Page 29 of Weeping Roses

“I’m sorry, little one. I sympathize and know it is hard to deal with.”

I smile briefly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“We share a common memory.” He adds, and I nod sadly.

“They died in a car accident and I suppose at least they were together in death.”

His arms feel so good it makes me relax a little and I sigh. “It was a few years ago now, and it was a scary time. Luckily, they left me well cared for and it gave me time to grieve without worrying about money.”

I glance around me and smile softly. “And now I must be grateful to another family member for caring for me in her death even though she wasn’t interested when she was alive.”

“Can you remember anything about her at all?”

His deep tone sounds like genuine concern, but I’m guessing he has an ulterior motive and it sparks a memory that occurred to me yesterday.

“Valentin, I thought of something that may help your mystery.”

He tenses and I note the interest spark in his eyes. I stare up at him and fight the urge to press my lips against his as I whisper, “You mentioned a woman called Marsha Steele. I know of her.”

His hold tightens and his voice drops even deeper as he says urgently, “What do you know?”

“When my aunt died, I received a sympathy card from her. The name was unfamiliar, and she introduced herself as my aunt’s close friend. She said she would be in London next week and would love to meet me. She had many fond memories of her time with my aunt and wanted to talk about them.”

I shake my head. “I decided not to meet her because my aunt wasn’t interested in me, so why would I be interested in her? But now, given her involvement with your family, I think I should.”

“Where?”

“London. She told me she had a house there and I could meet her for afternoon tea. Apparently, it’s not far from my aunt’s home in Kensington. I suppose I could check that out at the same time and make plans to sell it because I really want the money so I can move in here permanently.”

I’m rambling and the confusion on his face tells me that and I say with a slight giggle. “I’m sorry. It was just a thought. What do you think I should do?”

As my question waits for an answer, I see something shift in his eyes. His earlier softness has been replaced by harsh reality and all his problems have come back to bite him, and I feel responsible for that.

He nods, a stony expression on his face and says, “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all week, but there’s one problem that you may not be happy with.”

“What?”

I’m confused, and he smiles into my eyes and whispers, “It means that you don’t get rid of me for a little while longer.”

His words cause me to smile because for some reason the idea of him leaving is not sitting well with me and I’m guessing last night had a lot to do with that.

CHAPTER 16

VALENTIN

Why does that name keep on cropping up? Marsha Steele is central to this entire mystery and her organization, Burning Roses, is where we should focus our efforts.

I spend most of the morning back in the coach house sifting through mountains of paperwork that is as helpful as a chocolate coffee mug. I am so frustrated and hate that we’re wasting time.

My men work hard, but there is obviously nothing here of interest.

Luckily, my chef Simon arrives and wastes no time in setting up in the kitchen, which leaves Polly to explore her new home at leisure rather than worrying about drinks and snacks for her unwelcome guests.

Just before lunch, I decide to stretch my legs and go in search of her because, for some reason, despite my task at hand, she is all I can think of.

Once again, I find her in her in Veronica’s study and this time she has a different task. The old chest that disturbed us in the night is open on the rug and she is sitting cross-legged in front of it. The way she is biting her lip in concentration captures my attention, as does the messy way she had piled her hair on top of her head, the silky strands escaping, trailing down to her creamy white neck that is wrapped in a silk scarf to disguise my brutal attention last night.

The shock on her face when she stared into the mirror this morning has been an amusing memory to keep me sane as I reflect on the horror and anger when she saw the bruising and bite marks revealing what we did last night.