“What’s next?” Ellen asked as though it were very normal indeed.
Rose blinked and refocused on the page. “…and then your yard, bit by bit…”
The words made her think of Kit. Kit, who had liked it too much when she’d touched him there. Her gaze strayed to the engraving, the picture of a man kneeling between a woman’s spread thighs.
She forced her eyes back to the text. “‘Alza ben questa gamba’…Raise my leg, and we shall play a new game…good God.”
“Good God?”
She looked up. “It doesn’t say that. I’m just…I’m sorry, but this is difficult. It worked much better for me when I could puzzle over it slowly and write it down.”
“I don’t mind waiting.” Ellen, too, stared at the engraving above the sonnet, her muted words directed to the page.
“Have you…done that?” Rose asked after a moment.
Her friend burst into tears.
“Gemini. I’m so sorry.” Rose turned to her, taking her hands, cursing herself for not thinking before talking—as usual. “What is it?”
“I…” Ellen searched her eyes, her own overflowing. “I just…” She seemed to swallow past a huge lump in her throat. “I just miss Thomas, is all,” she whispered finally.
If this was love, Rose wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with it. Ellen looked more miserable than she’d thought possible. She’d never seen anyone so desperate—not even Lily when she feared Rand would have to marry someone else.
“You’ll see Thomas soon,” she soothed, squeezing Ellen’s hands. “You live in Windsor, after all. Kit cannot keep you away forever. I imagine he just wanted to conduct his business there quickly and then get back to Whitehall where he’s needed.”
“But he’s not needed at Whitehall—not anymore. The crisis has passed, and the project will go smoothly without him.”
“Well, that’s good, then. He’s coming back day after tomorrow. You heard him say that, didn’t you? If he isn’t needed here in London, then surely he’ll take you back to Windsor.”
“I think not.” With a great effort, Ellen choked back the last of her tears. “He told me today that Thomas will never see a penny of my dowry.”
Rose didn’t think Kit would follow through with that threat, but it wasn’t her place to tell Ellen. “Is that what this is about?”
“No. Well, maybe.” She bowed her head, looking up at Rose through damp lashes. “What if Thomas doesn’t want me without the money? We’ve spent so much time dreaming of the day when—”
“Don’t be a goose.” Rose reached to lift Ellen’s chin. “I know the look of love in a man’s eyes, and I can assure you Thomas is besotted. He doesn’t want you for your money, Ellen—you need to put that right out of your head.”
Ellen looked like she wanted to believe her. “Do you think?”
“I know.” Rose felt her age and then some. Ellen was so young. So vulnerable. Rose remembered Kit’s concerns and her promise to watch over his sister. “Would you like to sleep in here instead of the other room? We can talk all night like my sisters and I used to when one of us was upset.”
Tears leaked again as Ellen nodded. “You’re so kind, Rose.”
Nobody had ever described Rose as kind. Her own eyes felt watery as she rang for her maid to prepare them both for bed.
THIRTY-FIVE
“GOOD MORNING, Ellen.” Rose stretched beneath the quilt, then slowly rolled over. “Ellen?”
Ellen wasn’t there.
Rose sat up and squinted at the clock on her mantel. Seeing it was only seven in the morning, she groaned. Breakfast wouldn’t be served until nine.
Yawning, she absently lifted one of the bottles off her bedside table. The cork came free with a soft pop, and she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes.
Frankincense and myrrh. Kit. Almost. Something was missing. That woodsy something. She’d have to locate and add that elusive ingredient before she gave the bottle to the duke.
Thinking she’d better find Ellen, Rose yawned again and slid from the bed. She tied a red wrapper over her white night rail, slipped her feet into a pair of quilted satin mules, and padded out of her chamber, taking the bottle with her.
Ellen wasn’t in the room she’d been assigned, either. Through the open door of her mother’s sitting room, Rose glimpsed two maids busy about their day’s work, one opening the shutters while the other cleaned the fire grate.
“Have either of you seen Ellen Martyn?” she asked.
“Nay, my lady,” they chorused in unison. “Perhaps she’s still abed?” one of them guessed.
“No, she’s not.”
For one panicked moment, Rose wondered if Ellen had escaped and gone to Thomas after all, but then she shook herself and headed for the staircase. Just because the upstairs maids hadn’t seen her didn’t mean that Ellen wasn’t here. She could easily be in the dining room having an early breakfast. Or perhaps in the large basement kitchen. Their cook would be long awake, baking the day’s bread, and she wasn’t the type to let anyone in the house go hungry.
There was no need to fret. In fact, Rose thought, pausing in front of the perfumery and looking at the bottle in her hand, maybe she could take the time to perfect this scent. Half guilty knowing her mother would be a much more solicitous hostess, she pushed down on the door’s latch and shoved it open.
The bottle crashed to the planked wood floor. “Ellen!”
Tears welling in her eyes, Ellen held a dropper in one hand and a vial in the other. Looking away from Rose, she tilted her head back and deliberately emptied the last glistening drop into her mouth.
“Ellen!” Skidding on glass and perfume, Rose ran to her, not wanting to believe what she’d just seen. “Whatever are you doing?” She grabbed the vial from her hand. “Pennyroyal?” Her heart pounded. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Essential
