Rose’s lips thinned. “She schemed behind all of our backs, as you well know,” she pointed out. “I’d rather scheme than have my sister-in-law refuse to attend our wedding. If that happens, Kit may never forgive her.”
“Has it occurred to you,” Violet asked with concern, “that Kit might never forgive you for meddling in his affairs? Isn’t this rather similar to Mum’s antics that so angered you?”
“No!” Rose exclaimed, though she was taken aback for a moment. “That was different. Mum was manipulating my relationship, while I’m simply…” Rose swallowed. “Well, anyway I’ve forgiven her, haven’t I?” That was mostly true. The two of them had a fragile truce, and Rose was attending family meals again. “If Kit is even upset by this, he will forgive me, too.”
“You don’t know that for sure—”
“I do.” This discussion was going nowhere, and Rose was finished with it. “What is it with all this traffic?” she asked, glaring out the window. “At this rate, my wedding day will arrive before we even get out of London.”
“Excellent attempt at changing the subject—” Violet started.
“No,” Lily interrupted. “Something is going on.”
The carriage hadn’t budged in the last ten minutes. Since they weren’t going anywhere anyway, they all climbed out.
“William and Mary,” Rose breathed. “The royal wedding! I’d completely forgotten that today is the fourth of November.”
William of Orange and King Charles’s niece, Mary, rode in an open carriage down the Strand on their way to St. James’s Palace. Caught in the crush, Rose and her sisters were swept into the swarm of citizens lining the streets, waving and cheering as William and Mary approached.
“Everyone seems so happy to see them wed,” Lily remarked, holding onto her cat for dear life.
“She’s a Protestant,” Rose said. “Charles is no fool. He has no legitimate heirs, and he knows the people don’t want to see his Catholic brother James on the throne. He’s wise to marry James’s daughter to a Protestant prince like William of Orange.”
“When did you become so wise?” Violet asked.
Rose lifted her chin. “Just because I don’t bury my nose in books about the past doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of the present. This marriage made for much court gossip. Besides”—she shrugged and cracked a droll smile—“I vow and swear, there was little to do at court in the daytime besides read newsheets.”
The happy roar swelled as the bride and groom drew closer. But Mary didn’t look happy at all. In fact, as she rode by in the royal carriage, wearing a magnificent blue and gold gown and waving to the people, she looked ready to burst into tears.
“How old is she?” Lily asked.
“Fifteen. And William is twenty-seven.” Twenty-seven and short with stooped shoulders, bad teeth, and a large, beaked nose. Rose wouldn’t want to marry him, either. Her heart went out to the poor princess.
How lucky Rose was to be marrying a man she truly loved. She could hardly wait for her own wedding just five days away. And she knew Kit felt the same.
Of course, that was assuming he wouldn’t be angry she’d forced matters with Ellen. Violet’s question kept rattling in her brain.
Has it occurred to you that Kit might never forgive you for meddling in his affairs?
But with the wedding so close, she couldn’t allow this brother–sister standoff to continue. Not when there was a way to fix it. Standing by meekly was simply not in her nature.
Kit wouldn’t be angry; he’d understand why she’d had to act, and he’d be grateful for the result. She knew him well enough to know that.
Didn’t she?
SEVENTY
WITH ALL THE excitement and delay caused by the royal wedding, night was falling by the time Rose and her sisters reached Windsor and the carriage jerked to a stop in front of the pawnshop.
Rose roused herself from a doze and climbed down, then turned back when nobody seemed to be following her. Shivering in the cold night air, she stuck her head through the open doorway of the vehicle. “Aren’t you two going to come with me?”
Her sisters looked at each other. “I think not,” Lily said for them both.
“We don’t choose to be part of this insanity,” Violet elaborated.
“Oh, do hush up,” Rose said. Obviously they didn’t appreciate her roping them into her plot, but she couldn’t have simply gallivanted about England alone. This was the sort of thing sisters were for, wasn’t it?
And she’d done some thinking on the way here to Windsor.
She clutched her cloak tighter around herself. “Do you know,” she told Violet, “I seem to remember you meddling in Ford’s affairs. For heaven’s sake, you patented and sold his invention without his knowledge; you secretly bought that book, thereby giving him your money—giving him your inheritance, Violet, hmm?—without him knowing—”
“It’s not comparable,” Lily cut in. “She gave the money to Ford, the man she was planning to marry. You’re giving yours to Ellen.”
Rose turned on her. “And you gave up control of your own money, too, to Rand’s father. Quite willingly, if I remember right.”
“That’s not comparable, either. It was the only way I could marry Rand.”
“I see. Speaking of Rand…wasn’t Rand the one who came to Violet with the plan to secretly save Ford’s estate? It seems to me he’s not averse to a little manipulation for a good cause. Are you telling me Rand would leave you if you meddled in his business?”
“Well, no. I am certain we would work it out. But you’re not married yet. What if Kit is so angry he calls off the wedding? Then you’ll have lost all your money, and—”
“Never mind.” There was no reasoning with either of them. Rose reached back into the carriage and hefted the bag of coins with a little grunt. Fuming, she stomped to the pawnshop’s door
