"Oh.” Her shaky laugh drove the arrow deeper into his conscience. “We both know it wasn't the least bit your fault. Although I did wonder—” She broke off, turning her face away as color flamed into her cheeks.
Intrigued and more than a little alarmed, Christian prompted, “You wondered what?"
She twisted her hands in her lap, fiddling with the tips of her gloves. “I was referring to the moment before Willis interrupted us."
Christian remembered very well. It was the exact moment when he took the necklace while pretending to unbutton her dress. Actually, if he was truthful to himself, he had intended to continue the pleasant task after he pocketed the pearls.
Damn Willis, anyway.
Hardening his heart, he said, “Don't you think I would have noticed? That one of us would have noticed if they had fallen at that time?” Rosalyn's blush deepened, telling its own tale. Christian had to concede she might have a point there. Would he have noticed if the situation had been different?
Probably not.
"Just to ease my mind, would you ask the driver to keep a look out for Willis?"
Confident that Willis wouldn't spill the beans with a generous amount of Christian's money in his pocket, Christian nodded. It was difficult to ignore such a prettily voiced request, and a harmless one at that. Plus, it would allow him time to mention her ‘nest egg’ once again.
At his signal, the carriage rolled to a stop and Christian stepped out to tell the driver to be on the look-out for Willis. With a skillful slip of his hand, Christian gave Michael a little incentive for keeping his mouth shut.
Michael shrugged, understanding the unspoken request. He pocketed the extra money with a cheerful nod.
They met up with Willis a scant quarter of an hour later while circling the park. Christian followed Rosalyn as she hurried to the other carriage. She quickly searched the floor—thank the Lord it was empty of passengers—the seat, and even the cracks along the door while he waited patiently for her to finish the search.
She found nothing, of course. Christian half expected more tears, but in this he was wrong. Rosalyn squared her shoulders and thanked Willis in a calm, controlled voice before marching back to the carriage.
"Where to now?” he asked after they were settled in the carriage once again.
With the look of a lamb going to slaughter, Rosalyn said, “Back to Miss Howland's house, please. I can't put it off any longer.” Her voice dipped to a husky whisper. “She's expecting the pearls this morning."
Christian gave Michael her instructions, before turning to study Rosalyn. She looked composed, but he suspected she was on the brink of shattering. Taking pity, he decided it was time to end the game.
Yet he hesitated, knowing their time together would be over the moment he told her who he was. No more Rosalyn. No more laughing eyes and gaped-tooth smiles that squeezed his gut into a burning fire of desire. Once she found out he was Christian Garret, a man she loathed, she would turn her pretty nose up much like Miss Tamera Brandewine.
"I—"
"You—"
They both started to speak, then stopped.
Christian said, “I'm sorry, go ahead."
"No—you first."
"I insist.” Christian welcomed any delay in saying what he had to say. He wasn't eager to watch that pretty passion in her eyes turn to disgust and loathing.
"I was going to say, if Miss Howland is speaking to me after I tell her the terrible news, then I should offer her the valentine like you suggested."
Christian froze, staring at her for a long moment in complete confusion. Finally, he pulled his tongue from the roof of his mouth, convinced he was hearing things. “Funny, I thought you said ‘valentine'.” And how in the hell did he get valentine out of ruby necklace?
Rosalyn tilted her head, her expression one of concern. “Chris, are you all right? You look pale..."
"What,” Christian croaked, “are you talking about?"
"Why, my nest egg, you know."
"No, I don't know.” He leaned forward and gripped her arms, bringing her alarmed face close to his own. “Care to explain what you mean by valentine?” And this time, when she flicked a nervous tongue over her lips, Christian did not look. The silly word, ‘valentine’ kept ringing in his ears. Why did that word keep haunting him? He gave her a little shake.
She frowned, a glimmer of fear brightening her eyes. “It's a special valentine, a first edition Esther Howland Valentine that Callie gave me. It's—it's really quite valuable, you see."
Christian grit his teeth, watching her flinch at the sound. “No, I do not see. You will explain.” He shook her again, and this time the fear turned into full-fledged alarm.
"I think,” she began in a low, unsteady voice, “that you are quite insane."
With a wrenching of her upper body, she twisted free and opened the carriage door before Christian realized what she was about.
Stunned, he watched her plow through the snow and disappear inside the three-story house as if the very devil was in pursuit.
He hadn't realized the carriage had stopped.
With a loud and savage oath, he hit the roof of the carriage with his fist. Damn, damn damn! “Move on,” he shouted to Michael.
What the hell was she talking about? A special valentine? A valuable valentine? An original, first edition valentine?
And she thought him insane?
Where were the damned rubies?
* * * *
Christian returned to the hotel and paced the sitting room, stopping often to smack his fist into his open palm and curse aloud.
Just because there was no mention of the rubies didn't mean she didn't have them, he assured himself. Maybe she'd caught on to his game, and was at this moment laughing herself silly over her ridiculous statement about a valuable valentine.
His jaw hardened at the thought. Damn her, she would not get away with making a fool out of him—
She could be innocent.
No. Christian shook his head and glared out his second story window at the crowd of people trotting up and down the street, turning the pristine white snow to an ugly brown mush. If Rosalyn told the truth and her nest egg consisted of a collector's item valentine, then he was back where he started.
Back to wondering where the damn rubies could have gotten to. Hell, if Rosalyn didn't have them—a possibility only—and Callie didn't sell them and Mr. Toombs didn't steal them, where could they be? His grandmother wouldn't accept his explanation that the family heirloom disappeared into thin air.
And neither would he.
Damn Rosalyn! It would have been so simple if she was the one who had them. Simple to take them back from her after he had her eating out of his hand.
She was almost there. Or at least, she had been until he frightened her by losing his temper. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the frosted window, watching as a giant icicle broke loose from the roof above and crashed to the boardwalk below.
Hell fire, after all this time, waiting for the right opportunity to recover the jewels ... and now they couldn't be found.
Christian sighed, coming to the reluctant conclusion that he would have to return the pearls to Rosalyn. It wouldn't be fair to her, otherwise, and the only reason he had taken them in the first place was to have something to bargain with.
How swiftly his plan failed.
Collecting his coat and hat, Christian prepared to go out once again. He would make a stop at the telegraph office and wire his grandmother, let her know he still searched for the necklace and that he would be extending his stay in Worcester. After that, he needed to find Willis and ask for a favor.
Maybe he should stop at the bank before he found Willis. Favors cost money.
* * * *
"A-are you sure, Rosalyn? You've looked everywhere—"
Rosalyn nodded miserably. “Everywhere that I could. The snow...” Oh, she couldn't go on! Miss Howland took the news bravely, but Rosalyn suspected she was deeply shocked.
After a breakfast Rosalyn couldn't touch, she had quietly asked her employer for a moment of her time. They had adjourned in the downstairs parlor before a toasty fire and Rosalyn blurted out the truth before she lost her courage.
Esther Howland stared into the fire for a long, uncomfortable moment. Rosalyn braced herself, fully expecting to be dismissed—from her job and her home. She staunchly told herself she wouldn't blame Miss Howland, not at all.
She blinked burning tears from her eyes and worried her hands until they tingled. “I'm so sorry, Miss Howland. I—I know that isn't adequate compensation for you loss, and there's no way I can replace such a priceless heritage—"
"You can't."
"Pardon?"
Esther took a deep breath and turned her tear-filled gaze on Rosalyn. “I said you can't replace it."
Rosalyn shriveled inside. Tears spilled over and she made no move to wipe them away. She wanted Miss Howland to know how much her horrible deed grieved her. “I'm s-sorry,” she whispered again.
"But it's not your fault, my dear."
"W-what?” Rosalyn nearly fell off the edge of the chair. Something was wrong with her hearing...
"It's not your fault."
"Oh, but it is, you see—"
"No, it isn't.” Miss Howland lifted her chin. “I pressed you to wear them. You said as plain as day that you didn't want to, that you were afraid you'd lose them."
"True, but I did lose them!” She couldn't let Miss Howland take the blame, she just couldn't. Why, the idea was ridiculous. “I lost them and I'm going to make it up to you,” Rosalyn repeated firmly. She reached for the flat box at her feet. “I've got something to give you, I know it isn't the pearls, but—"
Miss Howland shook her head, her expression kind. “No, dear, you don't have to do that—oh! It's Callie's valentine!” Her earlier depression vanished as Rosalyn held the box closer for Miss Howland's inspection. The older woman's childlike joy made her smile through her tears. Maybe it would be all right, and surely Callie would forgive her. Surely Callie would understand why she had to give the valentine she'd sworn to cherish and keep to Esther Howland. After all, the two women had been close friends.
With hands that trembled, Esther lifted the jewel-encrusted valentine from the box and laid it reverently on her lap. She stared at it for a moment. Finally, she looked at Rosalyn and Rosalyn recognized the reminiscent look in the older woman's eyes.
"Henry loved her, you know."
"Yes,” Rosalyn whispered huskily, “I did know. Callie told me."
"When he gave her these rubies, she was too afraid to wear them, afraid she'd lose them."
For a brief moment, their gazes locked and Rosalyn knew Esther was remembering the pearls, just as she was. Her stomach tightened with self-loathing. How could she? How could she have been so careless?
Miss Howland looked away first, returning her glowing gaze to the valentine on her lap. She traced a finger along the lush red rubies attached to the outside of the elaborate, elegant valentine. The oval pattern of the ruby jewels ringed the mother jewel, a heart-shaped ruby centered in the middle of the card.
Rosalyn knew every intricate curve and twirl in the paper lace, every glitter and glitz. She had also memorized each one of the ten flowery valentine verses inside the card, penned on whisper-thin sheets of paper imported from England and attached to the card itself.
"Henry eventually gave up trying to get her to wear the rubies as a necklace. He told her countless times if she lost them he would buy her more, but Callie couldn't risk it. I'll never forget that day he came to me, all flushed and excited—a week before Valentine's Day."
Rosalyn knew the story from Callie, but she kept silent, watching the quiet elegance of Miss Howland's face as she spoke. She sensed the other woman needed to talk about it.
"He was like a little boy at Christmas, so proud of his brilliant idea to make the necklace into a valentine for Callie.” Esther laughed softly. “'This way,’ he said, ‘Callie can take it out and look at it all she wants. She doesn't have to feel guilty for not wearing it, because she can't wear a valentine, now can she?’”
"Was—was this your first valentine?” Rosalyn asked in a hushed tone.
Miss Howland laughed again. “Lord, no! I'd been in business for a few years at the time. But I can tell you, it was the most expensive one I've ever constructed! It made me a little nervous working with jewels this valuable. Henry came several times a day to check on my progress, and laughed at my silly discomfort."
"So it is valuable?” Callie had said it was, but Rosalyn wanted reassurance. It could never replace the Mayflower pearls, but if it could come close, maybe Rosalyn could forgive herself.
Someday.
"Of course it is, my dear.” To Rosalyn's surprise, the older woman blushed. “And at the risk of sounding conceited, this is the best I've ever done. The card itself may someday have a certain value even without the rubies, if properly cared for."
"That's why I want you to have it,” Rosalyn announced.
"Oh, no—I couldn't—"
"Yes, you can and you will. I know it can't replace the pearls and I'll hate myself forever over losing them, but—"
"No, no, no! I won't take them, and you will stop this talk about blaming yourself!"
Rosalyn stared open-mouthed at her employer. Miss Howland had shouted at her! “But, you don't understand—"
"Of course I do, dear! I know you feel badly about this whole mess, Rosy—but I can't let you give me this valentine."
"Why not?"
"Because—” Esther shook her head impatiently “—because Callie wanted you to have it, and Callie was my friend, too. Friendship means more to me than any ole’ piece of jewelry! Now, what kind of friend would I be if I took this legacy from you?” Before Rosalyn could form an answer, Esther rushed on, “Why, I wouldn't be a friend at all. So you hush with all this nonsense, and put this away. The pearls are gone and that's that. Besides, there's still a chance some good soul might return them."
Rosalyn took the valentine from Miss Howland, her mind dazed with all she'd said. “You mean, you're not going to fire me?"
"Certainly not!” Miss Howland laughed, not a trace of her former gloominess in sight. “Why would I do a silly thing like that? You're the company mascot."
Still, Rosalyn couldn't believe her luck. “Does this mean.... I can stay here?"
"Yes, it does."
Just as Rosalyn was about to throw herself at Miss Howland's feet and howl her gratitude, the door knocker sounded.
Miss Howland frowned. “It's early for callers."
With a racing heart, Rosalyn followed Miss Howland to the door. What if it was Chris? Should she introduce them if it was? What would Miss Howland say?
To her astonishment, a solemn-faced Willis stood on the porch. Relieved to discover she wouldn't have to explain Chris to Miss Howland, it took a moment before Rosalyn wondered why the cabbie would be calling on them. The wide grin that split his face gave her a clue.
With rising excitement, she rushed forward. “Willis! What brings you here? Is it ... oh my God, is it the pearls?” Beside her, Miss Howland gasped and held a hand to her chest. Both women waited breathlessly for his answer.
"As a matter of fact, Miss Mitchell, I did find something in my cab. Under the rug—you didn't look there?"
Rosalyn clapped a hand to her brow, trying to remember. Oh, what did it matter? “Did you find them?” she demanded, bouncing in place.
"It's rude to keep a lady in suspense, sir.” Miss Howland began to glower.
Willis relented, producing the pearls with a flourish.
"Oh, gracious Lord, you did find them!” Rosalyn snatched them out of his hand and jiggled the necklace beneath Miss Howland's nose, nearly squealing her delight. “Look, look, he found them!"
"So I see."
"Aren't they beautiful?"
"Yes, they are."
Rosalyn looked up from her jubilant contempl
ation of the pearls to find Miss Howland smiling indulgently at her. With a grin, Rosalyn flew at Willis and smacked a kiss soundly on his cheek. He blushed and clamped his hat back onto his head.
"Well, I'd best get going."
But Rosalyn wasn't finished with him. “No! Wait. I want to give you a reward for returning them—"
"No, Miss, I couldn't accept no reward.” Willis was very adamant, shaking his head and backing away. “I didn't do nothin’ the next honest man wouldn't."
"But, someone else might not have...” Rosalyn trailed away as Miss Howland put a restraining hand on her arm.
"Thank you, Willis. We'll be forever in your debt."
"My pleasure, Miss Howland.” Willis tipped his hat in Rosalyn's direction, adding a cheerful grin. “Miss Mitchell. Can I give you a ride in to work this morning?"
"Certainly.” Rosalyn fetched her coat, gloves, and hat from the coat closet off the main hallway, humming as she went. She couldn't believe her good fortune.
Willis had found the pearls! She couldn't wait to tell—
No. She couldn't tell Chris, because she wouldn't be seeing him again. Frowning, she pulled on her gloves and struggled into her coat. He had acted so odd this morning, almost as if ... as if he were angry with her for mentioning Callie's valentine.
Which was nonsense, of course. He was probably upset with her for losing the pearls, and thinking how very careless she was.
Yes, that was it. What else could it be?
Well, it didn't matter, because she'd made her decision. He was much too sophisticated for the likes of her, and she couldn't behave herself around him. Tying the hat ribbon beneath her chin, Rosalyn told herself the tears in her eyes had nothing to do with not seeing Chris Brown again. They were there because she was happy to find the pearls.
Anyway, after this morning, she doubted his sanity, as well as her own. It seemed each of their meetings convinced her more and more that she shouldn't see him.
But she loved him, truly loved him. If only he loved her.
With a last, bewildered shake of her head, she made her way to the front hall where Miss Howland stood chatting with Willis.
Somehow, she was going to get over the handsome New Yorker, and not a moment too soon.
My Valentine Page 10