Rose realized she was holding her breath only when she released it as the elevator came to halt and the young lady lifted the bar, pushed aside the accordion grating, and then opened the wooden door.
Wandering along the carpeted hallway, Rose found the room easily enough but hesitated at the door. Her pulse raced at seeing Finn for the first time since their incredible escapade. Knocking once, twice, Rose didn’t make it to thrice as the door swung inward. Stepping swiftly across the threshold, she turned to see an absolute stranger, who immediately closed the door behind her and locked it.
Terror clutched at Rose’s throat like an itchy scarf tied too tightly, and her fear was heightened by the extreme calmness of her captor.
The man had both hands in his pockets and leaned against the door as if this were the most casual and normal of circumstances.
“So you are Rose Malloy?” he said, looking her up and down almost insolently.
She swallowed and tried to hear properly past the loud beating of her heart that resounded in her ears.
“You have me at a disadvantage, for I know not who you are.”
“I’m not sure I shall tell you” he said. “I’m not sure it will matter.”
Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins. Rose couldn’t imagine what his intent was, but then, she also couldn’t believe how utterly stupid she had been to ensnare herself in this dreadful situation. Yet another dreadful situation!
She glanced around. There was little to see except highly polished hotel furnishings, a couple well-tufted chairs, and a bed. It had no sitting room though a door, no doubt, led to an en suite bathing room, as the hotel was known for its luxury and comforts.
Women had few defenses, and Rose knew them all. First, bluffing.
“Apparently, you have no manners, and as such, I am leaving.” She took a step toward the door and the man. Unfortunately, he didn’t move. Instead, he smiled a scary little grin and crossed his arms.
She halted and backed up, walking toward the two spacious windows. She looked down, so very far down, to the busy street below. Scollay Square and her brother’s offices were a mere few blocks down. So close, but Reed may as well have been in France for all the good it did her.
Escape was her next option although . . .
“I don’t believe you’d survive the fall,” the man said. “Maybe we’ll find out shortly.”
She shuddered. Bastard. Toying with her.
Breathing deeply, she considered what to do. Nothing had happened yet. She would keep her wits about her, her next defense, and hopefully wouldn’t have to resort to violence.
“So you know who I am,” Rose said, stalling for time, “and you’ve been following me obviously. You put an unsigned note in my carriage. Why did you think I would come?”
“You tell me.”
“Because you knew I’d think the note was from someone else. Moreover, there’s really only one person who might send me such a note and to whom I might go without question. And that person has very few friends or acquaintances.”
The high cheekbones of her captors’ face flushed a ruddy color. She was on the right path. After all, this had to be about Finn. William had been right on that count — all the danger in her life seemed to lead back to her husband. This man was too young to be the missing overseer of Kelly’s yard. So that left—
Rose bit her tongue. Should she let on that she knew who he was, or would that put her in more danger? Liam Berne wouldn’t need to kill her if he thought she couldn’t identify him, would he?
“Why did you want to meet with me?” she asked, as if still in the dark as to his identity.
At last, he pushed away from the door.
“I want to know why Master Builder Gilbert is being detained in the city jail. I want to know if Mr. Dilbey is also being held. I want to know what has happened to Mr. Walsh.”
She only knew the first name for certain, but thought the last one was the missing overseer of the yard where Finn had worked. The man had fled, as far as she knew. Still, Rose said nothing.
“Well?”
She blinked. “I think you should be asking the city police. How would I know anything about any of those people?”
Liam’s tone grew harsher. “Because Finn has come back to even the score, and you are Finn’s wife.”
“We are divorcing,” Rose said bluntly, though it was odious to have to speak to a stranger about such a private matter. “In any case, I don’t understand why bringing me here will help you get your answers. Why do you care what befalls these men?”
His face transformed into a sneer. “It’s no matter to you, is it, why I care? But I’ll tell you. Because I don’t want whatever’s happening to everyone else to happen to me. I did nothing wrong.”
She nearly gave away her game of ignorance by telling him it was wrong to get rich off of dead men, but again, she held her tongue.
“I cannot help you, sir. I know nothing you don’t already know, and I haven’t seen Phineas Bennet of late.”
“Is that so?” He ran a hand around the back of his neck and shrugged as if in discomfort. “I hope to hell you’re lying because I want him to know that I’m not going to disappear, nor am I going to prison. Not for doing as I was told. Not for staying alive.”
Rose pursed her lips. Liam Berne was starting to sound deranged in his tenor if not his words, and his agitation was clear on his face.
“Again, I must ask why you wanted to meet with me. I cannot help you.”
“You must,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Finn will listen to you, won’t he? It’s as if all those souls have come back embodied by his person. I can imagine them all crying out for justice, urging him to it, but I have done nothing wrong, I tell you.”
“If that is so, then why don’t you simply go to the police and tell them what you know. Tell them who it was who took you off the ship’s manifest. Tell them who put your name on the insurance policy.”
Even as Rose finished speaking, she realized her mistake.
Liam’s eyes seemed to catch fire as he came even closer, causing her to back against the windows.
“You do know who I am, don’t you?”
She shook her head.
“Yes, you do. I’m Finn’s old friend, not that he believes me. You’re going to help me make him understand. I didn’t want to die then, and I don’t want to go to prison now. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course,” Rose told him. The man must have gone insane with guilt — or with fear, perhaps — though as far as she knew, he had not hurt anyone himself. “What do you want me to do?”
There was a rap at the door, or had she imagined it?
Liam showed no indication of hearing anything.
“You’ll help me then?” he asked, looking almost relieved.
Rose strained to hear another knock. Could the person on the other side of the door hear them? Perhaps it was a hotel maid.
“Help,” she called out, her focus entirely on gaining someone’s attention.
Another rap at the door, then the handle rattled.
“Rose!” Against all odds, incredibly, Finn was in the hallway.
At the same time, Liam took hold of her by her upper arms.
“If he won’t listen to me, then we’ll make a fair swap. My life for yours.”
She gasped. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll let you live, if he lets me live. Do you see?”
She nodded. Yes, she saw clearly that Liam Berne was mad as a March hare, as her mother would say. In other words, becoming quite unhinged.
“Help,” she cried out again.
“It’s too late,” Liam said. “Too late for both of us, I suppose.”
While keeping her pressed against the sill and imprisoned by his body, Liam leaned around her to slide the window sash up.
Rose felt the breeze off the harbor as it whistled past the hotel, lifting the hair at her neck and tugging at her pinned hat.
Plunge backward to her
death? No, thank you.
As terrified desperation seeped over her bringing the prickle of perspiration to her skin and a rapid pounding in her chest, she resorted to a female’s final defense. She brought her knee up as hard as she could into Liam’s private parts.
Instantly he crumpled upon her, and she did it again with even more force. He nearly unbalanced her off the sill and out the window as he dropped to his knees, groaning in pain. At the same time, the door splintered open, and Finn hurled into the room, nearly falling over from the force of his entry.
His face, as he took in the scene, was one of confusion at seeing Liam already taken down.
Rose battled with the still existing urge to run screaming from the room or to lash out physically at whatever was in her path. Instead, she took a deep, calming breath and tried to clear the spots from her vision. Then she stepped over Liam where he lay sprawled and still groaning, and went directly into Finn’s arms.
He hugged her tightly, and she reveled in the moments of relief, which were almost as exhilarating as the moments of terror. Then Rose pulled away.
No need to fall to pieces now. She was fine and, after all, she had dispensed with this threat quite capably by herself.
“Are you unharmed?” Finn asked.
“Quite. I believe this man is nearly a lunatic,” she said calmly, as Finn looked from her to Liam. “He is clearly a danger to himself as well as to others.”
Looking down, she straightened her jacket and adjusted her hat. “I’ll ask the concierge to call the police while you guard him.” She started for the door.
“Rose,” Finn said, halting her steps.
Turning, she locked her gaze upon his. Everything around them forgotten, as the moment seemed suspended in the what-if and if-only notions that had made up their entire relationship. Then one of them yielded — she thought it was Finn — for he nodded as if in understanding.
With that, Rose walked out of the room, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. After speaking with a flummoxed concierge, she decided not to wait for the police. Instead, she left the hotel and the last vestiges of the dangerous mess behind her. Thinking it too late to catch Reed at his desk, Rose took herself home.
***
As usual, Reed had seen to the loose ends. She’d called him minutes after stepping in her own front door, and her brother told her he would not let her spend another evening answering questions at Boston District 3 headquarters. He would go in her place and help Finn if he needed it.
When her brother stopped by after breakfast the next day to escort Rose to give a deposition, he looked hesitant.
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked him on the way to the station in his carriage.
“I’m not sure how you’ll take this, given all you’ve been through.”
It was not like Reed to hedge rather than speak his mind.
“Please tell me,” Rose asked.
“Bennet was waiting outside my office when I got there this morning. He signed the divorce papers.”
Her brother’s soft-spoken tone belied the life-changing event.
Rose stared straight ahead — too many thoughts and emotions whirling inside of her to give voice to any one of them.
All that remained was a judge’s decree. It came swiftly a week later, thanks to Reed’s urging. At last, she was entirely free.
Chapter Thirty-One
“I cannot believe you haven’t spoken to him yet,” Claire stated. “It’s been weeks. Aren’t you beyond curious to know how he ended up bursting down that door?”
Frankly, Rose was curious, but she was also sick of focusing on Finn. Not to mention tired of the black cloud that hung over everything to do with the two of them.
“I would far rather talk about how things are going with you and Franklin,” she declared.
Claire immediately took on that wondrous glow that overcame her visage whenever she discussed her fiancé. However, as Rose’s mind wandered to the proper length of time for setting up custard, she caught only the tail end of her friend’s words.
“. . . and that’s why I always thought he was right for you. You can’t fight the pull of first love, especially not one of that magnitude.”
Rose had to shake the thoughts of cooking out of her brain. “What are we talking about?”
“About Finn and you, of course, and how he shaped your entire idea of what love is.”
“Claire, dear heart, I want to stop talking about Finn and me. There is no ‘Finn and me’ in any case.”
“Balderdash!”
Rose rolled her eyes. After signing the agreement in Reed’s office, Finn had disappeared and made no attempt to contact her. Nor she, him. What’s more, she had felt no compunction to do so. The long obsession with the man, as if he were in her blood and somehow coursing through her veins, was over.
William was still on the Continent. Finn was God knew where. And Rose was living quite happily alone after her mother had married and moved out the week before.
“I am utterly content,” she assured Claire.
“Balderdash,” she repeated. “You are the same woman with needs and wants and a heart, aren’t you? You have been kissed, and you want to be kissed again, don’t you?”
Rose smiled. She’d done a good deal more than kissing. And yes, she would very much like to experience some of that “more” again. At that particular moment, however, she simply didn’t feel compelled to be with a man — Finn or anyone else. She enjoyed dining with her friends and family. Moreover, she enjoyed her own company. Most of all, she liked doing whatever pleased her and answering to no one for the first time in her life.
Maybe when the newness of that freedom wore off, she’d start thinking of making an association with a man once again. Meanwhile, she had acquired an adorable cat and named her Cocoa, for the puss had rich sable fur that reminded Rose of that delicious hot beverage.
She tapped her chin. “You know something, I really don’t think that Maeve will ever suit Robert.”
The two girls laughed uproariously.
“I agree. What were we thinking?”
“While Franklin is perfect for you, I believe Robert needs—”
“You,” Claire suggested. “If you won’t let me speak of you and Finn, how about you and Robert?”
That wiped the smile off Rose’s face. Could her friend be serious?
After everything, would Claire still wish Rose upon her brother? How generous! How absurd! Moreover, would her friend be insulted by Rose’s complete adversity to such an idea?
“Dearest,” she began, “you know I love you dearly and have a fondness for Robert, since we practically grew up together, but I see him as a brother.”
“A dull stick of a brother,” Claire added, mirth shining in her eyes.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Rose said, sighing. “Truly, I thought you were serious.”
“No, I cannot imagine the right woman for my brother,” Claire said, “if one exists. You on the other hand—”
Rose held up her hand. “Here we go again.”
“Well, I do think you have made two wonderful matches,” Claire pointed out. “I am only sorry that neither of them brought you the lifelong happiness I wish for you.”
William would have, Rose was certain, if only he had not fled from the mess that she had created, needing the soothing balm of thousands of miles of distance between them. He hadn’t accepted the return of his ring, nor could she wear it, so it remained in its navy box in the back of her handkerchief drawer.
Finn could have. His very presence had made her happy. If only he hadn’t let her grieve for him so long that grief, itself, still overshadowed everything else when she thought of him. Though admittedly, that had eased rather significantly with all they had experienced since he’d returned.
“I think it is up to me to bring my own happiness to my life.”
Claire took her hand. “You are correct, of course.”
Still, her friend sounded unconvin
ced.
Rose smiled. “Did I tell you about Miss Farmer’s new idea?”
“A new way to cook beef?” Claire asked, pretending to yawn. “Are we braising, roasting, or wrapping it in pastry? Perhaps we’re running it up a flagpole and letting the sun cook it.”
Rose laughed. “I know, I know. I’ve bored you with every recipe I’ve tried, every nuance of spice, and each chopping and slicing technique I’ve learned. This is different.”
Claire cocked her pretty head. “I’m joking, you know that. Do tell.”
“I’m going to help her open her own school. I will be the assistant principal. We’re going to do all sorts of new things, like show women how to put on a wedding reception. There will be lectures, too, morning and evening.”
Her friend clapped her hands. “How exciting! I can perfectly imagine you showing people how to do the things you’ve learned. Miss Farmer is lucky to have you.”
“Previously, I would have worried what Mama thought. Yet times are changing, and now that she knows I’ve been married, nearly widowed, and divorced, I find she treats me more as a grown up. And adult women can be anything they want to be in this day and age.”
“True,” Claire agreed. Then she frowned. “I hope it’s all right that I don’t really want to do more than I am already doing. I simply want to be Franklin’s wife and have his children, and keep a good home for all of us.”
Rose hugged her. “I think that’s perfectly acceptable. I hope you will come into my new school, though, and listen to a lecture on nutritious meals.”
Claire reached over to lift the lid of a Randall’s chocolate box and popped one in her mouth. “Of course!”
***
Rose’s solitude and being left to her own devices could not last, not with a mother, a brother, and a sister all within a few miles of her. They stopped in to make sure she was fine, safe, well fed, even warm enough on the first chilly evening of autumn. Any excuse to interrupt her new routine of cooking school, lectures, testing recipes, reading, and futile cat grooming.
An Inconceivable Deception Page 33