Valentine's Rose (15 page)

“Val, you don’t have to carry me. I can walk.” Despite Rose’s objection, her husband scooped her into his arms and carried her downstairs. She circled her arms around his neck, still amazed by his strength. She hated putting him out, but was glad for his attention “I did manage to get dressed this morning without your help.”

“Not used to being pampered like a fine lady?” His mouth kicked up in a teasing half-smile. “We need to practice more.”

Ever since he’d rushed her back to town to see a doctor, he’d insisted on carting her everywhere, as well as dressing—and undressing—her. He curled up beside her in bed at night, holding her close, soothing her when she woke crying out and trembling. The night terrors weren’t as frequent or intense as they’d been the first few nights, true to the doctor’s prediction when he said her mind would heal as the injury to her head healed. He’d given her medicine, but it was Val’s tender care that did the most good.

Val swept her into the parlor where Charm, Delilah and Susannah sat, reading and sewing. The three had taken turns sitting with Rose during the days she’d been on strict bed rest.

“Rose, dear, it’s good to see you up and around.” Susannah vacated the sofa, taking with her the trousers she’d been mending—Danny’s, based on the size. She draped a knitted throw over the arm of the couch. “Wrap this around you so you won’t get chilled.”

“Chilled?” The weather had turned warm, and Rose tended to be hot-blooded.  “I’ve been keeping my window open at night to let in a breeze. I’m roasting.”

“We can’t have you roasting. I’ll find you a fan.” Val settled her on the bolstered seat. The careful way he handled her, one might think she would break. She loved all the attention, but worried about his motive.

He’d declared the entire incident his fault, which it wasn’t. Every time she tried to argue with him about it, he told her quarreling would hinder healing. They
would
talk about it, now that she’d been released from her feather-mattress prison.

He kissed the top of her head before he set off in search of a fan.

Soon as he was gone, Charm closed the book in her lap. She’d taken off her shoes and tucked her legs underneath her mint-green skirt, curled up in the chair like a child. Her behavior flouted what would be deemed “acceptable,” but she somehow managed to get away with it because she looked so innocent and naïve. 

“He’s become domesticated,” she observed with amusement twinkling in her luminous brown eyes. She twirled a golden curl. “Does he jump when you crook your finger?

Growing warmer, Rose removed the shawl Val had wrapped around her shoulders and laid it next to the throw. Charm might be as tiny and adorable as a child, but her naiveté had to be an act. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s just doing his penance.”

“That ought to take awhile...sixty, seventy years.” Susannah didn’t smile at the amusing remark. Though she had admitted to warming up to Val. Rose had decided it wasn’t just Val or Mr. Hardt she distrusted. Men, in general, were the problem. “Mrs. Fry said she’d serve sandwiches in the dining room as soon as the other ladies are done interviewing the suitors.”

Interviewing?
That made it sound like they were hiring help.

“You mean socializing,” Rose corrected.

Susannah didn’t look up from her sewing. “Yes, of course.”

“How is it going?” Rose was almost afraid to ask. When she’d left, none of the other women had been close to accepting proposals, and Mr. Hardt’s patience had to be reaching an end.

“Two more marriages this week. Faster than I expected.” Susannah finally looked up from the mending in her lap and made a disgruntled face. “But not fast enough for Mr. Hardt. I suspect he would’ve thrown us into the street if it weren’t for your injury.”

Rose didn’t believe the railroad agent to be as callous as he’d first seemed, but she wouldn’t convince Susannah, so she saw no reason to try.

“He did tell us that Mr. Jarvis will be charged with attempted murder and face trail—after his fractured wrist and broken jaw heal.” Charm’s lips curved in a satisfied smile. “He won’t be breaking out this time.”

Rose didn’t feel pleased or amused, only relieved. “I never want to see that awful man’s face again.”

Charm’s smile faded. “I suppose you’ll have to see him when you testify in court.”

“Testify?” Rose pulled her mother’s shawl around her shoulders, not for warmth but for the comfort it brought.

“Just look him in the eye while you tell the court what the low-down skunk did. They’ll lock him up and throw away the key.” Delilah’s fierce outburst surprised everyone. The shy Southern belle rarely spoke. Her beautiful face had flawless skin on one side, but on the other, scars from what looked like burns ravaged her cheek. That might account for her shyness. Her angry remark would imply she’d had experience with cruelty. It was the first time she’d let out even an inkling of her past.

Rose felt a keen sympathy. She gingerly touched her forehead. The cut had required stitching, and would probably leave a scar. She’d been assured it would fade, but she’d been horrified when she looked into a mirror. Purplish red bruises had darkened to almost black, and had even spread around her eyes.

Val had tried to comfort her. He’d insisted a scar wouldn’t diminish her beauty. Rather, it would add character. He’d even joked about the “rainbow” across her forehead as being a sign from God that nothing bad would happen to her again, and if the Almighty slipped up, her husband would be at her side to make sure she remained safe.

He hadn’t said he loved her.

Misery dropped like a rock to the pit of her stomach.

She refused to let Val commit his life to her out of guilt or even a sense of obligation. Over the past few days, she had come to a decision. Even if he reached the point where he forgave himself for past sins, he still might not want to build a life here with her. She wouldn’t fit into his world no matter how long she practiced being a fine lady, and he knew it. He’d always known this, but he’d been too considerate to come right out and say it. No, as much as it hurt, she had to let him go. As soon as he returned, she would take him aside and tell him so.

As if her thoughts had called to him, he appeared. He held a long roll of paper under one arm, and in his other hand, a fan.

“Your fan, my lady.” He presented it with a flourish.

Rose opened the delicate item made from ivory Chantilly lace painted with pink rosebuds. She turned it in her hand, admiring it. “It’s so pretty. Whose is it?”

“Yours. Mr. Middaugh expanded his section of ladies’ accessories.”

She shook her head, amazed. He’d just gone out and purchased an expensive fan, and without her even asking for one. “You went all the way to the store?”

“The store is only a block away, and I have long legs, which I assume you’ve noticed.” His suggestive smile set loose a flurry of wings in her stomach.

She couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping past his red and gold brocade vest to the creased black trousers concealing what she knew to be two very long, very nice legs. He’d draped one over hers at some point the previous night. She’d been tempted to invite him to snuggle even closer. Her mouth grew dry as the fluttery sensations moved lower.

A soft cough broke the trance.

Rose jerked the fan to her heated face. “Thank you, it’s perfect.”

“Does this make me a
bene-cove
?

She stopped fanning and peered over the top. “Where did you hear that?”

He sat beside her and laid the rolled paper across his knees. “Last night, when you said, ‘be a bene cove, love, and open the window.’”

Had she said it in her sleep? She didn’t remember.

Rose gave him a cheeky smile. “Not just a
bene-cove
, a good man, I’d say you’re a
benen-cove
, a better man.”

“Better, eh? My competitive nature won’t settle for anything less than the best. I’ll have to keep trying.” He joked with her, in part. Based on what he’d revealed about his childhood, he had never felt as though he could please anyone, yet he obviously craved affirmation.

Her heart yearned to give him all that, and more. But she couldn’t force him to love her.

“Just be you,” she said softly. “That’s good enough for me.”

His gaze hung on hers, searching, questioning. Did he doubt her? He didn’t have to dote on her or spoil her; all he had to do was love her. This, though, seemed to be the one thing he wasn’t willing to give, or he simply didn’t have the same feelings for her as she had for him.

She touched the fan to his arm. “Would you go outside with me? I’m in need of some fresh air after being stuck in bed for a week.”

“Gladly...after I return. I have an appointment with Mr. Hardt first.”

“Oh, dear. What has he done now?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. I’ve been working on diagrams for a mine.” He tapped the rolled paper on his knee. “And have come up with a plan. Hopefully, Mr. Hardt will agree to make introductions, and I can interest the railroad investors in purchasing our land.”

“Ah.” Rose drew the fan through her fingers to hide the tremble. “You still wish to sell.”

“To the right buyers. We’ll have more than enough, then, to live on.”

Her spirits lifted. He did plan to take her. She longed for that more than anything, but not if he couldn’t love her.  “Go on then, talk to Mr. Hardt, and when you come back, we’ll go for a walk.”

Val stood and tucked the paper under his arm again. “Better yet, I’ll bring a buggy around and take you for a ride.”

She stretched out one leg, and with a smile drew back her skirt to reveal an ankle. “Oh, I’d prefer to walk. I have two very long legs, as I’m sure you’ve noticed...”

***

V
al drummed his fingers on his knees as he sat in the chair across from the railroad agent’s desk while Hardt examined his drawings. He started to reach for his pocket watch, and then thought better of it. That would make him appear too anxious.

He let his mind drift to the previous moments with Rose. She’d shown him a pretty ankle, with that saucy smile. He’d considered tossing the drawing aside, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her upstairs. But then, as now, he’d forced himself to exercise patience.

Once he was certain her injury had healed, he would find a private place where he could properly seduce his wife. Or she could seduce him. He’d be fine with that, too.

Hardt sat back with a straight face. “Why are you showing me these drawings?”

He was joking, right? Or he didn’t understand what he was looking at.

Val came out of the chair, leaned over and propped his hand on the desk. He pointed to a sketch he’d made of the type of mines he’d recommend, based on the likely quantity of coal beneath the ground. “Here is where to sink shafts. This shows the placement of room-and-pillar sections. That’s what these rectangles represent. It’s a better process for mining the maximum amount of coal. I’ve estimated what might be produced in the first year, based on how soon the mine could be in operation, given the appropriate level of investment. A crew could be pulling coal out of the first section within a month.”

The railroad agent glanced down at the drawings, and then he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “How is your wife feeling?”

“Much better, thank you.”

“Have you made any plans about what you’ll do?”

Val tensed. What was he implying?  “I’ll be taking Rose with me,” he said unequivocally.

The gleam in Hardt’s eyes might’ve been amusement in someone with a sense of humor. “That’s good to hear.”

“Now that we’ve established Rose’s marital status, what are your thoughts about the mine?”

“We’re in the business of running a railroad, not a mine.”

Val searched Hardt’s enigmatic expression. Perhaps the agent thought feigning disinterest would result in a lower price for the property. “The railroad uses coal...a great deal of it. You could operate a mine and pay less for fuel. I’ve done the survey, checked samples. There’s a very large deposit, no telling how deep it goes until you get down there, but I’d wager you’ll pull out thousands of tons, if not millions, before the mine is exhausted.”

“How do you know so much about coal mining, Mr. Valentine?”

“My grandfather owned mines in Northumberland. Coal was the source of our family’s wealth. I’ve made it my business to learn what I could.” He didn’t add that he’d hoped to take over management of his family’s concerns. He’d squandered that chance. But he wanted to repay his father for what the Baron had spent to bail him and his younger brother out of trouble. He would speak to Rose, although he already knew what she would say. She had the most generous heart of anyone he’d ever known.

“Will you make introductions to the railroad owners?” Val stated his purpose, growing tired of waiting for Hardt to figure out what he wanted do.

Hardt stood and walked to the door, retrieving his hat from a rack.

Confused, and a little more than annoyed, Val frowned. “Are you tired of this conversation, or have I offended you—beyond punching you in the face?”

The railroad agent turned as he secured his hat. “Neither. I understand why you hit me, and I might’ve done the same, had I walked in on a man holding hands with my wife—if I had a wife. I’m putting on another hat.”

“Another hat?”

“Set aside for a moment the fact that I’m with the railroad. Assume I’m someone who’s interested in helping you and your wife. Do you have an uncle?”

An uncle?
This meeting had taken a bizarre twist. However, Val played along. He had no idea where Hardt was going, but it would become clear at some point. Hopefully.

“Yes. He and I despise each other.”

Hardt propped his hip on the corner of his desk and crossed his arms. “All right, just go along with me, here. I’m not speaking to you as a representative of the railroad. I’m speaking to you as Ross Hardt.”

Whoever that man might be.

Val sank into his chair. Whatever Hardt had to say, he would hear him out. He owed him that much. “Very well.”

“This town, this country, needs men like you. Educated, with good judgment, integrity, courage, in short, gentlemen.”