Rose Gardner's Florist

by Dee, Bonnie

  When she turned to look up at him, he saw in her eyes her decision was already made. “You make a good point, but we do not yet live in that world. I believe we may remain friends, but that is all.”

  He could tell there was no point in arguing further. Not at this moment, at any rate. Perhaps, given time, she would reconsider.

  “If this is to be the end of our romance, might I kiss you once more before we leave?” he asked.

  She bit her lip before nodding.

  Will cupped her cheek, so smooth and warm, and bent to press his mouth to hers. Her lips were as soft as the petals of her namesake. He lingered, savoring her taste and the slight puff of her breath against his upper lip. A breeze swept through the trees, making the branches tremble and the leaves rustle.

  The melancholy feeling of life passing by swept through him like the wind. He could not hold onto one second of time, or to this woman, any more than he could stop the wind. Soon enough, Rose would shy away from even friendship, and Will would have only a memory of having once experienced love.

  They did not speak on the walk back to the house, or on the trip to the city. Will stared at the road ahead, any words he would say would only repeat what had already been uttered.

  Seeming lost in thought, Rose watched the passing scenery. Will wondered how was it possible to go from lovemaking to this distressing distance in less than an hour?

  As he stopped the auto in front of Rose’s shop, a mounting sense of dread filled him.

  She looked at the dashboard rather than directly at him. “I had a lovely time, William. It was a perfect summer afternoon, and I will always cherish our private moments together. But truly it will be for the best to end our growing affection before our hearts become too involved.”

  Too late.

  “To place some distance between us, I think it best you finish the conservatory project without my help. I believe it would be too difficult to remain friends only. Do you understand my reservations?”

  “I do,” he replied. And they mean nothing to me. I would marry you this instant if I believed you would say yes.

  He would make that bold declaration if he believed she would agree, but Rose had made her wishes clear. Not so long ago, Will had counseled Guy to slow his pursuit of Hattie, respecting her decision and giving her an opportunity to perhaps change her mind. How facile that advice had been! It was a great deal harder to follow.

  Pressuring Rose would be selfish now when she had clearly told him what she wanted. He had to bite his lip to keep from blurting his feelings and desire.

  “I am truly sorry for encouraging you in ways I shouldn’t have,” Rose continued. “Hurting you was never my intention.” She turned away, but not before he saw tears glistening in her eyes.

  Before Will could come around to open her door, Rose was outside the vehicle, across the pavement, and entering her shop.

  He watched her with dull despair. Things were going so well. What happened? his heart demanded.

  But he had no answer to give it.

  *

  One could wallow in bed and while away days in mourning with the drapes drawn. Or one could get up, throw open the window, inhale a draught of fresh air and try to accomplish something. Will brooded for most of the following day before electing to follow the better course. After all, Rose had not entirely cut him from her life. He must learn to be content with her friendship. He’d prove his resolve by continuing to aide her with the Sweet matter.

  Detective Rumsfeld had left a message while Will was out the previous day and apparently already had news to share. Will arranged an appointment by telephone then headed toward the man’s office with purpose. One could not fight an enemy without knowing all about him. It was paramount to learn as much as possible concerning Edward Merker and his connection to the Sweet family. Why had there been no relatives to take her in? And how had he gained custody of their daughter?

  Rumsfield’s secretary ushered Will into the detective’s messy, shabby office. Will hoped the chap’s mind was more organized than his workspace. But Hardy swore by him, so Will settled onto a lumpy chair and waited to learn what the old man with the bulldog demeanor had uncovered.

  Rumsfield sat puffing on a cigar and glaring at some paperwork. He removed the stub from between his teeth, dispensed with a polite greeting and cut straight to the point. “Don’t know what the young woman’s told you about her history. Her father, Sir Phillip Sweet, was minor gentry and the last of his line. No relatives to cluck about it when he married an Italian woman, Carlotta D’Arenzo. I couldn’t learn anything about her family. He brought her to England, the couple married and had a child. When their daughter was eight, Sir Phillip and his wife both died within days of each other from a severe bout of diphtheria. Sweet’s will left both fortune and daughter to his business administrator Edward Merker.”

  “An employee. Had the couple no close friends better suited to raising a child?” Will shooed away a wisp of smoke that stung his eyes.

  “Perhaps Merker was the closest friend Sweet had,” Rumsfield pointed out. “The arrangement was unusual, but the will appeared to be in order and the child properly looked after.”

  “So that’s it, then? He will continue to control her and her inheritance until she comes of age.”

  “There may be grounds to question the validity of the will. Seems convenient the man had access to all of his employer’s documents, property deeds, bank accounts, etc., and plenty of opportunity to practice his signature.”

  “You believe the will may have been forged.”

  “Wouldn’t doubt it, but probably can’t prove it. The fellow apparently increased her holdings and met Miss Sweet’s needs—education and so on. Won’t be easy to knock down a fellow like that in court.”

  “Even if he is attempting to force his ward into marrying him? Her protest against the arrangement should be enough to earn the interest of the law.”

  “Law isn’t much interested in what a girl says,” Rumsfield replied bluntly. “If she’s found, she’ll be returned to Merker’s custody and he’ll likely browbeat her into doing his will. Best thing would be for Miss Sweet to disappear until she’s reached majority then claim what’s hers.”

  “Meanwhile, he’ll find a way to divert her money so she can’t get at it. She’ll be left with nothing,” Will mused. “Why wouldn’t the man have done that sooner if all he wanted was wealth?”

  Rumsfield tamped out his cigar, which had filled the room with a smoky haze. “My guess, he wants to claim her as well. I’ve dealt with this sort in my line of work. They like the control and sense of power over a person. He wants the game to go on. If he gets his hands on her, he’ll keep them around her throat for the rest of her life or as long as he’s able.”

  “Then he must be stopped at all costs!” Will bolted up, too outraged to remain seated. “With these details, I shall have Jennings draft a lawsuit on her behalf as soon as possible.”

  Rumsfield nodded curtly. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  “No. Thank you for your swift work, sir. Hardy was correct in his assessment of your skill.”

  The grizzled detective accepted the compliment as his due, sending William on his way with a simple “Good day” before returning his attention to other work.

  Will left the office with Miss Sweet’s situation uppermost in his mind, and only a portion still dwelling on Rose. He couldn’t help but think of her since it was directly to her place of business that he went.

  As he entered the busy shop, Rose was serving one customer, while her assistant wrapped a funeral arrangement at the register. Will grabbed a pot of African violets and headed toward her.

  Miss Sweet’s eyes widened at the sight of him. “Mr. Carmody!”

  When her customer had walked away, he lowered his voice to speak. “Miss Sweet, I have news to share. Perhaps we might speak privately?”

  “I hate to leave Miss Gardener with so many customers.”

  Will glanced arou
nd. “There are too many eyes that might observe. It may be unsafe for you here.”

  Rose joined them and immediately his body began to hum. That would not do, particularly if she noted his reaction. Will schooled his expression to politeness and nothing more. “I spoke with Rumsfield, who feels Merker may have forged the will, and that Miss Sweet is in a dangerous position. He suggests she go into hiding while Jennings presses a suit against the villain.”

  Miss Sweet frowned. “I’ve already decided I cannot remain here on Miss Gardener’s good graces if I am of no use to her.”

  “Never mind that,” Rose said. “It is more important you remain safe. We have been far too cavalier placing you in the public eye.”

  “Might I suggest my house? It is large, with several unused guest rooms. Miss Sweet would be safe there. My staff would remain discreet, I promise. I will have a room prepared for tonight.”

  “I scarcely know what to—” Miss Sweet fell silent as a customer bearing a pot of golden mums approached.

  “This topic is better discussed in private. Shall I wait in back?” Will murmured.

  Rose shook her head. “Miss Sweet and I will talk over the matter and telephone you. Meanwhile, go forward as you have planned.”

  Will nodded. He met Rose’s gaze at last and the wall of reserve he had constructed began to crumble. How could he see her without his heart falling into pieces? Remaining friends would be a nearly insurmountable task for him.

  But perhaps not for her. Rose’s expression held gratitude and nothing more.

  And so, as much as he wanted to pull her into the privacy of the work room and kiss her senseless, he could and would maintain a steady platonic course.

  Friends. Comrades. Chums, he reminded himself as he exited the shop and set off about his business of championing Miss Sweet’s cause.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I am not at all certain this is necessary.” Candace fastened the valise Rose had lent her which contained several ready-made dresses she had bought since Rose’s gowns were too tight on her. “Mr. Carmody seems very kind, but I do not know him at all and stopping at his house is inappropriate. It could cause great damage to my case, suggesting I lack moral sense.”

  Rose had her own doubts about this course of action, but would not tell the already nervous Candace. She rested her hands on her friend’s shoulders and gave her a steadying look. “I believe Mr. Carmody is trustworthy. You may have already been spotted here due to our carelessness. You will be better protected with him while the solicitor lodges your complaint.”

  Candace bit her lower lip and traced the faded flower pattern on the valise. “I am afraid,” she admitted. “It was difficult enough to come to you, a stranger, for aid. I can never thank you enough for inviting me into your home and making my troubles your own.”

  “If you are utterly set against it, you may stay, of course,” Rose offered. “I have enjoyed your company and would not wish you to feel as if you have no choice in the matter. You absolutely do. As for bringing trouble, what are friends for if not to share each other’s burdens?”

  “I wish I could continue to help you in the back. There are all those arrangements for the Women’s Parliament to prepare soon. Too much work for you alone.” Candace drew a breath. “But Mr. Hardy is right about my drawing attention here. I imagine policemen coming for me in the middle of a work day. Such a scandal might ruin your shop, so I will go.”

  Rose would have assured her that a scandal was the last thing on her mind, but she did not wish to sway Candace’s mind in the opposite direction. Will’s home would be a much better shelter. His wealth and privilege could go far in keeping Candace safe.

  The sound of a motorcar stopping on the street below announced Will had arrived to retrieve Candace. The two women hurried downstairs to meet him.

  Rose gave her friend a comforting embrace. “All will be well.” Then she went to open the door, heart beating far too quickly. She couldn’t fool herself into thinking it was due to the drama of Candace leaving. Her anxiety had everything to do with seeing Will again.

  When he’d come to the shop today, she’d managed to suppress any emotion, but it wasn’t easy. The sight of Will standing there at the counter had drawn her like a magnet. The worst part was that she knew he would take her back. All she had to do was tell him so and they could be together. Doing what she felt was right for both of them was hard! She wished she could forget about their impossible future and seize the moment.

  But Gram had taught her that putting off bills for another day would only make a person miserable and poor. Gram was where Rose had learned good business sense, and the woman’s wisdom had not steered her wrong so far.

  With a sigh, she assembled her face into neutral politeness and opened the door to Will’s knock.

  Two men in dark suits, the bills of their caps shading their faces, stood in the shadows of the alley. Freezing water coursed through her veins at the sight of them.

  “Miss Rose Gardener?” the taller one asked.

  “I am.” At least she sounded calm even if her heart was beating an exit from her chest.

  “You have a guest staying with you. Miss Candace Sweet.”

  “I have never heard the name before. I have no visitors here.” She drew a breath. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I was about to go out and you are blocking my way.”

  They crowded closer, one of them inserting a booted foot in the door so she couldn’t slam it shut.

  “Cut the malarkey, Miss Gardener.” The second man might not tower over Rose like his partner, but his heavyset body and pugnacious stance suggested a boxer. He was short, tough, and loud. “A Good Samaritan spotted the girl and told the authorities. That’s us. We saw her today. You’re lucky we didn’t make a scene in front of your customers. Now it’s time for us to take the girl home.”

  “You’re the authorities? Do you represent Scotland Yard? Have the police sent you? Please show me some form of identification.” Rose listened for any sound from behind her, and prayed Candace had made her way upstairs to hide.

  “Mr. Merker hired us to find his ward,” the tall man said. “That’s about enough of your questions, Miss. Let us do our duty.”

  The stocky fellow pushed Rose out of their way, slamming her body against the open door. He pinned her there, while his partner entered the room.

  The agent approached Candace, who stood near the worktable with the valise clutched in her fist. “Now, Miss Sweet, no need to worry. We’re here to take you home.” He held his hands open to show he bore no weapon. “Come along now. Your dear uncle is waiting for you.”

  “He’s not my uncle, and I will not come with you,” she snapped.

  As the man reached out for her, Candace swung the heavy valise so it hit his chest and kept him at bay.

  Rose fought to free herself from the boxer’s hand holding her pressed against the door. She could not pry his fingers from just below her throat, but her legs were free. She brought up one knee sharply into his privates. The fellow gave a howl and let go of her to reach for his groin.

  Bent over, his head was right at the height of her elbow. Rose jabbed him hard with the point of her elbow and ran across the room to aide Candace. On the way, she snatched up the first thing in her path she might possibly use as a weapon—a bucket of flowers.

  She heaved its contents toward the man reaching for her friend. A shower of cold water and cattails rained down on him. That slowed him down enough for Candace to slip away if she would.

  “Run, Candace!” Rose yelled. “Go now!”

  But the woman would not leave her. Instead, she bashed the tall agent a second time with her valise. The strength of her blow on his head drove him to his knees.

  “Trenton!” The man bellowed. “Grab her.”

  His partner rallied from the shot to his genitals and did as he was bid. He seized Candace from behind, pinning her arms to her sides so she couldn’t fit.

  As he dragged her toward the open do
or, his partner scrambled up and faced Rose.

  Before she could dart past him to aide Candace, he grabbed her arm with bruising force. Rose tried to scratch his face with her free hand but he was too tall. She screeched and bit at him, then kicked up with her knee but could made no contact this time.

  “Don’t make me hurt you. This is not your business,” he growled as he restrained her arms by binding her body close to his. “The girl’s going back where she belongs. If you know what’s best for you, you’ll let her go or face charges of kidnapping.”

  At his words, Candace immediately stopped struggling against her captor. “Leave Miss Gardener out of it. I was never kidnapped. She merely sheltered me when I came to her for help.”

  “Then you’re gonna want to make things easy for your friend, ain’t ya?” The short man took advantage of her stillness to remove a cloth from his pocket and clap it over her mouth and nose. Candace began to fight again, but he held her tight.

  Rose watched as her friend’s wide eyes above the handkerchief became unfocused, then closed. Candace’s body went limp and she sagged against the fellow. Chloroform.

  Rose renewed her struggle against the man who held her. She pushed so hard to break free that when he let her go, she pitched forward and fell on the floor. The tall agent gave a sharp kick to her ribs to make certain she stayed there.

  For a moment, Rose lost consciousness of anything but the sharp pain in her side and the whoosh of air driven from her lungs.

  When she looked up, the tall agent had lifted Candace’s unconscious body as if it weighed nothing and slung it over his shoulder.

  His partner stalked over to Rose. “This is for me bollocks, ya filthy twat.”

  The last thing Rose recalled was the toe of a boot coming toward her face.

  *

  When she awoke, her head throbbed so badly she could scarcely open her eyes, and someone was demanding she wake up. Desperate to sink back into the comfort of oblivion, she batted away the annoying voice.

  “Rose! Wake up. Are you all right?”