“Sit,” Kit said.
Frowning, Ford removed a lid and disconnected a copper tube. “Whom are you hoping to wed?”
Kit took a deep breath. ”Your sister-in-law. Rose.”
Ford looked up, astonished. “Rose?”
“Rose?” Rand echoed. He gulped a swallow of brandy. “I knew you thought her pretty, but—”
“She’s very pretty.” Kit’s tone brooked no argument. “But more than that, she’s extraordinary. She saved my sister’s life. And she wants to travel, as I do—and can even speak the language when we get there.”
Ford looked at him through a large glass bulb that was part of the device. “When you get where?”
Shrugging, Kit stooped to examine the marble fireplace. “Rome, Florence, France…wherever.”
“If all you want is a translator, you can hire a linguist.” Rand set his goblet on a small inlaid table. “I’ve students who would jump at a chance to spend a summer—”
“I’d rather spend it with Rose. I think…I think I might love her.” Kit straightened, still facing the fireplace. “She’s fun and beautiful and bright, and something about her just…” He trailed off, realizing how he must sound to these well-bred, aristocratic men.
Like a delusional, babbling idiot.
He turned to catch the two brothers-in-law exchanging a look. Ford raised a single brow. “He said the L word.”
Rand nodded. “So I heard.”
Kit reddened. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. I’m a nobody, and she’s—”
“Whoa,” Rand said indignantly. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Me neither.” Ford held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.
“Well, it’s what Rose thinks,” Kit said flatly. “But that could all change. If I’m awarded the Deputy Surveyor post and a knighthood—”
“You’re sure she cares about all that?” Ford crossed his arms. “I mean, I know she’s Rose, but she’s still an Ashcroft. They’re a rather open-minded lot.”
“Unconventional,” Rand corrected.
Ford smiled. “That too.”
“I’m sure she cares about that.” Kit ran his fingers across a rack of little glass vials, all neatly labeled. LAVENDER, LILAC, MUSK. He plucked out the one that said ROSE. “Lady Trentingham told me herself.”
“Oh,” Ford said, the single syllable full of meaning. “You’re working with the mother, then?”
Kit whipped around, his fingers clenching the vial. “What do you mean?” he asked nervously. Would Ford reveal Kit’s
