He grabbed an exquisite carved panel—that, at least, could be salvaged—and exited the building without looking back.
He’d long ago learned there was no point in that.
FIFTY-SIX
“OH, JUDITH,” Lily breathed, staring at the gown the maid had just laid on her friend’s bed. Palest blue, Judith’s wedding dress had a wide neckline and golden ribbons crisscrossing the stomacher. The underskirt was cloth-of-gold. “It’s so beautiful.”
A happy sigh escaped Judith’s freshly painted lips. “I always dreamed of wearing blue for my wedding.”
“Me, too,” Violet said.
Lily grinned. “Me three.”
Rose’s sisters had both worn blue, and they were both happily married. Rose brushed her fingers over the gown’s shimmering fabric, ordering herself not to be jealous. After all, she’d received so many proposals she’d lost count, and she’d probably have more if she hadn’t rebuffed so many men.
It had been her choice to refuse them.
Besides, she would never wear a gown like this. It might be lovely, but it was entirely too pale and insipid. When Rose finally chose to marry, she intended to do so in red.
Judith wandered across her feminine mauve room to her dressing table. “Shall I wear patches?” she wondered.
Rose turned to her pretty, plump friend. “Just one. A heart. But we must powder your face first.” She handed Judith’s patch box to Lily so she could find a suitable shape, then dipped a fluffy brush into a packet of Princess’s Powder. “Are you nervous?”
“Of course not,” Judith said, but her smile was trembly. She held out a wine cup for Violet to refill. “Why should I be nervous? Grenville is a good man.”
Rose dusted Judith’s cheeks. “Of course he’s good. He’s titled and has money.” And if he wasn’t exactly handsome, she added to herself, at least he wasn’t pockmarked or ugly. A woman could look at him without wincing.
If she’d gained nothing else from court, she’d learned it wasn’t easy to find perfection. Perhaps compromise wasn’t such a bad thing.
“No, I mean Edmund is ever so good.” Judith peered at herself in the mirror. “He adores children, though his first wife couldn’t give him any. He makes certain all the orphans on his estate find families and homes. No one, young or old, is ever allowed to go hungry, and—”
“That’s just being decent,” Rose interrupted.
Violet set down the wine bottle with a little clunk. “But decency is important. And rare.”
Still riffling through the patch box with a fingertip, Lily nodded. “I’d choose decency over money and a title any day of the week. You have to live with the man you wed.”
“Husbands and wives don’t have to live with each other.” Rose fluffed more powder on her friend’s face. “At court, it seems hardly any of them do.”
Violet stared at her, her brown eyes looking huge through her spectacles. “But those are marriages made for alliance, not love. That’s not what you want, is it?”
“Of course not,” she said, still fluffing.
“Stop!” Judith laughed, brushing at her dressing gown. White powder flew everywhere. Particles coated the surface of her dark wood dressing table and floated in a sunbeam that came through the window. “Edmund won’t be able to find me under all this powder.”
“Sorry.” Rose dusted more on her own cheeks, though her scratch was all but healed. “Is Grenville nervous?”
“He doesn’t seem to be. But then, he’s been married before. He’s not worrying about tonight.”
Violet touched her hand. “Are you worried, Judith?”
“A little.” Looking away, Judith grabbed her goblet and took another swallow of wine. A big one.
“I think you’re a lot worried,” Lily said, prying the goblet from Judith’s fingers. She’d downed half a bottle already, and there were still hours left before her wedding. “You don’t want to be slurring your vows.”
“The marriage bed is nothing to fear,” Violet told her.
“Are you sure?” Judith asked.
“Of course she’s sure.” Rose nervously tweaked the bouquet of flowers she’d made for Judith to carry. “All brides fret about it, but they all survive, don’t they?”
“Are you fretting?” Violet asked her.
“Why should I fret? I’m not getting married.”
“But if you were?” Lily pressed.
Rose thought of I Sonetti and all those awkward positions. “No, I’m not fretting,” she said, telling herself it wasn’t quite a lie.
She wasn’t fretting yet.
“Mama told me it would hurt,” Judith whispered.
Having read Aristotle’s Master-piece, Rose nodded knowingly. “But only for a moment.”
That part she didn’t find worrisome. The Master-piece described it as “a little pain,” and she believed that was true.
But she wished she’d never seen that blasted Italian book.
FIFTY-SEVEN
“BASED ON THE upper floor’s loads,” Kit said, “I was concerned that with any additional loading the building would eventually collapse. As it stood, it was near the maximum tolerance of the span. I cannot believe I miscalculated something so basic.”
“Neither can I,” Wren said pointedly, pacing his office in Windsor Castle. Then his eyes narrowed as he stopped and turned to Kit. “Are you saying someone else miscalculated? Purposefully lengthened the span? Altered your plans?”
“I won’t say that.” Kit met the older man’s gaze. “The project is my responsibility. The error is mine, and I’ll absorb the costs of rebuilding.”
When he first started out, a problem of this magnitude might have landed him in debtor’s prison. Thankfully, he could easily afford it now.
Wren nodded as he walked him to the door. “This won’t go past this room. I expect Charles will be pleased with the final results, even though you’ll miss the deadline. You’ll doubtless see more commissions, and your reputation won’t suffer.”
That was some consolation. Thanks to Wren’s confidentiality, Kit’s career wasn’t endangered.
Just his dreams. His knighthood. His chances of winning the woman he loved.
“Thank you,” he told Wren as he opened the door. “Though the project won’t come in on time, it will be done right.”
“From you, I expect no less.” Wren watched him
