He couldn’t say more. He stared straight ahead.
“Nothing that would get her with child,” she said, “and that’s an absolute.”
“Of course,” he choked out. Lord Almighty. Could she be telling him to do what he thought she was?
When her laughter pierced the night again, he turned his head to find her looking right at him. “You’ve gone white,” she said. “I can tell even by this dismal torchlight. Surely that’s not such a daunting task? Or an unpleasant one?”
Any words he might manage to come up with remained stubbornly stuck in his throat. She was Rose’s mother. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that seducing her daughter would certainly be pleasant, indeed.
When she laid a hand on his arm, the gesture eased some of the shock. “As my husband is fond of reminding me,” she said softly, “I wasn’t a nun before we wed. I don’t expect my daughter to remain one, either. But I won’t have her risking a child out of wedlock, and the decision of whom she will marry will be hers in the end.”
He would never—never—have considered telling a man to seduce his sister, to any extent whatsoever. Not even a fine nobleman he hoped she would marry. In fact, short of marriage, he would tell any man to keep his hands the hell to himself.
But Rose’s mother must know her very well.
“She’ll be in good hands,” he finally managed to say.
She squeezed his arm before releasing it. “I’m counting on that.”
TWENTY-ONE
EVEN THE KING had tried to steal a kiss!
As Charles and Rose had ended a minuet, he’d murmured his intentions in a low, velvet-edged voice and leaned close, apparently unconcerned that anyone might be watching. Right then, Gabriel had walked up to claim she’d promised him the next dance, which had been lucky for Rose, because she had no idea how to gracefully turn down the king.
And she had no intention of kissing even one more man tonight.
A good loser, Charles had gone away happily enough, smiling when he spotted Nell Gwyn sashay into the chamber.
Now, as Rose and Gabriel performed the complicated steps of the galliard, she was aware of all the gazes on the two of them. Jealous gazes. The women were jealous because she’d captivated the most coveted bachelor at court. The men were jealous because he’d made his intentions crystal clear—and one didn’t elbow aside a duke.
All the attention was positively heady, and part of Rose was thrilled beyond belief. A duke, and such a handsome one at that!
The only catch was his kisses.
She’d allowed four more, trying vainly to coax him to change his style. When that hadn’t worked, she’d tried—really tried—to learn to enjoy his technique. Because, truth be told, she couldn’t imagine why she didn’t. It seemed to her that his kiss wasn’t actually all that different from Kit’s.
Some of the men had been positively boorish in their approach, but Gabriel didn’t fit in that category. His kisses weren’t too terribly slobbery, his breath was fresh, and he had the manner of a gentleman, if an impassioned one. So she couldn’t put her finger on what Kit had done specifically that made his kiss magic while Gabriel’s had no effect on her at all.
Or at least not the desired effect.
Perhaps she would have to allow Kit another kiss, in order to discern the difference. Once she figured that out, it should be a simple matter to explain to the duke what she wanted. Practice, after all, should make perfect.
If only the practice weren’t so tedious.
“Thank you, your grace,” she said kindly when the dance came to an end. She loved calling him your grace, not to mention imagining being called your grace herself. She noticed the musicians set down their instruments. “Is the dancing over so early?” she asked with a frown.
“Only temporarily.” Gabriel gestured to another corner of the room. “I believe Nell is about to grace us with an entertainment.”
Chairs had been arranged to leave the corner open as a stage of sorts. Rose and the duke drifted closer as the performance began, a clever comedy mocking court life and filled with bits of song and dance. It seemed Nell had brought friends, for other actors and actresses took the makeshift stage along with her. When the brief play ended, the chamber burst into applause, the king’s the loudest of all.
“Extraordinary!” he exclaimed, the remnants of laughter still on his face. “Extraordinary!”
Laughing herself, Nell swept him an exaggerated bow. “Then, sir, to show you don’t speak like a courtier, I hope you’ll make the performers a handsome present.”
Charles made a great show of patting his velvet clothing. “I have no money about me.” He turned to his brother, the Duke of York. “Have you any coin, my dear James?”
His eyes dancing, the duke shrugged. “I believe, sir, not above a guinea or two.”
Laughing harder, Nell turned in a circle, her arms outstretched. “Od’s fish,” she cried, borrowing the king’s favorite oath, “what company have I got into?”
Rose laughed along with everyone else. With her robust sense of humor, Nell was truly delightful.
Gabriel tucked a hand beneath her elbow. “Shall we adjourn to the North Terrace?” he asked politely.
Not again. Her high spirits quickly faded. “I think not. I feel, um, a bit peaked. I should like to find my mother and see if she’s ready to leave.”
“Already? The gaming hasn’t even started.”
And she’d wanted to try that. But not as much as she wanted to escape now. Somewhere—anywhere—where she could find some peace and think about all that had happened this day.
“I believe I saw my mother head in that direction,” she said, indicating the portion of the castle that was under construction—an area she suspected the fastidious duke would have no wish to enter. “I thank you for the dances.”
Without looking back, she hurried away, hoping he wouldn’t follow and heaving a sigh of relief
