She grabbed the pillow, put it over her face and growled into it. Then she clutched the same pillow to her chest and hugged it very tight.
“See the garden of blossoms so fair. Roses in bloom, orchids so rare.”
She whisper-sang the familiar words into the darkness, letting the melody curl around her like a blanket. The silly nursery song was Kate’s earliest childhood memory. The lilting tune always calmed her nerves.
“Lilies tall and sweet,” she continued. “Rounder mums, too. All of them dancing, dancing for you.”
As the last note faded, her eyelids slipped shut and stayed there.
She dreamt of a hot, stormy kiss that lasted all night long.
Chapter Seven
“Oh, Miss Taylor! I was so hoping you’d come in this morning.”
Kate froze in the entryway of the All Things shop.
Sally Bright, the village shopgirl and gossip, looked up from her ledger and cast her a sly smile. “I can’t wait to hear everything.”
Oh, please. Please, don’t let word have gotten around.
Kate herself could scarcely believe last night’s interview with the Gramercys, much less be pressed to explain it. “Hear everything about what?”
“Everything about you and Thorne, of course. Miss Taylor, you must tell me. I’ll forgive your entire line of credit, but I want to hear every detail. I heard you’re betrothed.” The girl hopped for emphasis. “Betrothed!”
Kate closed her eyes. Oh. That. The girl wanted to hear about her and Thorne. She was having a hard time crediting those events, too.
“Did you say betrothed?” In her peripheral vision she saw a lace cap swivel.
Kate adjusted the heavy basket on her arm. Mrs. Highwood, a matron in her middle years, stood at the far corner of the shop, accompanied by the eldest of her three daughters, Diana.
“Who is betrothed?” the older woman demanded.
Mrs. Highwood was a woman of advancing age—but when it came to the subject of matrimony, her hearing was positively canine in its acuity. Between her voracious interest in all things nuptial and Sally’s love of gossip . . .
Well, at least this would be over quickly.
“It’s Miss Taylor and Corporal Thorne,” Sally jumped to inform her. “It happened just yesterday, on their way home from Hastings.”
“How do you even know all this?” Kate asked, marveling.
“Your new music pupil came in the shop. Lady Lark, is it? She popped in first thing this morning for tooth powder and told me everything.”
Mrs. Highwood crossed to the counter. “Miss Taylor? Betrothed to Corporal Thorne? I cannot believe it.”
“Is this true, Kate?” Diana asked. “I must admit, that’s . . . rather a surprise.”
Of course it would be a surprise. She and Diana were friends, and not only had she never said a thing to the eldest Miss Highwood about liking Corporal Thorne—she’d given every indication of despising the man.
Because she did despise him. He was horrid and cold and unfeeling and now . . .
“It’s true,” Kate said, inwardly cringing. “We’re engaged.”
It’s all right, she reminded herself. It’s only temporary.
“But how did this happen?” Diana asked.
“Very suddenly.” Kate swallowed. “I’d gone into Hastings for new music, and I missed the last stagecoach home. I chanced across Corporal Thorne in the street, and he offered me a ride home.”
“And then . . . ?”
“And then we stopped to rest the horse near a turnpike. We . . . discussed the past and the future. By the time I settled in for the night at the Queen’s Ruby, we were engaged.” There, all of that was the truth.
Sally pouted. “That is the worst recounting I’ve ever heard! You owe us more than that. Did he go down on one knee, declare mad love for you? Was there a kiss?”
Kate didn’t know how to answer. Yes, there had been a kiss. And her first kiss should have been an occasion to bubble over with excitement and regale all her friends with breathless details. Instead, she just wanted to conceal her humiliation.
“Look at your face,” Sally said. “Red as sealing wax. It must have been a very good kiss indeed. The man’s no kind of monk. You’ll be a lucky bride, Miss Taylor. I’ve heard such tales . . .” She scribbled in her ledger.
Mrs. Highwood snapped open a fan and worked it vigorously. “Insupportable. My Diana’s poor health has us confined to this seaside hamlet, while all England celebrates the allied victory. Here we stay, doomed to watch her chances of marriage sail by, like so many ships viewed from the shore. And now Miss Taylor is engaged?”
Diana gave Kate an apologetic smile. “Mama, I believe what you mean to say is that we are thrilled for Kate, and we wish her much joy.”
“Much joy,” the older lady muttered. “Yes, Miss Taylor may have much joy, but what of us? I ask you, Diana, where is our joy? Where?” She drew the last word into a wavering lament. “Everyone who is anyone is in Town this summer. Including your sister, who—I remind you—has recently married a viscount.”