For the Roses

Chapter 18

Mary Rose was nervous about meeting her father. She didn't understand her own reaction. She had nothing to fear from the man. He was a stranger to her, and she would be polite and kind and compassionate to him. Lord Elliott had suffered a terrible loss, she reminded herself once again, and, just as her brothers had suggested, it was her duty to try to comfort him.

Harrison had awakened her with the news that Elliott wanted them to move into his country home with him for an undetermined length of time.

She'd started in worrying then. She thought perhaps some of her fear was due to the fact that she knew absolutely nothing of consequence about him. Harrison had told her he was rich and he was intelligent. Neither defined in her mind what the man was really like, however. Wealth meant little to her, and while hearing that her father was intelligent pleased her, it was still all too vague for her liking. She didn't know anything about his values or his attitudes.

She plied Harrison with questions on their way to Elliott's estate.

"You explained that those who could afford to left the city during the summer months, but you didn't explain why," she began. "It's too hot in the city. Everything sort of shuts down until September."

She folded her hands in her lap. "I don't understand why we couldn't wait for Eleanor. Didn't you want her to accompany us today?"

"Sweetheart, she wouldn't get out of bed, remember? She'll follow us tomorrow, with Edward and the rest of the staff."

"How long does Lord Elliott expect us to stay with him?"

"For as long as you wish to stay."

He stretched out his long legs in front of him and tried to act relaxed. He knew his wife was nervous. She was wringing her hands together now, but he doubted she realized what she was doing.

She'd had difficulty deciding on a dress to wear too, and such behavior wasn't like her at all. She wasn't one to worry about her appearance, but she'd been concerned this morning, and he thought he understood why.

She didn't want to disappoint her father. "He's going to love you, sweetheart."

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Will I like him?" she asked.

Harrison seemed surprised by her question. He suddenly leaned forward and took hold of her hands. "Yes, you'll like him. You're going to have to…"

She waited for him to continue, and when he didn't, she prodded him. "I'll have to what?"

He let out a sigh. "I was going to tell you to trust me, but that's a sore point with you, isn't it?"

She looked down at her hands. "I don't wish to talk about trust now. You broke my heart, Harrison."

"So you've said," he replied dryly.

She looked up at him so he could see her disgruntled expression. He shook his head at her.

"You really do hold a grudge, don't you? If you'd use that logical head of yours, you'd realize…"

"I'd realize you could have told me but you chose not to, that's what I'd realize," she whispered. She pulled her hands away from his. "I shouldn't have worn this blue dress. It makes me look pale."

"You look fine."

"I don't want to look fine."

" England is beautiful, isn't it?" he remarked, hoping to change the subject.

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "The countryside is lovely. It isn't home though."

"Give yourself time to adjust to the changes, Mary Rose."

"I miss my brothers."

"Did you miss me after I left?"

She wouldn't answer him. He leaned back again and turned to look out the window. It had been drizzling when they left the city, but the sun was out now, and it was turning into a glorious day.

"We'll be early," he said. "Your father doesn't expect us until around four this afternoon. We'll reach his estate before noon."

"Is it true everyone sleeps in and stays up half the night?"

Harrison nodded. "It's true. Are you tired today? I kept you up most of last night."

She immediately started to blush. "No, I'm not tired."

He grinned. "I am. Your body's forgiven me."

"You aren't making any sense, Harrison."

She looked flustered. He thought it was a telling reaction. "You can't help the way you respond to me, can you? Do you remember how you…"

"I was there," she blurted out. "You don't have to remind me of what happened between us. Please tell me how Lord Elliott reacted when he heard about me. I'm most curious."

"You're deliberately changing the subject. I'd rather talk about the way you felt in my arms last night."

"For the love of God, will you answer my question and stop this talk about lovemaking?"

"He didn't believe me."

"Who?"

Harrison laughed. She was rattled all right, and that realization made him feel an immense amount of pleasure.

"Your father," he explained.

She let out a sigh. Then she picked up her fan, unfolded it, and began to wave it in front of her face.

"I spent several hours convincing him," Harrison told her. "He's afraid to believe, Mary Rose. Want to sit on my lap?"

"No, I don't want to sit on your lap."

"I want to kiss you."

"You can't. I'll get all mussed."

Harrison had his way. Before she could even think about pushing him away, he lifted her across the seat and settled her on his lap. For comfort's sake, she put one arm around his shoulders, even as she glared at him for ignoring her decision to be left alone.

"I don't like your hair pinned up like that."

"Do you know why I'm glad you didn't cut your hair?"

"Why?"

She began to stroke the back of his neck, letting his silky hair thread through her fingers.

"You look more like a mountain man now and not so much like a refined Englishman."

He was kissing the side of her neck. She felt the shivers all the way down to her toes. She let out a soft sigh and tilted her head back to give him better access.

She thought she knew why he was becoming so amorous. He'd guessed she was worried and was trying to take her mind off her father.

It was certainly working. His warm breath against her ear aroused her, and all she wanted to think about was getting a proper kiss from him.

She didn't like being manipulated, however, and she thought she'd tell him just that after he'd finished kissing her.

"How come you always smell so good, sweetheart?"

"I take baths," she answered.

He laughed as he cupped her chin in his hand and turned her toward him.

And then he gave her a proper kiss. His mouth was warm and hard as it settled possessively on top of hers. His tongue moved inside to tease and taste, and it wasn't long at all before Mary Rose stopped worrying about everything but kissing him back.

He couldn't keep up the tender love play long. One kiss made him want it all. In no time at all, he was hard and aching to be inside her.

He pulled back from her and let his forehead drop down on top of hers. "Honest to God, Mary Rose, it isn't possible for me to kiss you without wanting to tear your clothes off and make love to you. Stop it now, sweetheart. Don't provoke me."

Mary Rose was kissing his neck and feeling incredibly powerful because of his reaction to her touch. His breathing was ragged, and he visibly shuddered.

She let out another little sigh of pleasure. She leaned up and kissed his chin. He told her to behave herself. She ignored the suggestion and stroked his lower lip with her tongue.

He growled low in his throat and tightened his hold around her waist. He was through trying to behave like a gentleman. He gave her a hot, wet, open-mouth kiss and then another and another. Mary Rose soon forgot where they were. She kept trying to get closer to her husband, to feel just a little more of his heat against her, and her restless movements in his lap made his own control vanish.

Making love to his wife seemed like a sound idea to him, and he didn't care at all that they were inside a moving vehicle. He wanted her, and she wanted him. Nothing else mattered.

She finally came to her senses when she felt his hand on her thigh. How he'd managed to get under her skirts was beyond her.

"What in heaven's name are we doing?" she whispered in a voice that trembled with her need. "We're in a carriage, Harrison. What could you be thinking?"

"We're married. It's all right. We can make love wherever we want to."

It sounded logical to him. Mary Rose pulled his hands away from her and moved back to the opposite seat. Her hand shook when she reached up to secure the pins in her hair, and it was only then that she realized her curls were hanging down around her shoulders.

Harrison was responsible for her disheveled appearance. She gave him a good frown as she threaded her fingers through the mass and tried to make the curls behave.

"You look beautiful."

The way he looked at her told her he believed she was beautiful. She quit trying to improve on her appearance then.

"Lust has made you blind," she told him.

"We're here. The gate we just passed is the entrance to your father's estate. He has over a hundred acres."

She took a deep breath. "Was he happy to hear you married me?"

"He was," Harrison replied. "But he was also disappointed he missed the ceremony. He wants to have another one."

Her eyes widened. "I don't believe that's necessary."

"He does," Harrison told her. "You can discuss it with him, after you've gotten to know him. Sweetheart, quit gripping your hands together. It's going to be all right. Just lean on me if you get scared."

"I'm perfectly capable of standing on my own two feet. My father doesn't frighten me."

It was all bluster on her part. Harrison wasn't going to argue with his wife though. If she wanted him to believe she wasn't scared, he'd pretend to believe her.

"Will the relatives be there too? Oh, Lord, Harrison, his house is huge. How many bedrooms are there?"

"Twelve, I think. I'm not certain. The relatives are scheduled to arrive late today."

"What time is it now?"

"Not quite eleven," he answered after he checked his pocket watch.

The carriage rounded a corner and then began the climb up to a circle drive in front of a large white home Mary Rose thought looked very like a palace. There were flowers everywhere and carefully manicured lawns with shrubs shaped into perfect lines.

There were tall stone lions on either side of the steps leading up to the front door. The stairs were red brick. She thought they must have cost a fortune to ship into England and then realized they were probably made somewhere around the city. Everything had to be shipped by rail and then by wagon into Blue Belle, but her father's home was only a short ride from a major city. It was completely different here. She would have to remember that, she thought to herself.

Harrison helped her out of the carriage. They walked side by side up the steps. The front door was black, with an oblong gold knocker in the very center. Two large white planter boxes were on either side of the entrance, and were filled with spring flowers in every color of the rainbow. Thick vines of lime green ivy trailed down the sides.

Mary Rose moved closer to Harrison as he reached up and knocked on the door. It was opened less than five seconds later by a thick-shouldered man named Russell. He bowed low and then hastily moved back to allow them entrance.

His reaction to the sight of her was similar to the reaction of the butler she'd met in Harrison 's town house. Russell looked just as startled as Edward had been.

"Yes, Russell, my wife does resemble Lady Agatha," Harrison said before the servant could gather his wits and make the comment.

The elderly man's eyes crinkled up in a smile. "She gave me quite a start, mi'lord," he admitted in a whisper.

Mary Rose barely paid attention to the conversation. She stood in the center of the foyer and stared about her in wonder. The entrance was every bit as impressive as the outside of the house. The floor was covered with squares of black and white marble, and its area alone was as large as Mary Rose's entire house back home. There was a grand circular staircase in front of her. Hanging low from a ceiling at least three floors high was a magnificent crystal chandelier. There were over fifty candles in the sparkling fixture, and Mary Rose couldn't imagine how anyone could reach that high to light them.

"Where's Lord Elliott?" Harrison asked. "Has he come downstairs yet today, or is he working in the library?"

"I'm not certain where he is at the moment, mi'lord. He wasn't expecting you until late this afternoon. Would you like to go upstairs and wait in the library while I search for him?"

Harrison shook his head. "It's too fine a day to stay inside. We'll go on out back and wait in the garden."

He pulled Mary Rose along after him. They went through another gigantic room she thought was probably called a salon or a parlor. There were two large sitting areas with settees facing each other, a gigantic marble-faced fireplace, and several round-backed chairs and small wooden tables with glass tops.

The fabric on all of the furniture was a rich ivory brocade. Mary Rose stopped to admire the room. She didn't believe she'd ever seen anything so extravagant.

Harrison watched her. "What are you thinking? You look puzzled about something," he remarked.

"It isn't practical," she whispered so she wouldn't be overheard by the staff. "A day's worth of dust coming in through the windows would ruin the cloth. Who would put white on their chairs?"

"Do you like it?"

"Oh, yes, but I would't dare sit on such fine chairs. I might put a smudge on one of them."

Harrison suddenly wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her. She was so wonderfully unspoiled.

"Shall we go on outside?" He took hold of her hand again and pulled her along to a pair of French doors. There was a wide stone courtyard beyond, surrounded by a three-foot-high brick wall. The courtyard overlooked a garden to rival all the pictures she'd seen of gardens owned by kings.

Harrison pushed the doors open and followed her outside. "Your father likes flowers," he remarked. "He told me once that when he has a particular puzzle to solve, he goes outside and pulls weeds. He's figured out how to win many a legal case while he was down on his knees. Your father surrounds himself with riches, but it's the simple things in life he most enjoys."

Mary Rose nodded, but didn't comment on Harrison 's explanation. He directed her to a cluster of chairs with yellow cushions and suggested she sit down and relax while he went to help Russell locate her father.

"Shouldn't we take our luggage upstairs and unpack our clothes? My dresses are going to be wrinkled if I don't hang them up right away."

"Staff will take care of our luggage."

She sat down and folded her hands in her lap. "Yes, of course," she agreed.

She'd forgotten about all the servants Lord Elliott employed. Harrison had rattled off at least a dozen names of men and women who worked for her father. She couldn't imagine having so many people attending to her needs. She was used to doing for herself, and she wasn't at all certain she would be able to adapt to the change very well.

Harrison leaned down and kissed her brow before going back inside. She was too nervous to sit still long. She didn't have the faintest idea what she would say to her father when she finally came face to face with him, and it had become extremely important to her that she find just the right words. She didn't want to disappoint him. He had searched for her most of her life, and a simple "Nice to meet you" didn't seem appropriate.

Mary Rose decided to walk along the stone path that led throughout the garden, hoping the leisurely stroll would help her calm her racing heartbeat and organize her thoughts.

She turned the first corner and was suddenly surrounded by the fragrance of summer. There were flowers all around her. The mingling of the scents reminded her of her valley back home, and though it didn't make much sense to her, she could feel herself begin to relax a little. She took a deep breath, clasped her hands behind her back, and continued on. She stopped several times to lean down and examine more closely a flower she didn't recognize. One she found most curious. The flower had red and pink petals that reminded her of a rose, yet when she bent down to inhale the scent, she was surprised by the heavy aroma of lilacs.

Being alone in the beautiful garden soothed her. She was pleased to know Lord Elliott liked the outdoors, and she thought that the two of them had something in common after all to talk about. She could tell him about her garden back home, and he could name all the flowers in his backyard paradise for her.

She straightened up and continued on along the path, and when she turned the next corner, she spotted an elderly man, bent down on one knee, carefully examining a flower. The man wasn't dressed like a gardener, for he wore dark Sunday pants and a sparkling white shirt. He'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. Mary Rose couldn't see his face because he wore a straw hat with a wide brim pulled down low on his forehead.

She thought he might be her father, but she couldn't be certain, of course, and she didn't know quite how to proceed. She almost turned around to hurry back to the courtyard, then changed her mind and continued forward.

Elliott heard the rustle of skirts behind him and assumed one of the maids had come outside to see if she could be of assistance. He reached over to his side, pulled the basket he'd already filled with flowers, and lifted it up for the maid to take.

"My daughter might like to have more than one vase of fresh flowers in her room," he explained.

He still hadn't looked up at her. Mary Rose took hold of the handle of the basket in her left hand, looped it over her arm, and continued to stand there, feeling completely tongue-tied and foolish.

Elliott didn't seem to notice she hadn't immediately taken the flowers inside. She patiently waited for him to look up at her. She thought she would probably begin the conversation by introducing herself, and, Lord, how she prayed her voice wouldn't betray her nervousness.

"I wonder if my Victoria likes flowers," he remarked.

She took a deep breath. "I like them very much, Father."

Elliott went completely still for what seemed an eternity to her, and then he slowly turned to look up.

His breath got trapped in the back of his throat and his heart felt as though it were going to explode into a thousand fragments. The first sight of his Victoria proved to be too much for him. Sunlight surrounded her golden head, giving her a mystical appearance, and for a brief moment, he thought his beloved Agatha had come down from heaven to be with him again.

She was her mother's daughter. Victoria had finally come home. Elliott couldn't catch his breath or his balance. He felt himself reeling to the side and would have fallen to the ground had she not reached down to offer him her hand.

He grasped hold of it as if it were a lifeline and held tight. And still he continued to stare up at her with a look of wonder in his gaze.

She smiled at him, a soft, beckoning smile so very like her mother's, and then she began to blur in his vision, and he realized he was weeping silent tears.

Mary Rose helped him stand up. She wanted to put her arm around his waist to steady him, but he wouldn't let go of her hand long enough to allow her to assist him.

His straw hat had fallen to the ground. She stared up at her father and thought to herself that he was indeed a handsome man, given his advanced age. In the sunlight his hair sparkled silver. He had high cheekbones and a nice, straight nose. The way he stood, so noble and proud, like a statesman or an orator, reminded her of her brother Adam, and she thought that if their skin color were more similar in tone, people would mistake them for relatives. Her brother had the blood of his chieftain ancestors coursing through his veins, and that was why he stood so proud. Did Lord Elliott come from such fine ancestors too? She would have to remember to ask him one day. Now it didn't seem appropriate.

Father and daughter continued to stare at one another for several more seconds. Elliott was valiantly trying to compose himself. He extracted a linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears away from his face.

And then he gave a brisk nod, squeezed her hand tight, and nodded once again.

The two of them turned and walked hand in hand back to the house. His voice was rough with emotion when he finally spoke to her.

"I'm very pleased to have you back home with me."

She nodded so he would know she understood and then tried to think of something to say to him in return.

She wanted to be completely honest with him, but kind too, and so she simply spoke from her heart.

"Father?"

"Yes, Victoria?"

"I'm pleased to know you didn't throw me away."

Lord Elliott's younger sister, Lillian, was the first of the family members to arrive for the reunion with Lady Victoria.

Of all the relatives, Lillian had been the most difficult to convince that her brother's daughter had truly been found. She had suffered all the disappointments along with Lord Elliott, had seen the anguish each pretender had caused, and worried that this too would end in yet another cruel deception.

The proof had been indisputable, of course, and yet Lillian still withheld judgment. She would decide for herself if Mary Rose Clayborne were Victoria or just a schemer out for financial gain.

"William, whatever are you doing sitting out here in the heat?" she asked as she rushed outside. "You're going to become ill if you aren't more careful."

Harrison, Lord Elliott, and Mary Rose all stood up when Lillian walked toward them. Her aunt kept her gaze fully directed on Mary Rose.

"She does look like Agatha all right," she allowed. "The resemblance is quite remarkable."

Elliott formally presented his daughter to his sister. Mary Rose smiled. She didn't know if she were supposed to bow or curtsy or shake her hand, and so she simply stood there and waited for Lillian to give her some clue as to what was proper conduct.

Lillian didn't look like her brother. She barely reached his shoulders. She was a thin woman with a hawkish nose and dark brown hair. She had the same high cheekbones though. Lillian would have been a more attractive woman if she didn't wear such drab colors. She was dressed in a dark gray dress that made her complexion look terribly pale. If she pinched her cheeks real hard, she might achieve a bit of color.

She also needed to quit scowling. She was all but openly glaring at Mary Rose.

"What is your name, child?" she demanded. She clasped her hands together as though in prayer while she waited for her answer.

"My name is Mary Rose Clayborne."

"She doesn't call herself Lady Victoria," Lillian remarked to her brother. "I wonder why not."

Mary Rose answered her. "I've always been called Mary Rose for as long as I can remember, madam. The name Victoria has no meaning to me."

Lillian was taken aback by the young woman's directness. Her frown intensified. "You look like my brother's late wife, but I'm still not fully convinced you're his daughter. Do you wish to try to convince me, child?"

Mary Rose decided to be completely honest, no matter how rude it made her appear.

"No, madam, I don't wish to try to convince you. I do, however, fervently wish you wouldn't call me a child. I'm not, you know."

"Lord, she's impertinent, William."

Mary Rose didn't know what to say about that. Her father came to her rescue. "She was being truthful, not impertinent."

Lillian nodded. "What are your plans?" she asked.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Lillian; My daughter only just arrived. We needn't talk about plans now. Sit down and quit pestering her."

"I simply wanted to get to the root of this as soon as possible."

"The root of what, madam?" Mary Rose asked.

Lillian took a step toward her. "Finding out if you're really Victoria. Let me have my say, William, and then I'll keep quiet no matter what you do. Are you Lady Victoria?" she pressed again.

"They say that I am," Mary Rose answered. "For my father's sake, I would like it to be true. I would like to give him some peace, and I understand he's been looking for me for a long, long time."

"And for your sake?"

Mary Rose didn't understand what she was asking. She looked up at Harrison, then returned her attention to Lillian. "I would like to spend a few weeks with my father, and then I will return home."

"It's far too soon to know what your plans are," her father interjected. He patted her hand. "You might wish to stay on here with me."

She didn't want to deceive him with false hopes. "I have four brothers back home. I must go back, Father."

"We'll discuss this later," he decided. "You need time to get to know all of us first. Lillian's the most difficult member of your family, my dear. You can see you've left her speechless. I must confess I didn't believe anyone could rattle my sister, but you certainly have."

Mary Rose was thoroughly confused. "I didn't mean to rattle you, madam."

" Harrison, doesn't she understand her father's worth?" Lillian asked.

"No, she doesn't understand," he replied. "Her values are different from those of the young women in England."

"Shall we go into the drawing room?" Lord Elliott suggested. "My sister looks in need of a refreshment."

"You and Harrison go on ahead. I want to have a word in private with my niece."

"I won't have you bullying her, Lillian."

"She won't bully me, Father."

Harrison didn't want to leave his wife with Lillian either. He knew how abrasive Elliott's sister could be. He didn't want Mary Rose upset, and if there'd been time, he would have taken her aside and explained that Lillian was all bark and little bite. She had a good heart. She just made certain no one knew about it.

"My daughter and I have been apart too long. Sorry, Lillian, but I must insist we all go inside together."

"We'll be along in just a minute, Father," Mary Rose said. "I also wish to have a private word with my aunt."

She didn't wait to gain the men's permission. She sat down again and suggested Lillian also take a seat.

Both women waited until they were alone. "Shall I start or would you like to, Aunt Lillian?"

"I shall start first," her aunt insisted. "Age has its benefits," she added with a smile. "I would like to trust your intentions, my dear, but I find it difficult. Yes, I've heard all the proof your husband has collected, and while it should seem to be positive that you are indeed our Victoria, I still have my doubts. I can certainly understand why you would wish to be my brother's heir."

"You can? Will you tell me why you believe I would wish to be Victoria?"

"Why, the position, the wealth, the…"

She was still so surprised by the question, she could barely gather her wits.

"I could give you just as many reasons why I wouldn't wish to be your niece. Being someone else certainly complicates my life, madam. I have a family in Montana. Is it selfish of me to be homesick?"

"Do you come from a wealthy family?"

"Yes, I believe I do. I have everything I could ever want."

"Are the members of this family as wealthy as your father?"

"I'm not certain," Mary Rose answered. "It's a different way of life, and a different kind of wealth," she tried to explain. "Why don't you want me to be Victoria?"

Lillian stared at Mary Rose for a long moment and then whispered, "You have your grandmother's eyes."

"My grandmother?"

Lillian nodded. A smile softened her expression. "I never heard Agatha say an unkind word about anyone, least of all her own mother. Your grandmother was a mean old bat, but she did have pretty blue eyes. Agatha is probably rolling over in her grave because I'm talking ill about her mother, but I'm speaking only the truth. She really was difficult to be around."

Mary Rose burst into laughter. Lillian looked extremely prim, but her remarks weren't at all proper.

"I don't want to see my brother hurt again."

"I will try not to hurt him," Mary Rose promised. "I want only to get to know him and then return to my home. I would correspond with him, of course, and hopefully one day he would wish to come and see me. I would like him to meet my brothers."

Lillian didn't know what to make of her. "Don't you realize what your father could give you?"

"Yes, I know exactly what he could give me. A father's love. I will protect his heart. And I will try to love him just the way a daughter should love her father. I haven't had any practice, but I'll learn."

"My dear, you're now a married woman, and therefore you are under your husband's control. Harrison 's home is in England. Surely you realize you must stay here with him."

She didn't realize any such thing. She wasn't about to share her views with Lillian though.

"Are you married, Aunt Lillian?"

"I was. My dear Kenneth passed on five years ago. We weren't blessed with children."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Mary Rose said.

"I keep busy. I have my charity projects and of course the family requires a great deal of my time and attention. Robert has seven children. They're always getting in trouble. Barbara's a sweet woman, but she can't control her brood. They have six girls and one boy," she added with a nod. "You will meet all of them in another hour or two."

"Who are Robert and Barbara?"

"They're your uncle and aunt. William, your father, is the firstborn, then I came along, then Daniel, and finally Robert. Barbara's his wife. Do you have a more suitable dress to put on before we dine, my dear?"

Mary Rose looked down at her skirts. She didn't see any smudges or wrinkles that were overly noticeable. "Is something wrong with this dress?"

"It's hopelessly old-fashioned."

"I paid a bloody fortune for the material," she argued.

Lillian let out a loud gasp. Her hand went to the base of her throat. "You mustn't talk like that, Victoria. One simply doesn't use the word 'bloody' unless one is common. We'll have to start work on improving your manners immediately. We have so much to do before you're presented to society. You mustn't forget who your father is."

She wasn't certain what her aunt was telling her, but the intense look on her face indicated it was important.

"No, I won't forget who my father is," she agreed. "Why haven't you remarried, Aunt Lillian? You're such a pretty woman. If you lived in Montana, you would have been pursued by at least ten men before your dearly departed was even in the ground."

"Good heavens, child. Don't be impertinent."

"I'm not being impertinent," Mary Rose countered. "Just honest."

Lillian reached up to make certain her bun was intact, then stood up. "You'll have to remember to keep your opinions to yourself, Victoria. You're bound to shock people if you say what's on your mind."

It suddenly occurred to Mary Rose that Lillian was accepting her as her brother's child.

"You couldn't have changed your mind so quickly, madam," she remarked.

"The proof's difficult to argue with, but I shall reserve judgment. I'm giving you the benefit of my doubts, my dear."

"Why?"

"It's rude to ask so many questions, Victoria. Come along inside. Your father and your husband have waited long enough for your company."

"I have a favor to ask of you first."

Lillian turned back to her niece. "Yes?"

"Please call me Mary Rose."

"But you aren't Mary Rose any longer, now, are you? You're Victoria. You're going to have to get used to hearing your name."

She latched on to Mary Rose's arm and pulled her along. "I understand your friend will be joining you tomorrow. What is her name?"

"Her name is Eleanor," Mary Rose explained. "I believe you'll like her, Aunt Lillian. Her manners are better than mine."

"We shall see about that," Lillian replied.

Mary Rose followed her aunt inside the salon. Neither Harrison nor her father noticed her. They were in the midst of a heated debate.

"They want you to have this money, sir. I believe you should take it," Harrison said.

He stood in front of the hearth with his back to his bride. Mary Rose walked over to her husband and stood next to his side.

"I will not take it," Lord Elliott announced for the third time. "Send it back to them, Harrison."

Harrison shook his head. Mary Rose brushed her arm against his. He immediately took hold of her hand.

"Are you talking about the money my brothers sent?" she asked.

"Yes," Harrison answered. "Your father doesn't want it back."

Lord Elliott was sitting in a wing chair adjacent to the hearth. Mary Rose turned to him.

"It would please my brothers if you would take the money back, Father."

The look on Elliott's face indicated he was going to be stubborn about it. He started to say something to her, then changed his mind and turned to his sister for assistance.

Lillian immediately hurried forward. "You shouldn't involve yourself in this discussion, Victoria. Let the men sort it all out. Shall we go upstairs and look through your clothes? I'm sure we'll be able to find something a little more suitable for you to wear tonight."

Mary Rose heard Harrison sigh. He squeezed her hand and looked down at her. "Go ahead, sweetheart. We'll talk about this later."

She'd been properly dismissed. If she'd been back home, she would have argued something fierce about being excluded from "men's talk," but she wasn't home now. She was in England. The rules weren't at all the same here, and she was suddenly feeling unsure of herself. She had promised her brothers she would try to get along with all of her relatives, and so she meekly followed her aunt out of the room. She paused at the entrance to give Harrison a good frown just to let him know what she thought about being excluded, but his reaction wasn't at all sympathetic. He actually winked at her, and that only pricked her temper all the more. She let out a sigh then and went on up the stairs. She would have to wait until later to let Harrison know how she felt.

She spent the next hour arguing with her aunt Lillian about her wardrobe. The woman seemed obsessed with clothes. Mary Rose found her behavior puzzling. She thought it was ridiculous that Lillian couldn't find anything suitable for her to wear. Why, she showed her eight perfectly lovely day dresses. Lillian looked them over, then shook her head. In a haughty tone of voice, she emphatically rejected every single one of them.

Mary Rose tried not to let her feelings get involved. Things were different here, she reminded herself. Still, she had personally chosen the fabric and the style of two of the dresses her aunt had found so distasteful. She couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed.

She ended up keeping her blue dress on. Lillian went back downstairs to send a messenger to a dressmaker.

She paused in the doorway. "Tomorrow, after you've had your examination by the physicians my brother has scheduled, you and I will go over fabrics and begin to build your wardrobe."

"I don't need to see a doctor," Mary Rose protested. "I feel fine, really."

"Don't be difficult, Victoria. It's for your own good. I shall make certain you're seated next to me at the table tonight so that I can assist you with your table manners. You may rest now for an hour, and then come downstairs. Robert and his family should be here by then."

"Aunt Lillian? You mentioned another brother, Daniel. Will he be visiting?"

"Daniel and his wife are in the south of France. They'll be back home in another week or two. You'll meet him then. His wife's name is Johanna. They have three children, all fine boys. Have your nap now, Victoria. I'll send Ann Marie in to assist you."

Mary Rose didn't ask why she needed a maid to help her rest. Lillian would only tell her she was being impertinent again. She didn't argue about taking a nap either, though she couldn't imagine why anyone would want to sleep during the day. She wasn't at all tired, but, Lord, she was weary. There were so many names to remember, and so many rules she must try to obey.

How in heaven's name was she going to meet everyone's expectations? Mary Rose had never run away from a challenge, and she wasn't about to start now. She decided she would do whatever was required to please her relatives.

Ann Marie came into the room to help her remove her dress, then turned back the covers on the bed. Mary Rose was really expected to rest, she supposed, when the young servant pulled the drapes closed.

The room was quite spacious and was done in rich gold tones. She found it quite soothing. She stretched out on the bed wearing only her chemise and stacked her hands behind her head. She stared up at the ceiling while she tried to sort out her feelings.

She thought about her father and what a kind man he was. She liked the way he smiled. She liked his voice too. It was soft, yet commanding. When she wrote to her brothers she would tell them Lord Elliott was a very nice man.

Harrison came inside just a few minutes later.

"Your father's being stubborn," he told his wife. "He seems to think the money your brothers sent should go right back to them. He called it payment for letting you live with them. He doesn't understand, of course."

Mary Rose rolled onto her side so she could look at her husband. "He didn't like it when I mentioned my brothers. I could tell by the way he looked at me. He seemed… disappointed."

"Give him time to get used to the idea of you having another family," Harrison suggested.

"Did you know I must have an examination tomorrow by two physicians?"

Harrison took off his jacket, tossed it on a nearby chair, and then sat down on the side of the bed. He bent over to take his shoes and socks off. "Your father mentioned it to me," he remarked.

"Why must I be examined? I feel fine."

"The doctors will give your father the assurance he seems to need. It can't do any harm, can it? I'll put a stop to it if you really don't want to be looked over."

She thought about it for a minute and then decided to appease her father. Her husband was right, she supposed. There couldn't be any harm in being examined.

"It's a waste of good money," she said in a halfhearted attempt to protest. "But I'll go along with his plans. You haven't asked me what I think of my father. Aren't you curious?"

He half turned to smile at her. "I already know what you think. You're curious about him, of course. I've noticed the way you stare at him when he isn't looking at you. You already like him, and I think you'd like to love him."

She nodded. Harrison was as observant as ever. "I'm his daughter. I should love him, shouldn't I?"

"Yes."

"Can I trust him?"

He was surprised by the question. "Yes," he answered. "You can trust him. You can trust me too, you know."

She didn't want to talk about that. She tried to change the subject then, but Harrison wouldn't let her.

"I realize I shouldn't have demanded you trust me. It was probably a little arrogant of me."

"Probably?"

"You haven't figured it all out yet, have you?"

"Figured what out?"

"That love and trust go hand in hand. You couldn't love me if you didn't trust me. And you do love me, don't you?"

She didn't answer him. The issue of trust was still tender for her to talk about. Harrison had hurt her by deliberately deceiving her. She understood why he'd kept silent about his reason for coming to her ranch… in the beginning. Yes, she understood his motives, but after they'd given their pledge of love to one another, he'd continued to keep silent. He'd explained that the duty of telling her about her father belonged to her brothers. She understood that fact as well.

Yet he had deceived her, and, though she was afraid to voice her fear, she didn't know if he would ever deceive her again.

Trust between them would have to be rebuilt, stone by stone, and Harrison was going to have to be patient with her until she got over her fears.

"I'm not ready to discuss this with you," she announced. "You're going to have to give me time to sort it all out, like it or not. Yes, I do love you," she added when he gave her such a ferocious frown. "And while you're waiting, you might think about learning how to trust me," she added.

"You're making me angry, Mary Rose."

"But you love me, don't you?"

"Yes, I love you."

He didn't sound happy about the fact. She wasn't upset by his attitude. Harrison liked to have everything in neat little compartments, and having to wait for anything went against his grain. He'd been logical with her, and he fully expected her to behave and think in the same manner.

"I hope I can remember everyone's names tonight."

She was deliberately changing the subject. Harrison went back to the task of removing his pants. "I'll help you remember. We need to talk about George MacPherson, sweetheart. He's your father's personal assistant. He won't be here tonight; he still isn't back from his holiday yet. I don't want you to tell him how Douglas saw a man and a woman together on the street corner with the basket. Act as if you don't know anything about that night."

"Is he the one who took me?'"

"I think so, but I still haven't proven it. I've been poring over the old ledgers. MacPherson couldn't have saved up thousands of dollars to give to his accomplice, so he had to have taken the money out of one of Elliott's accounts. I haven't found the discrepancy yet. I will though."

"Wasn't MacPherson investigated at the time of the kidnapping?"

"Yes, he was. I don't believe the authorities looked at the books as thoroughly as they should have though."

"Could I help you?"

He started to deny her request, then changed his mind. She was his wife now, and although he was used to working alone, he found he wanted her to be involved. Working together would be a novel experience.

"Yes, you can help."

"You do realize that if we simply asked Douglas to come to England, he could point MacPherson out as the culprit."

"Memories change over the years and so do appearances," Harrison replied. "The defense would shred Douglas 's recollections. It wouldn't be reliable without supporting evidence."

"Have you told my father about MacPherson?"

"Not yet," Harrison answered. "I don't think he'll be able to work with the man if he knows I plan to tell him everything, of course, just as soon as I find proof. Do you want me to tell him now?"

"Would you if I wanted you to?"

"Yes."

She was pleased that Harrison would do what she wanted. She considered the problem and then decided he was right to wait.

"It would be difficult for him not to show his hand, and then MacPherson could very well become suspicious. Why, he could disappear on us, and we can't have that, can we? No, I think we should wait to tell him. He'll understand."

"The way you understood why I waited to tell you the reason I'd journeyed to Montana?"

"This is different," she argued. "I don't know my father well, but I can't imagine he would have a poker face."

Harrison raised an eyebrow. "A poker face?"

"He'd let his feelings show. A good poker player never lets others know what he's thinking. I'll bet you win lots of games of chance, don't you? You rarely let anyone know what you're thinking. Does everyone rest during the afternoons?"

The switch in subjects didn't faze him. He was getting used to how his wife's mind worked.

"Most women do."

"What about men?"

Harrison stripped out of the rest of his clothes before answering her. "Some men rest, but I'm not going to. I want you too much. You about finished talking, sweetheart?"

She rolled onto her back just as he came down on top of her. She put her arms around his neck and stared up into his eyes. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck. "Do you like my clothes?"

"Hell, no. I hate your clothes. I like you naked."

He wasn't giving her the assurance she needed. She decided not to worry any longer about anything as foolish as her wardrobe. She had something far more important to do now. She was going to make love to her husband, and she was determined to drive him completely out of his mind first.

"How long are we allowed to stay in our room and rest?"

He nibbled on the side of her neck while he answered her. "A couple of hours. Why?"

"That should be long enough. Please get off me."

His head snapped up. "You don't want me to…"

"Oh, yes," she answered breathlessly. "I want you to, but I want to first."

"I don't have a prayer of ever figuring out what you just said, do I?"

"Do you want me to explain or would you rather I showed you?"

He immediately rolled onto his back. "Show me."

She was blushing like a virgin but behaving like a temptress. Harrison stacked his hands behind his head and waited to see what she would do.

Mary Rose sat up and then leaned forward on her knees. The look in her husband's eyes helped her get past her shyness. She slowly untied the satin ribbon holding her undergarment together over her breasts, and then pushed the straps down.

She took her time disrobing, and she was pleased to notice Harrison 's breathing had become uneven.

Once she'd completely removed the chemise, she leaned forward and let her breasts rub against his chest. Her hair spilled down across his shoulders.

"Are you ticklish?" she whispered the question as she trailed her fingertips down his hard, flat middle.

He inhaled sharply. "No."

She moved down his body then, and he fully expected her to find out for herself if he was telling the truth by kissing his stomach.

She kissed his arousal instead. He almost came off the bed. He clenched his jaw tight and closed his eyes. She caressed him with her fingertips and with her mouth, and, dear God, he couldn't stand the torment long. When she took him fully into her mouth and began to suckle him, he let out a loud raw shout and forced her to move away from him.

He wasn't gentle with her. He was close to gaining his release, and he was determined to give her pleasure first. He lifted her up, roughly parted her thighs, and forced her to straddle him.

"Take me inside you," he ordered in a voice that sounded as though he were in acute pain.

She shook her head. "Not yet," she whispered. She leaned forward and put the flat of her hand on his shoulder. And then she began to torment him with sweet kisses. The tip of her tongue rubbed across his lips. Harrison cupped the back of her neck and leaned up, forcing her to deepen the kiss. Her tongue moved inside then to stroke the roof of his mouth.

Harrison couldn't stand being passive any longer. His hands moved to fondle her breasts. She moved restlessly against him, letting him know how much she liked the way he touched her.

He stroked her stomach, and then his hand moved down between her thighs, and he began to ready her with his fingers. When he felt her wet heat, his hands moved to her hips. He lifted her up until the tip of his erection penetrated her and slowly forced her to take him deep inside her.

She wasn't certain what she was supposed to do now, but the urge to move made her begin to rotate her hips.

He let out a low groan and clasped her hips tight. It was all the encouragement she needed. She focused all of her concentration on pleasuring him and gaining her own satisfaction. Her movements were instinctive now, though certainly awkward, but Harrison didn't seem to mind.

She stayed in control until he reached down and began to caress her into gaining her own orgasm, and when he couldn't hold out any longer and he thrust up hard inside her and spilled his seed, the silky walls surrounding him began to spasm and tighten. She cried out his name in a near shout as she found her own fulfillment.

Moments later she collapsed on top of him. The side of her face rested against his chest. His heartbeat thundered in her ears and seemed to be as erratic and loud as her own.

It took him a long while to come back to reality. He held her in his arms and couldn't seem to stop stroking her while he slowly regained his strength and his wits.

When he was finally able to speak again, he said, "What was that all about?"

She suddenly felt embarrassed by what she'd done to him. "You didn't like it?" she whispered.

He heard the worry in her voice and started to laugh. Not like it? Just thinking about her sweet wet mouth coming down on top of him made him want to make love to her again. Hell, he was already beginning to feel the first stirrings of arousal.

He twisted her hair in his hand, forced her to lift up her head and look at him, and then grinned at her. "Yeah, I liked it. Couldn't you tell?"

She smiled with pleasure. "I thought you did. I like the way you taste."

He let but a low groan. Then he pulled her down for a long kiss. One wasn't enough, and so he kissed her again and again, and it wasn't long at all before they were both restless for more.

They made love a second time, though the pace was much slower. Harrison wouldn't let her have much control. He was determined to torment her in just the same way she'd tormented him. They were both thoroughly undone and satisfied.

When at last it was time to get dressed, Mary Rose was yawning. Harrison looked just as tired, she was happy to notice.

Ann Marie insisted on putting her hair up in a cluster of curls behind her head. Mary Rose gave in once the servant explained she was following Lady Lillian's instructions.

Harrison told her she looked beautiful. After three hours of being gawked at and questioned by a horde of well-meaning relatives, she wasn't so certain how she looked. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about the way she walked and talked. The evening was a strain on her, for she wasn't used to being the center of attention, but she held on to her smile and tried to be understanding about their curiosity.

Her Aunt Barbara was a force to be reckoned with. The woman was tall and very well endowed. She accepted Mary Rose as her niece the moment she saw her. She took her into her arms, smashed her face into her bosoms, and began to pound her on her back as though she were a crying infant in need of calming.

"You poor, poor child," she repeated over and over. "It's all right now. You're home with your family. Everything's going to be fine. We're all here to love you and take care of you."

Aunt Barbara wouldn't let go of her. Uncle Robert finally came to her rescue. "You're smothering her, Barbara," he announced a scant second before he pulled Mary Rose into his arms and hugged the breath right out of her.

She looked at Harrison while she was being embraced and saw his amusement. He stood across the drawing room with her father, watching her being pulled in three directions at once.

She smiled at him and then turned her attention back to her extremely affectionate aunt and uncle. Their acceptance of her was humbling, though several of their comments were most bewildering. Her Aunt Barbara seemed to think Mary Rose had suffered some deplorable injustice over the past years. She wasn't a victim, for heaven's sake, but by the end of the evening, she realized all of her relatives thought she was.

She tried not to become angry with them. They didn't understand what a rich and full life she had with her brothers, she reasoned, and that was why they all thought she'd been deprived.

She was introduced to her cousins and found them all perfectly delightful. The oldest was just fourteen and getting ready for her introduction to society. Her five younger sisters were like stair steps in age and appearance. The youngest was a boy, named Robert after his father. He was seven years old and didn't want to be bothered meeting his cousin. The moment he'd run into the drawing room, he'd spotted Harrison and hadn't left his side since. The child obviously adored Mary Rose's husband.

The children weren't allowed to dine with the adults and were sent upstairs when supper was announced.

Mary Rose thought it was odd to exclude the children, but she didn't make her opinion known, for her Aunt Lillian had already cautioned her to guard what she said.

She was seated between her Aunt Barbara and her Aunt Lillian. Harrison was at the opposite end of the table.

Dining, she soon realized, was a solemn affair. No one spoke above a whisper, and waiters hovered about while they served the food from beautiful silver platters.

Mary Rose made her first error before she'd even begun to eat. She asked her aunt if they were going to say grace. Her father heard the question and suggested she lead them in a prayer of thanksgiving.

She did just that, but didn't finish her prayer. No one would have heard her anyway, given the fact that her aunt Lillian was screeching like an attacking Indian.

"Dear God, William, they raised her Catholic. What are we to do?"

"You poor child," Barbara interjected. "You poor, poor child."

"I'm not Catholic yet," Mary Rose said. "I haven't made up my mind which religion I shall embrace."

"You haven't made up your mind? Victoria, the Elliott family have been faithful members of the Church of England for years and years. You're an Elliott, my dear," Lillian explained.

"Can't I be an Elliott and a Catholic at the same time? Or Jewish or…"

Lillian's loud gasp of disapproval made Mary Rose stop. She guessed she'd rattled her aunt with her opinions, she concluded, when the dear woman knocked over her water glass.

"I didn't wish to upset you," Mary Rose said. "My brothers and I decided to study all the different religions before we made up our minds."

"We have our work cut out for us, Lillian," Barbara announced.

Lillian nodded agreement. "It's difficult to know where to begin. There's so much to change."

She turned to her niece. "If your mother or your grandmother could hear you talk about other religions, why, they'd both die of fright."

"They're already dead," Elliott snapped. "I find it admirable Victoria would wish to learn about other religions. Indeed I do. I'm certain, of course, that she'll decide to join the Church of England."

Mary Rose didn't argue with him. She wasn't certain she'd do any such thing, but she didn't want to get into a lengthy discussion at the table.

Harrison was irritated by Elliott's decision. "The choice will be hers to make, won't it, sir?"

Elliott shrugged. He decided to change the subject to a less upsetting one. Lillian's face was bright red. She'd had enough surprises for one evening.

" Victoria, did you know you were named after your grandmother?"

Her eyes widened. She leaned toward Aunt Lillian and whispered, "I was named after the old bat?"

Lord Elliott heard his daughter. He tried hard not to smile. Lillian let out a loud groan and her hand went back up to her throat again. Mary Rose realized she'd spoken out of turn, and she tried to think of something to say to redeem herself.

Her father seemed to take it all in stride. His voice was droll when he said, "No, Victoria, not the old bat, the other grandmother."

And then he smiled at her and suggested they eat.

The rest of the meal was subdued. Mary Rose had been hungry when she sat down, but now her stomach was too upset for her to even think about eating. She moved the food around on her plate and pretended to enjoy herself.

She didn't care for the formality. Suppers were supposed to be loud and chaotic. It was the only time all her brothers were together, and each would catch the others up on what he'd accomplished during the day. They would argue and tease each other, and there was always something they could all laugh about.

She felt as if she were at a funeral now. She wanted to go upstairs to bed. She didn't dare ask to be excused, however, and dutifully followed her aunt Lillian's instructions all through the long, seemingly endless meal.

Her father made a lovely toast in honor of her return and her marriage to Harrison. Barbara came up with the idea that a reception held in late September would be a wonderful way to celebrate the union. Lillian embraced the notion.

They began to make their plans in hushed voices. Mary Rose was soon lulled half asleep.

She wasn't allowed to go to bed for another hour, and by then she was so exhausted, she could barely make it up the stairs.

Ann Marie was waiting for her. And so was the rose. The long-stemmed red flower had once again been placed on her pillow. The sight of the rose made her smile.

She was sound asleep by the time Harrison joined her. He leaned down to kiss her good night and was inordinately pleased to see she was holding on to the flower while she slept. He removed the rose, got into bed, and let her hold on to him instead.

Tonight had been difficult for her. He had seen how confused she looked, and at times he was certain she was overwhelmed by all the attention she was receiving.

She hadn't eaten any of her supper. He noticed, of course, and thought that the constant criticism she received was the reason for her loss of appetite. It had certainly destroyed his.

Mary Rose had handled herself well. She'd reacted to the chaos much better than he had. He'd been shaking with anger over her relatives' thoughtless remarks, but she'd been quite gracious to all of them.

Harrison fell asleep worrying about his wife. Yes, this evening had been difficult.

And it was only going to get worse.

October 3, 1872

Dear Mama Rose,

Will you please quit hounding me to take a bride? You know I'm not in a position to even think about marrying. I could be carted off to jail or hung off a tree branch, and I don't want to make a woman a widow or force her to live the way I've had to live.

Besides, I like it just fine the way things are now. I keep to myself and don't have to answer to anyone. The last thing I need is a woman pestering me.

Your letter explaining about a woman's monthly arrived in the nick of time. Mary Rose suffered terrible back pains and hid up in her room for two whole days. She still won't talk about becoming a woman, but I know your letter telling her what to expect helped her. She doesn't like being a female, Mama, but we both know one of these days she'll change her mind. She's going to have to learn to quit punching all the boys who come calling.

She still doesn't realize how pretty she is. None of us think she'll ever turn vain. With four older brothers constantly harping at her, it isn't possible for her to develop airs. She certainly turns the men's heads in town. Wait until you see her, Mama. She's a piece of work, all right. She's sassy and smart, and those blue eyes of hers are going to break quite a few hearts.

Lord, how I hate to see her grow up.

Love,

Adam