For the Roses (46 page)

"We can't go with you. We're part of your past."

"You're my family," she cried out.

"Yes, of course we are," Adam hastened to agree. "That won't ever change."

"We aren't making you go," Cole said. "We love you, Mary Rose. We could never throw you out."

"Then why do I feel as though you are? All of you believe I should go to England, don't you?"

"You've got to give yourself time to get used to the notion of having another family," Travis said. She nodded agreement. Oh, yes, she needed time. She straightened up, asked to be excused, and ran up to her bedroom. She spent the next hour sitting on the side of her bed, trying to make sense out of her life.

Her thoughts kept returning to Harrison. She was thankful he wasn't there now because she didn't want to have to face him just yet. She didn't know what she would say to him. He had told her she would hate him. She thought about the warning he had given her, and then became furious all over again.

What in God's name was she going to do?

She finally stood up, put on her robe and her slippers, and went downstairs to the library. Adam was waiting for her. Even though all of their lives had been turned upside down, some things remained predictable.

Like little sisters needing to be comforted.

It was what family was all about.

She didn't feel better the following morning. She felt worse. Because she was hurting so inside, she went to Douglas. He always took care of her aches and pains, cuts and bruises, even the ones he couldn't see. Douglas understood her need to get away for a while. He didn't believe she was being a coward because she didn't want to see Harrison, and so he took her to the Cohens' house in Hammond. Eleanor insisted on going with her friend, and since she was fully recovered from her bout of illness, Douglas agreed to let her tag along.

Eleanor surprised Douglas. She seemed to be genuinely concerned about Mary Rose. The young woman had put her own concerns aside, a first in Douglas's estimation, and really tried to comfort his sister. She held on to her hand and kept promising her that everything was going to turn out all right. When Harrison returned to the ranch, he demanded to know where his bride was. Adam, Cole, and Travis could honestly tell him they didn't know. Douglas gave him a little more information when he realized how upset and concerned Harrison was. He explained that Mary Rose needed time alone to sort out her feelings, insisted she was safe and being looked after, and then suggested Harrison get on with his

plans and leave for England.

He couldn't promise Mary Rose would follow. Harrison had expected just such a reaction from his bride, but he was still shaken by the anguish he'd caused her. He desperately wanted her to understand, and yet knew that right then she didn't understand at all.

She would come to England though. Of that he was certain. He told Douglas to wire him as soon as Mary Rose and Eleanor were on their way. And then he said his farewells, reminded Adam to take good care of MacHugh, and began his long journey back to England.

Walking away from the woman he loved was the most difficult thing he'd ever done, and even though the separation was to be temporary, he was still in agony. He felt as though his heart were being torn out of his chest.

She would come to him. He repeated the belief until it became a chant. And he never, ever doubted. His belief in her was every bit as strong as his love for her. She would do the right thing. She was noble and good and kindhearted.

And she loved him.

No, he never doubted.

Mary Rose was both relieved and heartbroken that Harrison had left. She knew she wasn't being reasonable, but she was too distraught to think straight.

She refused to discuss her father for a full week. Thoughts of the man kept intruding, however, and once she'd gotten past her own self-pity, she began to feel guilty because she was being coldhearted toward him.

It took her another week to come to the conclusion that she would have to go and meet him. It was the only decent thing to do, and when she informed her brothers of her decision, she qualified it with the announcement that she had no intention of staying in England long. She planned to visit him, meet his relatives, and then return to her ranch, where she belonged.

She wouldn't talk about her plans for a future with Harrison, and her brothers wisely decided not to prod her into making any decision about her husband she might later regret. Mary Rose insisted on saying good-bye to Corrie. She made Travis go with her and extracted a promise from him that he would take supplies to Corrie once a week until Mary Rose returned. She would introduce her brother to the woman after she'd visited with her, so that Corrie would know what Travis looked like and wouldn't try to shoot him.

Because it was the middle of the week, Corrie was expecting her. Mary Rose called out her greeting from the center of the clearing, and then slowly walked forward. The rocking chair was on the porch, and Mary Rose was pleased to notice that once she started toward the steps, the shotgun was removed from the open window.

She put the basket of gifts on the windowsill and took her seat. Corrie touched her shoulder, then dropped the book she'd been loaned into Mary Rose's lap.

Mary Rose still wasn't certain if Corrie could read or not, but she didn't want to insult the woman by asking her outright.

The basket disappeared from the window. Mary Rose waited a minute, and then said, "There's another book in the basket, Corrie. If you don't want to read it, just hand it back out the window." Corrie patted her on her shoulder once again. Mary Rose concluded she did know how to read, and wanted to keep the book.

It took her a long while to work up enough courage to tell her friend she was leaving for England.

"Would you like to know how I ended up in Montana Territory?" she began. She didn't expect an answer, of course, and proceeded to tell her friend all about how her brothers had found her in a basket in New York City. She didn't go into a lot of unnecessary details, and when she started to talk about her father and how she had to go to England to meet him, she began to cry. While Corrie gently stroked her shoulders, Mary Rose confided all her fears to the woman.

"Why do I feel guilty because I don't feel anything more than compassion for the man? I don't want to go and meet him, but I know I have to, Corrie. I'm being terribly selfish, but I like my life now. I hate having it disrupted. Besides, I already have a family. I don't want a new one. I know it's wrong for me to feel this way, and deep inside, I'm so scared. What if none of them like me? What if I disappoint my father? I don't know how to be a proper English lady. They say my name is really Victoria. I'm not Victoria though, I'm Mary Rose. And how will I ever be able to go on with Harrison? What kind of marriage can we have without trust in one another? Oh, Corrie, I wish I could stay here. I don't want to leave." Mary Rose continued to weep for several more minutes, and then reached up to wipe the tears away from her face.

Corrie grabbed hold of her hand and held on to it. The comfort the woman was giving her made her weep all the more. She thought about all the terrible pain and anguish Corrie had had to endure and how foolish and inconsequential her own problems were in comparison. Corrie had watched her husband and her son die. And yet she had endured.

"You give me strength, Corrie," she whispered.

It wasn't empty praise, for the longer she thought about the dear woman's suffering, the more her own life was put into perspective. Mary Rose knew she would do what had to be done, and regardless of the outcome, she would also endure.

"I'm very fortunate to have you for a friend, Corrie."

Travis let out a shrill whistle. He was letting Mary Rose know that it was time for them to leave.

"Eleanor and I will go to the Cohens' house in Hammond the day after tomorrow," she told her friend.

"They're going to Boston for a family reunion, and we'll travel with them. Mr. Cohen will make certain we get on the right ship to England, and if all my plans go smoothly, I'll be back home before the first winter snow falls.

"Travis is going to bring you supplies while I'm away. I've told you all about my brother, remember? He won't ever come closer than the middle of the clearing," she hurried to add when her friend squeezed her hand tight. "May I call to him now? He'll stand by the trees, so you can get a good look at him. I don't want you to be startled when he comes here, and he promised me he would always call out to you so you can watch him."

Corrie finally relaxed her grip. Mary Rose shouted to her brother. Travis appeared on the far side of the clearing and waved to his sister. The curtain obstructed his view of Corrie, but he noticed Mary Rose was holding her hand.

"Storm's coming, Mary Rose. We ought to leave now," he called out. "Good day to you, Corrie," he added before he turned around and walked away.

Mary Rose finally said her good-bye. She turned and kissed Corrie's hand, and then stood up.

"I'm going to miss you," she whispered. "God and Travis will take good care of you, Corrie. Have faith in both of them."

Mary Rose clutched the book in her arms and slowly walked away. The rush of the rising wind mingled with the call of an impatient cardinal and all but muffled the sound of a woman softly weeping inside the cabin.

January 2, 1870

Dear Mama Rose,

Today I am ten years old. Do you remember Adam wrote to tell you that they found papers in my basket and all my brothers think that because the words written on the top of the page said a baby girl was born on the second day of January, and since I was the only baby girl in the basket, they think it must be me.

I'm very lucky to have such a nice family. Travis is making me a birthday cake for supper, and all my brothers made presents for me. Adam said next year he would make sure they got something store bought for me too. Won't that be nice?

Why do you think my mama and my papa threw me away? I wonder what I did wrong. Your daughter, Mary Rose

Harrison arrived in London on a Tuesday afternoon but was forced to wait until the following evening to talk to his employer. Lord Elliott was staying at his country estate, a two-hour ride from the city, and wasn't scheduled to return to the city until Wednesday morning.

Harrison dispatched a messenger announcing his return. He asked for a private meeting, for he had a highly personal matter to discuss with him. He deliberately implied it was a legal matter he'd gotten involved in, so that Elliott wouldn't include his personal assistant, George MacPherson.

Murphy, Elliott's butler for as long as Harrison could remember, opened the front door for him. The faithful servant's eyes sparkled with delight at the sight of Harrison.

"It's so good to have you back home with us, mi'lord," Murphy announced.

"It's good to be back," Harrison replied. "How have you and Lord Elliott been getting along?"

"We've missed all the scandals you get into with your criminal cases, mi'lord. We haven't had a good fight since the day you left. Lord Elliott continues to worry me, I'll admit. He's working too hard, and you know how stubborn and unreasonable he can be. He won't slow down, no matter how much I nag him. I fear he'll continue to run until his heart stops beating. You're bound to cheer him up, however. I must say, he's missed you sorely."

"Is he upstairs?"

"Yes, mi'lord, in the library."

"Is he alone?"

"He is, and impatient to see you again. Why don't you run on up?" Harrison started up the stairs, then stopped. "Murphy, he's going to need some brandy."

"Is the news you bring bad, then?" the butler inquired with a frown. Harrison smiled. "Quite the opposite. He'll still need a drink of brandy though. Is there a bottle in the library?"

"Yes, mi'lord, but I shall bring up another one to be on the safe side. The two of you can get sotted together."

Harrison laughed. In all his years living with Elliott, he'd never once seen him even remotely tipsy. He couldn't picture him roaring drunk. Elliott was too well bred to ever consider doing anything that would take away his control or his dignity. Getting drunk would have robbed him of both. He hurried on up the stairs, rounded the corner, and went into the library. Elliott was standing in front of the fireplace. He spotted Harrison and immediately embraced him.

"So you are home at last," he said in greeting. He hugged Harrison, and pounded him on his back with a great deal of affection.

"You're a sight for these old eyes," he whispered. "Sit down now and tell me all about your adventure in America. I want to hear every detail."

Harrison waited until Elliott had taken his seat before he pulled up a chair and sat down. He noticed how tired Elliott looked and was saddened by his observation. The country air hadn't done the elderly man much good, for his complexion was tinged gray, and there were the ever-present dark half-circles under his eyes. Grief had taken its toll on him.

Elliott had never remarried, but the determined ladies in London society still fought for his attention. Not only was he an extremely wealthy man, he was also considered handsome. He had silver-tipped hair, patrician features, and held himself like the statesman he was. Elliott had been born and raised in an affluent family, and his breeding, education and manners were therefore impeccable. Far more important was the fact that Elliott had a good heart. Like his daughter, Harrison thought to himself. She had perhaps inherited her sense of decency from him, and that noble quality had been nurtured by her brothers. Elliott was also strong-willed. A lesser man would have been destroyed by the horror of having his only child taken away from him, but Elliott fought his desolation in private and presented a brave front to the rest of the world. While he had retired from active participation in government, he continued to work behind the scenes to bring about change. He was as much a champion of the less fortunate as Harrison was and certainly just as dedicated to the belief that all men were entitled to equal representation and equal rights. He wholeheartedly supported Harrison when he took on unpopular causes, such as defending the common man.

"America seems to have agreed with you. Is it the new fashion not to wear a jacket, son?" Harrison smiled. "None of my jackets fit. I seem to have grown between my shoulders. I'll have to call in a tailor before I go out in public again."

"You do look bigger to me," Elliott said. "But there's something else that's different about you." Elliott continued to stare at Harrison another minute or two, then shook his head. "I'm very happy to have you back where you belong." He gave the admission in a quiet voice. "Now, give me your promise, Harrison. There will be no more hunts. I'll have your word before we discuss your legal problems."

"No more hunts," Harrison agreed.

Elliott nodded with satisfaction. He leaned back in his wing chair, folded one leg over the other, and said, "Now you may begin. Tell me everything. Whatever this legal problem is, we'll work it out together."

"Actually, sir, there aren't any legal problems. I just wanted to make certain we had a private talk. I didn't want your assistant to overhear what I had to say to you." Elliott raised an eyebrow. "You didn't want George here? Why in heaven's name not? You like MacPherson, don't you? Why, he's been with me for years now, almost as long as you have. Tell me what's bothering you."

"He's going to give you good news, mi'lord."

Murphy made the announcement from the doorway and then came inside with a full bottle of brandy. He placed the liquor on the table and turned to his employer.

"Mi'lord says you'll need a stiff drink when you hear what he has to say," Murphy explained. "Shall I pour for the two of you?"

"If Harrison believes I'll need it, go ahead, Murphy."

Harrison was happy for the interruption. He was suddenly feeling tongue-tied. He didn't think it would be a good idea to simply spring the news on Elliott. The shock might give him heart palpitations, but Harrison couldn't come up with a simple way to ease into the announcement.

Murphy left the library a moment later. Elliott took a sip of his drink and turned to Harrison once again.

"I got married."

Elliott almost dropped his glass. "You what?"

"I got married."

Lord above, why had he started out by telling him that? Harrison was almost as surprised as Elliott appeared to be.

"Good heavens," Elliott whispered. "When did you get married?"

"A couple of weeks ago," Harrison answered. "I didn't mean to start out with my announcement. I have other more important news to tell you. You see, I went to…"

Elliott interrupted him. "Nothing could be more important than hearing you're married, son. I can barely take it in. Am I to assume the young lady you married is from America?"

"Yes, sir, but…"

"What is her name?"

"Mary Rose."

"Mary Rose," Elliott repeated. "Is your bride downstairs? I must confess to being disappointed I wasn't in the church for your wedding. I would have liked to stand by your side when you spoke your vows."

"Actually, sir, we weren't married in a church."

"You weren't? Then who married you?"

"Hanging Judge Burns."

Elliott looked like he was having difficulty following the explanation. Harrison let out a sigh. "I realize it sounds… peculiar."

"A 'hanging judge' married you. Now, why would I think that was peculiar, Harrison?" Harrison smiled. "You'd like Burns. He's a rough-talking man with strong ideas about what's right and what's wrong. His love of the law is to be admired. I argued a case in his court, and he didn't let me get away with much at all. He's as sharp as they come."

"Did you win for your client?"

"Yes, sir."

Elliott nodded approval. "I didn't expect less from you. Was the marriage forced?"

"Yes, it was. I forced her into marrying me. I really tried to fight the attraction, sir. I didn't feel I had the

right to pursue her, but in the end, I couldn't…"

"Well, of course you had the right to pursue her. She's lucky to have you, Harrison. Remember who your father was. Any woman would be proud to marry you. Are you telling me your bride's family didn't think you were worthy enough? What utter nonsense," he ended in a mutter.

"No, sir, that isn't what I was telling you. You see…"

"Where does your bride come from? I can't seem to take this in. I recall hearing you say over and over again that you would never marry, and now it appears I'm about to meet your bride. I thought your broken engagement to Edwina soured you against matrimony. I'm pleased to see it was a false concern. The right woman will change the way a man thinks."

"Sir, Mary Rose isn't with me. She's still in America."

"She didn't come home with you? Why not?"

"There were circumstances preventing her from accompanying me."

"What specific circumstances?"

"Her family."

"And where is her family?"

"She lives with four brothers on a ranch just outside Blue Belle, in Montana Territory." Elliott smiled. The name of the town caught his fancy. "I've read quite a few books on the rough-and-tumble towns dotting the western section of the United States, but I must confess, I've never heard of a town named after a flower."

"Actually, sir, the town was named after a prostitute. Her name's Belle." Elliot started to laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, sir. Belle helped Mary Rose get ready for the wedding."

"She did, did she?" Elliot was trying hard not to laugh again. "Then why was the town named Blue Belle instead of simply Belle?"

"Belle doesn't like what she does for a living."

Elliott couldn't control his amusement. He laughed until tears came into his eyes. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the corners of his eyes while he tried to regain his composure.

"What have you gotten yourself into, son. This isn't like you at all. You've certainly given me quite a lot to digest," he added. "I can't wait to meet your bride."

"You think I've lost my mind, don't you, sir?"

Elliott smiled. "I think you've changed," he admitted. "I knew there was something different about you, but I never would have guessed you'd marry a girl from the country. I also thought that if you did marry, you'd choose someone more… refined."

"Mary Rose is very refined," Harrison said. "She's everything I could ever want."

"I didn't mean to suggest she was lacking, son. If you'll remember, I also married a country girl. My Agatha was from your Highlands. I've always believed growing up on a farm was the primary reason she was so unspoiled. Of course, she had good parents," he added with a nod.

"Sir, I went to Montana in search of your daughter. I didn't fail this time."

"No, of course you didn't. Granted, it was another false lead, but one with a happy ending, because you met and married your Mary Rose. What a pretty name your bride has. You do love her, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, sir, I love her very much. You'll love her too."

"Yes, of course I will."

Harrison leaned forward in his chair. "As I said before, it wasn't a false lead this time. There's one more important thing you need to know."

"Yes?"

"I married your daughter."

Mary Rose and Eleanor arrived in England on the twenty-first day of July. It was hot, humid, and threatening to rain.

Harrison had used up every bit of his patience waiting for his bride to get over her anger and come to him, and he'd only just made up his mind to book passage back to the States when a telegram arrived from a gentleman named John Cohen, giving him the pertinent information about Mary Rose's departure from Boston and her expected arrival date.

Harrison spotted her golden crown the second she stepped off the steam tender from the ship. He shoved his way through the crowd, grabbed hold of his wife, and pulled her into his arms. As soon as he touched her, he felt an immediate sense of acute relief. Mary Rose was finally where she belonged. His greeting wasn't very flowery. "What the hell took you so long?" She couldn't answer him. Harrison didn't even give her time to frown. He leaned down and captured her mouth in a ravenous kiss.

She didn't resist him. She put her arms around his neck, lifted up on her tiptoes, and kissed him back just as passionately.

"For heaven's sake, Mary Rose. People are gawking at us. Do stop that. You're attracting a crowd." Eleanor whispered her protest from behind Mary Rose. She poked her friend and then took a step away. If the two of them didn't stop mauling each other, she would simply pretend she wasn't with them. Honestly, what had happened to her friend's sense of propriety?

Harrison, she decided, was a lost cause. It wouldn't do her any good to try to reason with him. She'd seen the look of blatant love and hunger in his eyes when he reached for Mary Rose. No, there wouldn't be any reasoning with him.

Eleanor suddenly smiled. Harrison had certainly missed his wife. One day, Eleanor was determined to find a man who felt just as much love for her.

Harrison finally ended the kiss. He was pleased to see Mary Rose appeared to be as shaken by the kiss as he was.

"I missed you, sweetheart," he whispered.

"I missed you too," she whispered back. "You and I are going to have a long talk though, as soon as possible. Things are going to be different between us. We're going to have to start over. I'm going to try to get past this, but it's difficult."

He didn't want to talk just yet. "We'll discuss your worries later," he promised a scant second before his mouth covered hers again.

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

Eleanor's muttering finally caught Harrison's attention. He couldn't make himself let go of his wife after he ended the kiss, however, and so he hugged her tight against him while he greeted her disgruntled-looking friend.

"How was your voyage, Eleanor?"

"Just fine, thank you. Mary Rose can't possibly breathe, Harrison, because of the way you've got her face pressed into your jacket. Do let go of her so we can get on our way. It's about to rain, for heaven's sake. We're both quite weary from our trip, and we want to get settled in before night falls. Are we going directly to her father's house?"