Black Rose - NRoberts - G2 Black Rose

“I can go through this, and the others, later. Myself.”

“No, let’s do it now. It’s my legacy, after all. See what you can find, will you? I’m going down to make coffee.”

When she came back, she noted he’d gotten his reading glasses. He looked like a rumpled scholar, she thought, pulling an all-nighter. Shirtless, jeans unbuttoned, hair mussed.

That same tenderness floated over her, like a balm over the ache in her heart.

“I’m glad you were here when I found this.” She set the tray down, then leaned over, kissed the top of his head. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“There’s more.” He reached up for her hands. “Do you want me to summarize?”

“No, read her words. I want to hear her words.”

“There’s snippets here and there, her thoughts on this worked into daily entries. Her humiliation and the rage under it. She made him pay in the only way she knew, by spending his money lavishly, by shutting him out of her bed, taking trips.”

“A stronger woman would have thumbed her nose,” she said, pouring coffee, “taken her children and left him. But she didn’t.”

“No, she didn’t. Times were different for women then.”

“The times may have been different, but right’s still right.”

She set down his coffee, and this time sat beside him. “Read it, Mitch. I want to know.”

“He brought the bastard home, with some trollop of a wet nurse he brought in from one of his country holdings. Not the mother, he says, who remains in the house in town where he keeps her. He has his son at last, a squalling thing wrapped in a blanket. I did not look at it, and will not. I know only that he has paid the doctor to keep him quiet, and that I am required to continue to remain in the house, receiving no callers for another few days.

“He has brought this thing home in the dead of night, so the servants will believe I delivered it. Or will pretend to believe it. He has named it. Reginald Edward Harper, Jr.”

“My grandfather,” Roz murmured. “Poor little boy. He grew to be a fine man. A kind of miracle, I suppose, given his beginnings. Is there anything on his mother?”

“Not in this book, though I’ll go through it more carefully.”

“There will be more, in one of the other journals. She died here, Amelia did. At some point Beatrice must have seen or spoken with her, or dealt with her in some way.”

“I’ll start looking now.”

“No.” Tired, she rubbed at her eyes. “No, there’s a wedding today. Today is for joy and fresh starts, not for grief and old secrets. We know enough for today.”

“Rosalind, this in no way changes who you are.”

“No, it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t. But it makes me think, that for people like this . . . for people like Reginald and Beatrice, marriage was a practicality. Social standing, breeding, family backgrounds. Maybe there was some affection, or some attraction, but at its core, it was business. The business of maintaining families at a certain level. And children were just tools to accomplish that. How sad for them, and how tragic for the children. But today . . .”

She drew a deep breath. “Today we’re seeing it shouldn’t be that way. We’re going to watch two people who love each other make promises, make a marriage, cement a family. I’m glad you’re here, Mitch, and I’m glad we found this today. Because this wedding is just what I need now.”

IT WAS THEperfect day for it, tailor-made with candy-blue skies and balmy air scented with flowers. The gardens Logan and Stella had made bloomed in a lovely array of color and shape.

There were chairs set up on the lawn, covered with pale peach drapes and forming an aisle where Stella would walk on her father’s arm, toward Logan and her sons.

Roz turned from the window to watch Jolene fuss with the flowers in Stella’s hair.

“You make a picture,” she said. “Both of you.”

“I’m going to start crying again.” Jolene waved a hand in front of her face. “I can’t count how many times I’ve repaired my makeup. I’m going to run out just for a minute, honey, check on your daddy.”

“Okay.” Stella waited until Jolene scurried out. “I was going to be mad and upset that my mother refused to come. Too much trouble to make the trip—not like it’s my first time—and she wasn’t going to sit around in the same space as that woman, which she continues to call Jolene even after all these years.”

“Her loss, isn’t it?”

“It is—and my gain, really. It’s Jolene I want today anyway. And you, and Hayley.” Stella lifted her hand to touch the sapphires in her ears. “They’re so perfect.”

“They do the trick. Look at you.” Feeling a little misty herself, Roz stepped closer to study her friend.

The dress was simple, a pale, pale blue with narrow straps, a straight bodice and a long skirt with a slight bell. There were two dahlias pinned in her curling red hair. One white, one blue. And her face was luminous, as a bride’s was meant to be.

“I feel absolutely beautiful.”

“You should. You are. I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m not nervous anymore, not even a little jump in the belly.” Stella pressed a hand to it as she blinked tears back. “I think about Kevin, my first wedding, the years we had together, the children we made together. And I know, in my heart, I know he’s okay with this. Logan’s a good man.”

“A very good man.”

“I made him wait almost a year.” She let out a laughing breath. “Time’s up. Roz, thank you for all you’ve done.”

“You’re welcome. Ready to get married?”

“I’m absolutely ready.”

It was sweet, Roz thought, and it was lovely. The man and woman, the young boys, coming together in the gardens of the home they’d share. Logan, big and strong and handsome in his suit, Stella, bright and beautiful in her bride dress, and the children grinning even when Logan kissed the bride.

The guests broke into spontaneous applause as Logan swept Stella off her feet and spun her in a circle. And Harper topped off the moment by popping the first bottle of champagne.

“I don’t know when I’ve seen a happier couple,” Mitch commented, and tapped his glass to Roz’s. “Or a prettier family. You do good work.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s like a family tree. These two come from one of your branches. May not be blood, but it comes to the same. It’s their connection to you that brought them together. They did the rest, but the connection started it.”

“That’s a nice thought. I’ll take it.” She lifted her glass, sipped. “There’s something I want to talk to you about a little later. I wanted to wait to bring it up until after Stella had her day. A wedding day, by rights, belongs to the bride.”

“What’s it about?”

“I guess you could say it’s about connections.” She rose on her toes to kiss him. “We’ll talk about it after we go home. Fact is, I’ve got to run back real quick. With all this commotion I forgot the special bottle of champagne I have back home for the bride and groom and their wedding night.”

“I can run get it.”

“No, it’ll be quicker if I do. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

As she got to the car, she stopped as Hayley called her.

“Roz! Hold up. Is it okay if we ride with you?” A little breathless, she stopped at the car with a crying Lily in her arms. “I’ve got a cranky girl here, needs a little nap. But she won’t go down. Car ride’ll do the trick. We can take mine, it has the car seat.”

“Sure. It’s going to be a quick run, though.”

“That’s all right.” She walked to her own car, battled an objecting Lily into the seat. “Rides always calm her down, and if she goes to sleep, I can just sit out here with her until she wakes up. Then we’ll both have a better time at the party.”