Page 88 of Weeping Roses
“Two Points?” Ana asks and she nods.
“The finishing school. Courtesy of the two mountains that it nestled between. Such happy times.”
She says sadly. “Veronica never married, to my knowledge. She was a bit of a loner, more Marsha’s friend than mine. She was the only British woman in our friendship group and never really fitted in with the rest of us. Adele and I shared many past acquaintances and came from the same state, whereas Marsha came from a small town in Idaho. She had won a scholarship to the school because her family was poor and I suppose that’s what drove her. I believe she is quite the successful businesswoman now, but I only learned that through the gossip columns.”
Ana is silent and I’m still feeling awkward and Grace gazes down at the photograph and sighs.
“I’m sorry you never got to meet your aunt, Polly, but take it from someone who did. I doubt you would have learned much about her, anyway. Veronica kept her life private and never gossiped like the rest of us. She was a woman of secrets and it didn’t surprise me at all that we lost touch with her when we graduated.”
“Did you keep in touch with the others?” Ana asks and Grace shakes her head.
“Only Adele for a short while because I met your father, and the rest is history. I came to Russia and my old life faded into memories.”
She smiles and hands me the photograph.
“But you’re here now, Polly, and despite my son robbing me of the society wedding I crave, let me formally welcome you into the family as the first Romanov bride of the next generation. God help your soul.”
CHAPTER 47
VALENTIN
Titus is waiting in his den with a glass of vodka and a stern expression on his face.
As I drop into the seat opposite him, my fingers close around the glass and I toss the liquid back in one.
“That bad?” He asks, shaking his head and I huff.
“Did you get my message?”
“Of course.” He drums his fingers on the desk and says with a bitter smile. “Ana has been briefed and is watching mama for any reaction.”
I reach inside my pocket and remove the envelope, pushing it toward him without saying a word.
He opens it and I watch his expression darken as he reads the words on the page and then he sets it down and shakes his head.
“Do you think it’s genuine?”
“I have no reason to believe it’s not.”
“It’s a ticking bomb in the wrong hands.” He adds and I nod, reaching for the bottle and splashing a shot into each of our glasses.
“There are two mysteries that appear unconnected but rested in the same locked box.” I say gruffly, and he nods, reaching for the glass with a thoughtful gleam in his eye.
“Marsha Steele.” He says abruptly. “I organized a search of her offices when she was in London?”
“Did you discover anything of interest?”
He laughs darkly. “I discovered a great deal of interest. The list of her members should be published in Who’s Who. There are some surprising names on that list and it’s no wonder she guards it with her life.”
“Anyone of interest?”
“A few, but seeing pa’s name on it didn’t make for a pleasant experience.”
He sighs heavily and resumes drumming his fingers on the desk.
“His association dates back to the beginning. He is listed as attending many gatherings, always with the same Iris Mahoney. It’s the code name she gives to all her girls, but there is one particular document that lists the girls by their real names.”
He pauses before saying bitterly, “He is the only member who always accompanied the same woman. Veronica Scott-Stanley. There are no other names associated with him and from her records they met four times a year.”