“I mean that Lady Trentingham is helping you win her daughter’s affections.” Ford grinned. “Don’t look so guilty. The countess helped me, too, you know.”
Rand made a choking sound that suggested he’d nearly spat out his drink. When he was finished coughing, he looked up at Ford through the ends of his longish hair. “She helped you?”
“Of course. She gave me advice when I was having trouble persuading Violet to marry me.” Ford cocked his head. “Did she not do the same for you?”
“No!” As Rand wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, his brow furrowed. “Except…well, she did leave Lily and me alone together an awful lot. And she kept Rose away—”
He suddenly stopped, exchanging another look with Ford.
Sensing an odd tension in the room, Kit glanced between the two of them. “What?” When neither answered, he narrowed his eyes. “What were you saying about Rose?”
Since his friend remained guiltily silent, it was Ford who finally explained. “Rose sort of…used to fancy Rand.”
Kit swallowed hard. “Really?”
“Only a little,” Rand rushed to add. “Nothing happened between us.”
“Nothing?” There seemed to be an odd rushing sound filling Kit’s ears. “Then how do you know she had feelings for you?”
“Oh.” Rand looked flustered. “She may have, um—just once—cornered me in the summerhouse and asked for a kiss.”
The rushing grew louder. Rose had a habit of asking Kit for kisses, too. He’d believed there was something special between them, but what if she’d had the same feelings for Rand—Kit’s best friend?
“When?” he heard himself asking.
“Over the summer.” When Rand chanced a look at Kit’s face, what he saw there seemed to alarm him. “But honestly it seems a lifetime ago. I’m married to Lily now, and Rose and I are just like brother and sister.”
“He’s telling the truth, man,” Ford put in, bent over the distillery again. “There was nothing between them—or nothing of consequence, anyway.” He replaced a copper tube with a little snap. “Rand had already been pining for Lily for years—”
“I wouldn’t say pining,” Rand grumbled.
Ford rolled his eyes. “I would. And for Rose’s part, she was simply in a husband-hunting mood when Rand happened to be the first eligible gentleman to come along.”
Kit grunted, remembering all the eligible gentlemen she’d been kissing at court. “That does sound like Rose,” he had to admit.
“But listen, Martyn.” Ford glanced up from his task. “Her mother obviously thinks you two are right for each other, or else she wouldn’t be helping you. And with her assistance, I’d say the odds are in your favor. After all”—he gestured to himself and Rand—“she’s two for two so far.”
“Apparently so,” Rand said ruefully, swirling his brandy.
“I hope you’re right, Lakefield.” Though Kit’s tone was grim, the encouragement had given him a little surge of confidence. Retrieving his own brandy from a marble-topped table, he took a healthy gulp. “The girl’s got half the bachelors at court panting after her, including a blasted duke. My only ray of hope is that his grace is reportedly a lousy kisser.”
As the others laughed, feminine laughter drifted from upstairs.
Rand smiled. “Our ladies seem to be enjoying themselves.”
“Where is everyone else?” Kit wondered suddenly.
“Jewel and Rowan are probably off somewhere planning a fiendish prank.” Rand downed the rest of his drink.
“No doubt.” Ford straightened, dusting off his hands. “The younger children were put to bed.”
“And Lord and Lady Trentingham?”
“In bed as well.”
Excellent. Perhaps Kit could manage to sneak off and get Rose on her own. And hopefully make a little more progress toward convincing her they were meant to be.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Kit looked around to see Rand grinning at him. “Trust me, Kit, you’ll never tear her away from her sisters.”
“Thick as thieves, those three.” Lifting his empty cup, Ford moved toward the brandy jug. “Especially during their sleeping parties.”
“Very well.” Kit shrugged, masking his disappointment. “Another drink, gentlemen?”
FORTY-THREE
CHRYSTABEL slid beneath the counterpane in her bedchamber, happily resting her head on her husband’s shoulder.
Joseph kissed her forehead. “Two weeks.”
“Pardon?”
“You were gone nearly two weeks. It’s the longest you’ve ever been gone from me.”
Chrystabel laughed softly. “You leave me for several weeks every year when you go to Tremayne.”
She felt him shrug. ”That seems different somehow.”
“Because you’re the one leaving and busy.” She knew he had to go, that Tremayne, a castle near the Welsh border, was as much his responsibility as Trentingham or his duty to Parliament. But that didn’t mean she liked it. “Now that the girls are grown, perhaps I’ll come along. And bring Rowan,” she said, warming to the idea. “After all, he’s now Lord Tremayne. He should learn the ins and outs of running the estate.”
“An excellent notion, Chrysanthemum.”
Her husband’s breathing was slowing, his head beginning to loll. She had always envied the way he could go straight to sleep the moment he climbed into bed. Meanwhile, she’d lay awake for long minutes—sometimes hours—her mind churning with thoughts of the day past and plans for the day to come. She’d never figured out what made them so different.
“I’ll have to leave again, though,” she said mournfully. “Soon.”
His eyes opened halfway. “Hmm?”
“Rose is so close to making the right decision. Another few days at court ought to convince her there’s no one there meant to share her life.”
“Mmm.” His arms snaked around her, pinning her securely against his warmth.
“I’m quite disappointed, though, that she hasn’t found a moment here to go off with Kit. Lily and Violet are monopolizing her—perhaps I was shortsighted to invite them.” She gave an expressive sigh, wiggling herself into a more comfortable position within the circle Joseph’s arms. “I believe I shall have to wait until they all turn in for the night and then devise a way to get Rose and Kit out of their beds for a short while. I imagine he’ll be leaving in the morning for Hampton Court. Perhaps we’ll wait
