She’d silently sent up a cheer.
Things were looking up. “Thank you,” she said, turning to leave.
“Lady Trentingham?”
She swiveled back. “Yes, Harriet?”
“I shall report to your lodging forthwith.”
“Take your time, dear. I expect Rose will be busy for a spell. And you and Walter have much to discuss.”
The maid exchanged a puzzled look with the guard. “Discuss?”
“Will he leave the king’s employ and take a post at Trentingham, or will you find a position here? A major decision, don’t you think?”
Chrystabel imagined both their mouths falling open as she made her way back into the palace. But she was certain their relationship would come to that, soon if not this night.
Her matchmaking instincts were all but infallible.
FIFTY
BY THE TIME Kit made the last measurement, Rose had long since slipped off her high heels. Carrying them, she followed him out of the building to find the sun was peeking over the horizon, gilding the privy garden in golden morning light.
“Parterre a l’anglais,” she murmured, mentally comparing the area to her father’s exquisitely planted gardens.
Kit shut the door behind them. “Parterre a what?”
“Literally it means ‘English floor,’ but you must imagine it said in a derisive French tone.” She grinned at his quick smile, adding, “It refers to the English preference for smooth turf like this, rather than their own intricate figured parterres.”
Hampton Court’s privy garden was divided into simple, plain grass quarters, each with a single statue: Venus and Cleopatra in brass, and Adonis and Apollo in marble. In the center of it all sat Arethusa above a great black marble fountain with only a trickle of water.
“It is rather pathetic,” Kit admitted. “I’ve heard the fountains in Italy gush water.”
Rose shifted both her shoes to one hand. “I can see why King Charles is putting his discarded mistress out here—I imagine he rarely visits this garden himself.”
“I’d wager he does,” he disagreed. “He needs places all his own, whether beautiful or not. The poor man cannot even dine or dress without people watching.”
Rose had never thought of the king as poor, but she supposed Kit had a point. Court etiquette could be tedious, she thought through a yawn.
“It’s morning,” she suddenly realized. “We’ve been up all night.”
“I’m used to it,” Kit muttered.
“I’m not. Do you know, I’ve only stayed up all night once before, and I was with you then, too—the night we deciphered Rand’s brother’s diary. You’re a bad influence,” she accused with a weary smile.
“You can sleep today. Heaven knows nothing happens at Hampton Court while the sun shines. For the court, anyway. My crew will be arriving any minute, though; we’d best leave before we’re discovered.”
He put a hand to her back, guiding her toward the gate, and Rose realized it was the first time he’d touched her since they’d laughed in Cloister Green Court. They’d passed the long hours of the night working and talking. He hadn’t tried to kiss her even once.
Perhaps he’d decided to abandon his pursuit of her. Which was a good thing, she told herself firmly. She was grateful to retain his friendship, and it was easier this way, because it would be hard to keep saying no.
But she was unaccountably forlorn at the thought of never kissing him again.
Walter was no longer at the gate; an older guard nodded as they passed though. No sooner had they rounded the corner of the building than they heard men’s voices and the stomp of boots.
“The workmen.” Kit grabbed her hand. “We cannot let them see us.” With that, he began running along the perimeter of the palace, pulling her along with him.
She dropped one of her shoes. “Wait!”
“We’ll return for it!” he said without slowing.
By the time they rounded another corner and skidded to a stop, they were both huffing and puffing. When he released her hand, she felt a loss. “Safe,” he declared with a breathless laugh. “I don’t think they saw us.”
Her chest was heaving, and she noticed him noticing. “Whyever does it matter?”
Chagrined, he returned his gaze to her face. “If one of them is sabotaging this project, I don’t want him to know I’m investigating. They’ll all be hard at work in a few minutes. Then we can sneak into the palace.”
“Like spies,” she said with a smile, wishing he was still touching her.
“Like spies.” He grinned, glancing around the extensive public gardens. “In the meantime, I’ve been hankering to try the maze.”
“Not the maze,” she said with a groan. “I despise mazes. I always get lost.”
“If you know the left-hand rule, it’s impossible to get lost.”
“How is that?”
“I’ll show you. We won’t get lost.” Apparently noting her skeptical expression, he took her hand again and began walking. “Besides, I reckon I can make it fun to get lost.”
Something had changed in the quality of his voice, something that made bubbles start pinging in Rose’s stomach. The grass felt cool and springy beneath her stockinged feet. “I missed the gaming again,” she realized.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding at all sincere.
“It’s a favorite recreation of the duke’s. I had hoped he would teach me so I could win enough for a new gown.”
“Is that so?“ Kit’s eyes were an unreadable, murky green. “A gown is a mere pittance at the court gaming tables. Word has it the Duchess Mazarin lost ten thousand last week on a single bet.”
“Ten thousand pounds?”
He nodded. “Pounds.”
“That’s my whole inheritance!” Perhaps it was just as well that she’d missed the gaming. “I’ve got better things to do with my money.”
“You have big plans for it, then?”
“Unlike my dowry, it’s mine. It won’t belong to my husband.”
He slanted her a glance. “I’m not in need of it. I cannot speak for the duke.”
The thought startled her. The truth was, she
