Rose had seen the piece before her marriage to Charles, when he’d brought her to the house to show her where she’d live. The settee had rested in an unused parlor high in the house, given pride of place under wide window and flanked by tall, ebony and gilt candelabras.
After the wedding, Rose had been caught up in preparations for her new life and then Charles’s death. She’d never noticed the settee had gone from the house, hadn’t much thought about it until now.
It had been placed out here for mice to nest in, it seemed, and for the wood to be split and ruined by damp. Only the inlay had survived, though it was covered in dirt and muck. Steven scraped at the patterns with his gloved fingers to reveal more gold.
“Someone painted over that,” Steven said. “What a bizarre thing to do.”
“Maybe hiding its worth?” Rose suggested. “Not that sitting out here for a year and a half hasn’t destroyed it. Why would Charles do such a thing? Or did the servants lug it away by mistake?”
Steven stepped back to survey the room and the settee’s position in it. “No, this was set here on purpose, buried under a pile of useless junk. Charles hid it, love.”
“But why would he?” Rose took the stick from the dog, who’d brought it back to her. He sat down and looked at Rose expectantly, so she tossed it for him again. “And why would he draw the rose on the back of the sketch? Not to mention hiding the sketches in the cabinet?”
“He was saving them for you,” Steven suggested. “He must have changed his will at the same time, to add you to it and leave you the furniture.”
“But he didn’t know he was going to die so soon,” Rose said. “How could he?”
Steven came to stand next to her, his warmth cutting the chill. “Maybe he did, love. Doctors might not have told him his heart would give out, but maybe he knew, deep down inside. Perhaps he didn’t expect it to happen as quickly as it did, but he must have known he’d have to leave you to Albert’s mercy.”
Tears stung her eyes. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
Steven slid his arm around her, pulling her close. “A man doesn’t like to confess weakness to a lady, especially not one he loves. Trust me on this.”
“Poor Charles,” Rose said. Her heart ached for him.
She knew now, after these few days with Steven, that while she’d loved Charles, she’d loved him in a different way than she did Steven. Charles had been kindness, comfort, caring. Steven was passion, excitement, offering her a world behind her narrow confines. Steven was a man who felt deeply, never mind that he covered it up with joking, self-deprecation, and drink.
Steven held Rose close, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. He had such strength, such warmth, a pillar more solid than the columns of this summerhouse for her to lean on. Charles was like this ruined place—Rose’s past. Steven was whole and new—Rose’s life now. And her future? She couldn’t know.
Steven kissed Rose gently on the lips and wiped a tear from her face. “Whatever reason he stashed it out here, Charles wanted you to have this,” Steven said. “Let’s shift it, and get back to our cozy hotel.”
***
Rose helped Steven push the old furniture aside to release the settee. Its once bright seat cushion was a tattered mess, stuffing from nearly a hundred years ago hanging out of it in gray threads. Even the mice had abandoned it.
The dog tried to help, digging at the loose marble tiles around it. Finally Rose and Steven had cleared a path that allowed them to drag the settee to the door and out to the summerhouse’s porch.
Rain was falling steadily, coming on gusts of wind that spattered heavy droplets across the steps. Steven shoved the settee to the leeward side of the porch and dusted off his hands.
“I’ll go back to the house and tell Albert he is going to lend us transport,” he said. He looked out between the trees to the windswept garden beyond. “You can wait here, out of the rain, at least, though it’s bloody cold.”
“I’m resilient,” Rose said. “And I have a dog.”
Steven went to Rose and took her hands. It was never cold where he was—when Rose had woken this morning wrapped around him, she’d never been so happy.
“You are the most courageous woman I’ve ever had the fortune to know,” Steven said. “Thank you, Rose.”
She stared up at him. “For what?”
“For teaching me what courage means.” Steven leaned to her, his breath brushing her lips before he kissed her.
The kiss held all the heat of their loving night, and the light of new day.
Rose pulled Steven close, savoring him. If she had nothing else, she’d remember this, the two of them private in the cold, and the intimacy of waking up next to him in his bed. These were memories she’d hold to her for the rest of her life.
Steven flashed her a grin as he straightened up. “I’ll run all the way.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And then we’ll feast on hot tea and whiskey.”
His smile could change her world. Rose clung to his hands another moment, then she gave a little laugh and let him go.
Rose watched Steven dodge his way through the trees, his head down against the wind. He truly did run, moving so fast his wind-whipped greatcoat and kilt exposed his strong thighs.
Rose kept her gaze on him until the trees obscured him, then she shivered and moved back into the relative shelter of the summerhouse. The dog whined after Steven, but turned and entered the summerhouse with Rose.
Rose stood in the middle of the rotunda, looking over the wreck of the furniture, the dog warm against her legs. “If I had a match, I could built us a nice roaring fire,” she said, patting the dog’s side. He waged his tail and gazed up at her, his vitality coming through her gloved hands.
“Then I’d have the constables on you.” Albert’s voice floating in before his body blocked the open doorway. “When your paramour comes back for you, you go and stay out of my sight. I never want to see you here again, or I will have you arrested for trespass.”
Chapter Thirteen
Albert glared at her, the dim light sparkling on his blue eyes. He glared at the dog as well, who shrank into Rose’s side.
“I hadn’t intended to return after this,” Rose said, keeping her voice even. “I will take what Charles wished me to have, and go.”
Albert didn’t move. “It’s criminal you should have anything at all.”