Rose (Flower Trilogy) by Lauren Royal

. . .” One pale, arched brow rose, and his tone implied that the heat resulted from more than just exertion.
    Well, she shouldn’t refuse him, should she? After all,
    ’twas naught but a walk outside. She glanced toward her mother, but Chrystabel was engaged in conversation across the room. The men at Court had wicked reputations, but surely if Mum were concerned, she’d be watching more closely.
    In any case, it hardly mattered, since while Rose was dithering, the duke had managed to steer her from the room.
    She’d never liked the dark, so she was relieved to see a few torches. ’Twas a mild evening, but no one else seemed to be outdoors enjoying the favorable weather. “Should we be out here?” she asked nervously.

    “ ’Tis open to the public. Charles expanded this terrace recently, and he’s invited the townspeople to enjoy the views. ’Tis crowded as hell in the daytime.”
    She’d bet it was—and for some reason, she found herself wishing all those people were here now. But when he took her hand and started walking, her fleeting unease was replaced by a sense of wonder. Her first time at Court—how amazing that she should find such a perfect man so quickly!
    She should have come to Court years before.
    “How long have you been here at Windsor?” he asked.
    “We arrived only today.”
    “I guessed as much—or I would surely have spotted you before now.”
    They fell quiet as Gabriel guided her toward the edge of the terrace and stopped by the rail. This castle, like most, was built on high land, and the terrace afforded magnificent views. Beneath the castle wall, parkland gave way to a few twinkling lights and the moon reflecting off the Thames in the distance. Stars winked in the heavens above.
    “ ’Tis a lovely night,” Rose said to fill the silence.
    “Yes, it is.” He smiled down at her, his face lit by the moon. “Made more so with such lovely company.”
    Rose liked what she was hearing. Surely there was no reason to feel uneasy.
    No reason at all.

Chapter Six
    Kit had six men erecting scaffolding, two chipping off the ruined plaster, and another two hauling away the debris. At the same time, he had a team on the way to London to fetch the quality materials that had been figured into his original specifications. Hopefully, they would return on the morrow, or at worst, the day after that.
    Construction work generally halted at dusk. There were no chandeliers in the room as yet, so the men worked by the light of torches and candelabra. If he could convince the rest of his crew to remain on the job twenty-four hours a day, he would. But they, of course, were snug in their beds while he fretted. Artists, especially, were temperamental creatures.
    “Careful!” he warned, one eye on the crew while he re-worked the schedule again in his head, trying to plan contingencies in case the new materials arrived late. “We’re strapped for time, but I won’t have injuries. Or a fire.”
    “Pardon me!” a musical voice exclaimed. He turned to see the swish of peach-colored skirts as Lady Trentingham swiveled away, narrowly missing being whacked in the head by three men rushing out with a beam. “I’ve apparently stumbled into the wrong room.”
    Emerging from the shadows, Kit strode toward her, his footfalls muffled by the protective tarpaulins on the new oak flooring. “ ’Tis perfectly all right, Lady Trentingham.”
    Taking her arm, he drew her over to a safe corner.

    “Mr. Martyn!” she said warmly. “I was searching for my daughter—”
    “Lady Rose? I thought I glimpsed her earlier. What a surprise to find you both here.”
    She turned slowly, inspecting the chamber. “I’ve brought her to Court to find a husband.”
    He should have guessed. A woman as beautiful and bright as Rose would be snapped up here within days—if she wasn’t debauched first. Absurdly, disappointment tightened his chest as he watched Lady Trentingham scan the room and saw her pretty brown eyes—so