Silent Night, Sinful Night Page 25

  Necklace in hand, part of her tried once again to convince herself to take it and be gone by morning. But somehow, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t do that to the only man who had ever showed her caring and trust.

  Loyalty and, dare she think it . . . love . . . had been just concepts in storybooks. But now, this Christmas, she understood them. Understood how they could make you do things you never thought possible. She’d never thought twice about Christmas before, never even liked the holidays because she never appreciated why everybody was so falsely happy all around her. To her, Christmas had only ever been a time of year where it was easier to make others believe her stories. But suddenly nothing seemed as easy—or important—as it used to be.

  But what motivated her wasn’t just her feelings for Winston. It was Lady Ponsonby herself and what Rosie thought might be a glimpse into her own future. She thought she empathized with Lady Ponsonby now. She could be sweet but was also a lonely and jaded woman. Her husband had a substantial fortune and gave her an easy life, but he was mean and never there for her. They lived separate lives, and Lady Ponsonby sought to make her life more bearable any way she could, even if that meant cheating on her husband just to not feel so alone for a little while.

  Rosie had been taught not to let people close, but seeing how Lady Ponsonby’s life had turned out, she wondered if she was going to be as unhappy one day. Money, of course, made you comfortable. But what did you do all by yourself after that?

  If she betrayed Winston now, she’d very likely throw away her only chance to be free of the instability of her life. And also possibly to be truly happy. If she walked away, she might end up as Lady Ponsonby, alone in her gilded cage, or worse, alone in jail for her thievery.

  Rosie came to the end of the hall where it intersected with the wing her room was in. She stopped. A turn to the right led to her own room—and her packed bags. Straight ahead led to Lady Ponsonby’s.

  She almost laughed at herself. She was both literally and figuratively at a crossroads.

  She could either choose to give Winston and the unknown new world he offered a chance, or go with what she knew, what she was comfortable with. But now she knew that with the latter, she could end up being another shallow, vain, and lonely shell like so many others who yearn for hedonistic, temporary distractions to ease their loneliness. That made the world she knew much less attractive than it had once been. Damn that man for turning her life so topsy-turvy she wasn’t sure which way was up.

  A thought struck her almost like lightning. The lamp shook in her hand and she swayed on her feet. For the first time, she realized that all the money in the world couldn’t buy her what Winston offered so freely. Love, real safety, and peace of mind had no price really, did they?

  It wasn’t just because he made her feel special and he tried so hard to make this Christmas good for her. It was everything about him. His loyalty to his mother and his independent spirit, how his strength made her feel small but cared for and safe in his arms.

  Rosie looked straight ahead. Then she continued toward Lady Ponsonby’s suite.

  She was going to give love a chance. She had faith in Winston, trusted him, and wanted to learn to have faith in other people, too. Even though she was scared to death, she was ready to try and see where their love might lead them. She was going to fight to have the man of her dreams, who loved and adored her. And, because she couldn’t shake everything about her old life just yet, a man who gave her stability with his wealth as well.

  This Christmas was already very special for her, and all because Winston showed her how different it could be. She wanted to give him something back to show her willingness to let go of the past and try to have faith in him and others.

  Yet when she reached Lady Ponsonby’s door, she hesitated. A last bit of doubt crept in, and she fought the urge to turn and run or just slip in silently, leave the necklace, and go.

  Rosie took a deep breath and quietly knocked. She’d wondered if maybe the lady wasn’t alone, but no quick scurrying at her knock could be heard. She knocked one more time, and without waiting for an answer, she entered the rooms.

  “Lady Ponsonby, are you awake?”

  The window was open to the bright moonlight. Rosie heard rustling and then saw the woman trying to sit up. “Yes? What . . . Who’s there?”

  “It’s Beatrice Latimer.” Rosie moved closer to the bed as the older woman sat up. “Sorry to disturb you, but I must speak to you for a moment.”

  “Dear girl, what is it? What are you doing here?” She got out of bed and put on her dressing gown, then sat back down on the bed.

  Rosie set the lamp on the bedside table. “I have something for you.”

  “Yes? What is it?” Lady Ponsonby slid over on the bed and patted the mattress for Rosie.

  She sat gingerly on the bed with her feet dangling off the side and handed the older lady the velvet bag. Lady Ponsonby opened the bag and looked in, then looked at Rosie, not quite believing what she saw. Looking back down, she pulled the necklace from the bag. “Oh, dear girl, thank you so much! Where on earth did you find it?”

  Rosie wasn’t sure how to explain it, but for once decided to try the truth and see where it took her. “It was found in the main study under the cushions of the windowsill. The one by the bookshelf when you first walk into the room.”

  “Oh.” Lady Ponsonby bowed her head and let the necklace fall back into the bag. The bag fell onto the bed. “And since you’re bringing it back in the dead of night, I suppose you know how it got there.”

  Rosie touched the other woman’s knee lightly. These were the kinds of problems the truth could cause. She never wanted her to think she was being accusing or judgmental. Telling the truth correctly was something she was going to have to work on. “I do, but only because I was there to do much the same thing. You’ll find no stones coming from this glass house.”

  Lady Ponsonby looked up with a small smile and placed her hand over Rosie’s. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

  “There is something else.” Rosie pulled her hand back and reached into her pocket for the ring that matched the ruby necklace.

  Funny, Rosie thought. It had been one of the first truly valuable things she’d taken when she’d first started in the business. She guessed that was why she’d kept it. She must have taken it from Lady Ponsonby personally, since she’d mentioned she’d been the one to lose it. But Rosie hadn’t recognized Lady Ponsonby at all.

  It almost seemed like fate had intervened to have the first and last thing she’d stolen—or tried to steal—be part of the same set and returned together.

  She pulled out the ring. Lady Ponsonby recognized it right away. “What . . . where . . . where on earth did you get this?”

  “I’ve had it for quite a long time. I don’t remember from where, but when I saw the necklace, I knew it might be part of the same set.”

  Lady Ponsonby blinked in astonishment. “Yes, they were made for my husband’s grandmother along with the matching earrings and a bracelet. In her later years, she’d taken to wearing pink wigs and quit wearing the ruby jewelry because she thought they clashed with her hair. She gave them to me as a wedding gift.”

  Lady Ponsonby shrugged and laughed. “Those wigs where as horrible as she was and looked atrocious with her skin tone.”

  They both laughed so hard that Lady Ponsonby had to dab tears from the corners of her eyes. At least Rosie thought they were from laughing.

  “You know what,” the older lady said, giving the ring back and closing Rosie’s fingers over it. “You’ve had it for so long. It’s yours now.”

  “To be honest”—Rosie opened her hand again and held the ring out to Lady Ponsonby—“I was hoping you’d say something like that, because I was wondering if perhaps there is any way you might want to buy it back?”

  “Buy it back? Is there something you need money for?” She looked very worried then. “Oh, has the man you were meeting done something dishono
rable?”

  In fact he had, many times. Rosie had enjoyed those things very much. But that truth wouldn’t help anyone. “No, no. Nothing like that. There is just a special Christmas gift I was hoping to buy.”

  A very sly, conspiratorial smile showed on the other woman’s face in the lamplight. “For Winston?”

  “Yes.” She knew just what she wanted to get him to show him how she felt.

  It had been a hell of a morning. When Winston woke and she wasn’t there and neither was the necklace, he thought the worst and was devastated. All morning he’d wavered between hating her for doing this to him, hating himself for falling for it all, and holding out hope that some way, somehow there was an explanation.

  But now it was almost afternoon, and any hope he’d had in the morning was all but gone. He’d spent several hours with a painted-on, brittle smile when sitting in his mother’s morning room to help with preparations for the rest of the holiday.

  He’d promised his mother he’d come by this morning, but sitting in one room talking about New Year’s and Twelfth Night was the last thing he wanted to be doing. He more than welcomed the distraction when Lady Ponsonby walked into the room. He hoped she was here to speak to his mother, and he started to rise, but she waved him back to his seat.

  “Here you are, Mr. Matthews! Dolores, I hope you won’t mind if I have a short word with your son?”

  Unfortunately for Winston, with her usual perfect grace, his mother agreed. “Of course, Isabel.” She patted Winston’s hand. “I think we’re done here anyway.”

  Winston stood, bowed to his mother, and led the other woman from the room and down the hall to the main staircase.

  “Lady Ponsonby, is there something you needed?” To be honest, she was the last person he wanted to see. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but still she played a significant role in the drama that was Rosie’s world. But again he reminded himself that Rosie’s life wasn’t very different at all from the one he’d led. Dangerous, unpredictable, but with money to be made. They were well matched, and that made him want her all that much more.

  “Mr. Matthews . . . I, well . . . I just wanted to . . .” It was obvious this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

  “Yes, what is it?” The minute the words were out, he knew his tone had been too harsh. But he’d lost his patience along with everything else. “Forgive me, Lady Ponsonby. It’s just been a bit of a morning.”

  They’d reached the top of the stairs and stopped. “I just wanted to thank you for whatever part you may have played in the safe return of my jewelry.”

  “Think nothing of it.” He wasn’t paying attention at all and was already starting to walk away when he realized what she’d said. “Excuse me, what was that?”

  She hesitated and seemed unsure of how to phrase her words. “The ruby necklace was found and returned, and I just wanted to thank everyone who might have had a hand in its return.”

  He had a sudden urge to hug the older woman, to throw her into the air and let out a hoot that would bring the roof down. Rosie hadn’t left him; she’d done the right thing! As it was, he tried his best not to smile and simply said, “I can only say that if I did have a hand in it, it was my pleasure.”

  She gave him a sly smile of her own and a curtsy before she turned and walked away. And even with his heart drumming in his ears, he could have sworn he heard her say, “I can just bet it was.”

  He spent the rest of the day searching for Rosie. First, he checked her room and discovered most of her things still there. He could not fathom how he could have been such a fool. He could have spared himself almost a whole day of grief if he’d just checked there first thing. He promised himself he would never immediately think the worst of her again.

  But he still needed to find her. There was so much he needed to tell her, so much he wanted to plan with her. He wanted far more than just the holiday together. Another week or so wasn’t enough time for everything he wanted. He wouldn’t stay in his father’s house any longer than he had to, but wherever he went, he wanted her there. Making love on a rolling sea had an appeal that couldn’t be found anywhere else, and he couldn’t wait to introduce her to its special brand of delights.

  He looked in the gardens, including both mazes and even the kitchen garden with no luck. Back in the house, he checked the main sunroom, the music conservatory, the library, the long gallery, and a half dozen other places.

  Now he was beginning to worry that something bad had happened. Maybe she’d been exposed as an imposter or maybe someone she’d cheated had finally tracked her down. One thing was for sure: They both had pasts that could cause problems for their futures. But whatever they might be, Winston was prepared to handle them. If only he could find her.

  He was getting desperate. He even contemplated knocking on the study door and asking his father if she was there or if he’d seen her. His father had approached her the night before. Maybe he suspected something. But when he stopped his father’s secretary on his way into the study, the man assured him his father was in with his solicitor and they had been the only occupants all day.

  On his way to find Lady Ponsonby again to ask her if she knew where Rosie might be, he was waylaid by some of the other male guests.

  “Matthews!” Lord Rutterford slapped him heartily on the back. “We’ve hardly seen you all week. Where have you been hiding yourself?” It was clear by the way he swayed ever so slightly on his feet that they’d already abided in some liquid merriment.

  “I’ve been catching up on family things, running errands for Mother. If you’ll excuse me—”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” Mr. Anderson chimed in. “We have you now, my boy. Can’t say no to a guest during the holidays. You must be our fourth for some cards.”

  Lord Rutterford and Viscount Wingate both nodded and hummed in absolute agreement.

  His mind was too preoccupied to find an excuse, and he had no choice but to join them. “Of course, gentlemen, lead the way.”

  He spent a miserable tea time loosing at cards, distracted by everyone who entered the room and every shadow that passed by the doorway or the open windows.

  There was still no sign of Rosie by the time he’d left to dress for dinner and no sign of her as he stood against the same railing where he’d taken her to watch the merriment of yet another holiday dance in the ballroom below. He smoothed his hands against the polished wood and remembered how she’d looked, how she’d felt....

  Where the hell was she? He was about to leave to check the dining room where the dinner buffet had been laid out when he felt someone behind him.

  “The music seems even livelier tonight, doesn’t it?”

  His intention when he turned was to make sure she knew how angry he was. He wanted to punish her for all the anguish and worry, the miserable drunken card game, and everything else he’d been through all day. He meant to demand she tell him where she’d been and make her swear never to do that again.

  But he didn’t. When he faced her, all those thoughts were gone. Rosie radiated pure, unadulterated loveliness. She wore a pewter satin gown over a claret-red silk petticoat. The way she held her hands behind her back emphasized her soft breasts pillowing above her stomacher, which was decorated with clusters of embroidered poinsettias with pearl centers. Her hair was a perfect pile of curls, and she beamed with happiness.

  There was no power on earth that could make him say anything to take that happiness away. “Is there music playing? Everything else, even the music, seems dulled to almost nothing when compared to your beauty.”

  “Ah, spoken like a man who knows how to charm every woman he meets.” It didn’t seem possible, but her smile was even brighter now.

  “Not every woman, just you. Only you.”

  “I think I like the sound of that.”

  That was very good, because Winston didn’t think he was ever going to want another woman again. “You’d better get used to it. I don’t intend to let you go for quite some time.” He didn
’t want to say forever just yet; he didn’t want to scare her off.

  “Planning to keep me close to keep everyone else safe from my designs on all their treasures?” Her voice was soft and teasing, but he knew she wanted assurances, and he was more than happy to give them.

  He moved toward her and placed his hands around her waist, pulling her close. He took a deep breath of her sweet bergamot scent. His heart careened and he kissed her neck. “To hell with anyone else. My motives are purely selfish and, truth be told, slightly obscene at the moment.”

  “Do tell, Mr. Matthews.”

  He felt her pulse quicken beneath his lips.

  “I can do better than that.” He tried to close what little space was left between them, but she pulled back.

  “No, wait. I have something for you first.”

  She took a step back and revealed a small package wrapped in green paper with a gold ribbon that she’d hidden behind her back. She looked so proud of the gift she was giving that Winston’s hands shook at the honor of receiving it. He carefully pulled the ribbon loose and opened the paper.

  “It’s the compass from the mercantile shop.” That’s where she must have been. She’d gone to town on her own to buy a Christmas gift for him to surprise him. “I can’t believe you even noticed it when we were there. Rosie, did you? I mean, I hope you didn’t.”

  She laughed and rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be silly. Of course I didn’t! I even paid full price. I didn’t even try to negotiate or anything.”

  It was beautiful. The compass was made of the best-quality polished brass, cherrywood, and beveled glass. She’d been very generous. “Rosie . . . I . . . there is something you need to know. If you think all this will be mine someday, it won’t. When I first arrived, my father made it quite clear I was cut off completely. It was only on my mother’s urging that he ever let me stay.”

  He thought she’d be shocked, angry, or at least pull back to discuss it, but she hardly even acknowledged it. “I am very glad he let you stay. My holiday would not have been merry at all without you.”