For the Roses

Chapter 19

Mary Rose spent the next day being poked and prodded and pinned. Dr. Thomas Wells and Dr. Harold Kendleton arrived at eleven o'clock in the morning and spent two full hours with her. The physical examination didn't take any time at all, and the rest of the time was spent interviewing her about her past.

She was happy to answer their questions, for she enjoyed talking about her family and her life back in Montana. She was proud of her brothers and wanted everyone to know how wonderful they were.

As soon as the doctors left her chamber, the dressmaker and three assistants hurried inside to begin work on her new wardrobe.

The doctors sought out Lord Elliott to give him their expert opinions. Mary Rose's father included his sisters and their husbands in the conference and thought to include Harrison a short time later.

Dr. Wells was a stout man with thick, gray whiskers. He rubbed them constantly while he spouted his opinion. Harrison found the man a bit too pompous. His know-it-all opinions were all wrong too.

The meeting took place inside the library on the second floor. Harrison came in just as Wells was explaining how important he believed it was to help Victoria make a smooth transition into her new life. Harrison shut the door behind him and then leaned against it with his arms folded across his chest.

"She mustn't be allowed to dwell on her past," he dictated. "Both Kendleton and I noticed how loyal she is to the men she stayed with. Why, she's actually accepted them as her brothers," he added with a nod. "We found it impossible to make her admit they weren't, in fact, related."

Dr. Kendleton nodded agreement. He squinted at his audience over his thick glasses. "I don't believe it's a good idea to let her talk about what happened to her. You must help her let it go. In time she'll forget, once she's settled in to her new life here. Your daughter is most intelligent, Lord Elliott. She shouldn't have any difficult finding her place here, and once she gets over this strange loyalty she feels toward those men, her adjustment will be complete."

Harrison listened to the experts and vehemently disagreed with every suggestion they made. Elliott, he noticed, was hanging on their every word. He was looking for guidance, but in Harrison 's estimation, he was listening to the wrong people.

He couldn't keep silent any longer. "Sir, why don't you talk to your daughter about your concerns? If you think she'll have difficulty adjusting to her life here, then ask her what you can do to help her."

"I've just been advised not to dredge up her past, Harrison. We all want to help her move forward, son. Didn't you hear her last night? She believes she'll stay here only a short while and then return to America. She does feel a tremendous loyalty to those four men." He addressed the last of his remarks to Dr. Wells. "You were right about that."

"You cannot undo what happened to her," Dr. Kendleton announced. "But with work and patience, your daughter will have a full, rewarding future."

Harrison was hard-pressed not to let his anger show. "Why do all of you believe she's been through some godawful ordeal? She wasn't a prisoner all those growing up years. She had a good life. She was given everything she needed, and she was certainly loved. You're making a grave mistake not letting her talk about her brothers, sir. They are her family. Of course she's loyal to them."

"We must listen to the experts," Lord Elliott insisted. "They know better than you or I how to help Victoria."

Harrison didn't know what more he could say to the man. He was astonished by his behavior. It wasn't like Elliott to ever be unsure of himself. He was usually a very disciplined, methodical man, and certainly reasonable. If he'd only think about it, he would see the rightness in accepting Mary Rose for what she was.

If the two of them had been alone, he would have asked him to tell him what he was afraid of.

Elliott must have guessed what Harrison was thinking, for he suddenly said, "I will not lose her, son. I will do whatever it takes to make her happy."

"We all want what's best for her," Lillian interjected.

Harrison let out a loud sigh. "What I want is for all of you to realize what a lovely young lady my wife is. She doesn't need to change. You can't erase her past, and if you listened to her talk about her growing up years, you would realize what a mistake it would be to try to make her pretend none of it happened."

"We don't want to change her," Barbara said. "We only want to broaden her education and her experiences."

Dr. Kendleton took the floor again to offer a few more suggestions for "handling" Victoria.

Harrison couldn't listen to any more of their drivel. Without a word, he left the library. He had an almost overwhelming urge to pack up his wife and take her back to Montana. The thought of anyone trying to improve upon perfection appalled him.

He decided to wait a few days before he had a talk with Lord Elliott. He would give the man time to get used to having his daughter around, then take him aside and remind him of something he'd obviously forgotten. A father's love should be unconditional. Mary Rose didn't need to change. She needed to be loved and accepted for who she was. Harrison fervently hoped Elliott would come to his senses soon and start being reasonable again.

He looked in on his wife, just to assure himself that she was all right. Mary Rose was standing on a footstool in the center of the bedroom with her arms out at her sides, while two women took her measurements. She was staring up at the ceiling and looking bored with all the fuss going on around her.

He whistled to get her attention. Lillian came hurrying past him just as he let out the shrill noise.

"My dear man, one doesn't whistle to get noticed. Where are your manners?"

" Harrison has wonderful manners," Mary Rose called out. "May I please get off this stool now? I wish to speak to my husband."

"No, dear, stay where you are," Lillian ordered. "You can talk to Harrison later. We have work to do."

"Sweetheart, I have to go back to London to pack up some papers. I'll be back by nightfall."

She wanted to go with him, but her request was refused by her Aunt Lillian.

"I wish to kiss Harrison goodbye," she announced.

"No, dear," Lillian replied.

Harrison ignored the aunt. He crossed the room, cupped his wife's chin in his hand, and kissed her. He lingered over the task, but Mary Rose didn't seem to mind. Much to her aunt's consternation, she put her arms around him and kissed him back.

He left a few minutes later. He spent most of the afternoon in the storage area adjacent to his London office. There was a pile of paperwork on top of his desk, and he knew he had at least a month's work waiting for him. While he sorted through boxes of old ledgers and correspondence, his assistant went over his list of questions about more pressing business matters.

Harrison didn't return to Elliott's country home until well after sundown. The house was packed to the rafters with relatives and close friends.

His wife looked relieved to see him. She was seated between her father and her friend Eleanor on one of the long sofas, but hastily stood up when he entered the drawing room.

Showing open affection in front of guests wasn't considered acceptable behavior, but neither Harrison, who knew better, nor Mary Rose, who didn't know, worried about convention. They wound their way around family and friends to get to each other. He was reaching for her when she threw herself into his arms and hugged him tight.

"I missed you," she whispered.

He leaned down and kissed her on her forehead. "How was your afternoon, sweetheart?"

"Hectic," she answered. "Lillian's frowning at us. I wonder what I've done wrong now."

"We aren't supposed to let anyone see how much we like touching each other," he explained.

"It is a hard and fast rule?"

He shrugged. He finally let go of her, but then draped his arm around her shoulder and hauled her up next to him.

Lord Elliott was looking at him in astonishment. Harrison surmised he was going to once again hear how much he had changed.

The two of them made their way over to her father. Lillian frowned with displeasure.

"It isn't like you to make a spectacle of yourself, Harrison. Let go of your wife."

"Leave him alone, Lillian. He isn't a little boy you can order about any longer. Come and join us, son. Eleanor was just telling us how much she enjoys being in England."

Mary Rose and Harrison sat down on the settee across from her father and her friend. Lillian was seated in a round-backed chair adjacent to the sofas.

"I do love it here," Eleanor announced enthusiastically. "I have my very own lady's maid and everyone has been quite gracious to me."

"She loves being pampered," Mary Rose whispered to her husband.

"Victoria, a lady doesn't whisper secrets while in the company of others," Aunt Lillian dictated.

"Yes, Aunt Lillian."

She wasn't through correcting her niece, however. "Quit slumping in your seat, dear. Straighten your spine with pride. You're an Elliott, I'll have you remember."

"She's a MacDonald," Harrison interjected, just to set the record straight.

"But also an Elliott," Lillian insisted.

Mary Rose tried to sit the way her aunt was and found it painfully uncomfortable. Lillian reminded her of a general. Her back was ramrod straight. She looked as if she were about to snap. Lillian had her hands folded in her lap. Mary Rose imitated the action and was rewarded by a nod and a smile from her relative.

"It's difficult to know what a lady is here," Eleanor interjected. "The rules of behavior are different than in America. Lady Barbara was telling me that a true lady never squints. Did you know about that rule, Mary Rose?"

"No, I didn't."

"Her name is Victoria. Please address her by her proper name," Lillian instructed. "The rules shouldn't be different," she continued. "Just remember, a lady is a lady no matter where she resides. Jane Carlyle defined a lady as one who has not set foot in her own kitchen in over seven years. I believe she's right."

Mary Rose felt like throwing her hands up in despair. She'd never heard of such rubbish. She noticed Eleanor looked devastated by Aunt Lillian's opinions. She'd obviously taken the definition to heart. Her friend flipped open her fan and waved it in Mary Rose's direction.

"I used to be a lady, and I would still be, if Mary Rose… I mean Victoria hadn't forced me to go into her kitchen back home. I even had to cook, Lady Lillian. Must I now wait seven years before I'm deemed a lady again?"

Lillian appeared stunned by Eleanor's confession. "You cooked?"

Mary Rose looked at her father. He seemed bewildered by the turn in the conversation.

She decided to change the subject. "I would like to see Harrison 's home," she blurted out. "He has boasted that his Highlands are as beautiful as my valley back home, and I would like to see for myself if he…"

The expression on her father's face stopped her from going on. He looked angry. Now what had she said wrong?

"I've upset you, Father?"

"No, of course not," he replied. "I was thinking about something else, my dear," he added. "The Highlands are beautiful. Harrison was right about that."

"I would like to see his home before I go back to Montana. Will there be enough time?"

She posed the last of her question to her husband. He nodded.

"We'll make time."

"What is this nonsense about leaving? You've only just gotten here," Lillian stammered out. " Victoria, this is your home."

"Quit pecking at her, Lillian. My daughter needs time to… settle in."

Elliott gave his sister a hard look. She immediately closed her mouth.

Mary Rose could feel the tension in the atmosphere, but she didn't have any idea what had caused the change. Her father and her aunt both appeared to be upset about something.

Mary Rose felt the need to apologize. She would have to find out what she'd done first, she supposed. She knew she was somehow responsible for the sudden silence and their quick frowns.

She almost let out a loud sigh of frustration but caught herself in time. She didn't wish to be criticized by her aunt again, and so she remained silent.

Harrison suddenly reached over and took hold of her hand. She realized she'd been gripping her fingers together then. His touch comforted her.

She held on to her husband and edged a little closer to his side. The conversation turned to the latest styles in women's fashions. Mary Rose wanted to talk about her father's work instead. Harrison had told her that Lord Elliott used to be a member of Parliament, but had retired from that duty when his wife had died. He was still active behind the scenes and had brought about several important changes in government. Mary Rose was curious to know what the changes were.

She was afraid to ask, fearing she would once again be sanctioned for talking out of turn. And so she listened as her aunt lamented over the news that trains, or rather the cascade of cloth creating a train behind a woman's gown, were on their way out. Lillian didn't much care for the short fitted jackets currently in style either, for the covering shamefully emphasized a woman's hips. That was all good and fine for a young, narrow-hipped lady, but not at all suitable for the older, more dignified woman.

Barbara and her husband, Robert, came over to join the discussion. Supper wouldn't be served for at least another hour, which meant sixty more minutes of hearing about clothes. Weren't the men bored? Mary Rose looked at Harrison to find out. His expression didn't tell her anything, though, and then she realized he was staring beyond her Aunt Lillian's shoulder. She guessed he was thinking about something else and only pretended to be listening to the talk going on around him.

She decided to follow his example, then realized what a mistake she'd made, because her thoughts immediately turned to her family back home. She pictured what her brothers would be doing right about now and was suddenly melancholy for her valley.

"Do you, Victoria?" Eleanor asked.

She was jarred back to the present by her friend's shrill voice. "Do I what?"

"Play tennis," Eleanor explained. "Weren't you listening?"

No, she hadn't been listening. "No, I don't play tennis."

"We shall have to teach you how, my dear," Uncle Robert insisted. "It's quite the rage now."

"She plays the piano," Harrison informed the group. His voice sounded with pride.

She squeezed his hand tight. "No, I don't," she blurted out.

He raised an eyebrow and leaned down close to her. "You don't?"

"No, I don't play the piano in England," she explained. She squeezed his hand again, silently begging him to go along with her.

Harrison couldn't figure out what had come over her. He could tell she was upset, but he didn't have any idea why. She should be proud of her accomplishments, not hide them. He decided he would have to wait until later to find out what was wrong. For now he would go along. "All right," he agreed. "You don't play the piano in England."

She relaxed her grip on him. She knew she would have to explain her motives when they were alone, and she wasn't at all certain she could make sense out of her feelings so that he would understand.

She remembered how she and Adam would sit side by side on the piano bench and play their duets together. They would laugh when one of them missed a note, and sometimes she would quicken the pace and try to finish the piece before Adam did. It was a joyful time, and she sought only to protect the memory. If any of her relatives in England mocked her technique or her ability, Mary Rose felt they would be mocking her brother too. She wasn't about to let that happen. Thus far, her aunt Lillian had found fault with just about everything about her. Mary Rose had tried to be gracious and put up with the criticism, because she wanted to make her father and her aunt happy. If they didn't hear her play the piano, then they couldn't find fault with her skill, could they?

In less than one week, her own behavior had changed radically. When she first arrived, she wanted to tell her father all about her brothers. Now she didn't want any of the relatives to know anything about her family. She sought only to protect them from the cruel little comments she was constantly suffering.

She knew she wasn't making much sense. Her brothers would never know what was said about them. That didn't matter though. It would devastate her to hear any negative remarks about the men she so loved.

She suddenly wanted to run upstairs and write a long letter to her brothers. She knew she couldn't leave the room now, however. She was going to have to wait until dinner was over.

Mary Rose hadn't quite adjusted to the change in her daily schedule. She was used to waking up at the crack of dawn each day and was always in bed by nine or ten o'clock each night.

No one in England seemed to want to eat his supper before bedtime though. It was half past nine when the servant finally chimed the bell. Mary Rose almost fell asleep at the table. Needless to say, her Aunt Lillian had quite a lot to say about her behavior. She nudged her with her elbow so many times Mary Rose was certain her side was getting bruised.

The gentlemen lingered in the dining room to drink their coffee while the ladies withdrew to the drawing room to have their after-supper tea. Mary Rose was so sleepy she wasn't paying attention to what she was doing. When Aunt Lillian stood up, she stood up too, and then picked up her plate to take into the kitchen. She was just reaching for her Aunt Barbara's utensils when she realized what she was doing.

Lillian looked horrified. Mary Rose felt like a ninny. She quickly put her plate down, straightened up, and slowly walked around the table.

Her face felt as though it were on fire. Eleanor was sympathetic. She looped her arm through Mary Rose's and whispered, "Don't be embarrassed. You're doing just fine, really you are. Smile, Mary Rose… I mean Victoria. Everyone's watching. Isn't your aunt Lillian wonderful?" She pulled Mary Rose along while she sang the praises of her relative. "She only wants the best for you, Victoria. Surely you realize that."

"Exactly why do you think she's so wonderful?" Mary Rose asked.

Eleanor was bubbling over with excitement. "Your dear aunt has decided that I must also have a new wardrobe. She told me I couldn't accompany you about town dressed in rags. I'm to be measured tomorrow."

Mary Rose looked back at her husband on her way out of the room. He smiled at her and pretended all was right with the world, but as soon as the servant closed the dining room doors, his expression turned to a dark scowl.

Lord Elliott cut him off before he could get started. "Quit glaring at me, Harrison. I know you don't like the way my sisters are pestering Victoria. They're only trying to help. Surely you can see how well meaning they are. You don't want your wife embarrassed when she's introduced to society, do you?"

He didn't give Harrison time to answer his question but plodded on ahead. "I have asked you for your cooperation, and now I will plead for it."

Harrison 's uncle-in-law Robert interrupted the discussion when he came back into the dining room. He'd gone upstairs for the third time to get his son to settle down for the night. The boy was being difficult, he explained as he took his seat.

"What have I missed?" he asked.

"Lord Elliott was asking me to cooperate," Harrison answered.

"Yes," Elliott agreed. He lowered his gaze to the tablecloth and in an unconscious action began to smooth out an imaginary wrinkle as he gathered his thoughts.

"I'm going to be stubborn about this," Elliott announced. "My daughter's happiness is at issue, and in this instance, I believe the end will more than justify the means. You've done a marvelous thing, son. You found my Victoria and brought her home to me. Now let me become her father. Allow me to know what's best for her. I want to help guide her into her new life. Don't fight the family. We all need your support now. Victoria looks to you for approval and if you also encouraged her to let go of her past, I believe she'll adapt in no time at all. She resists the truth of who she is. When you two are together, do you call her Mary Rose?"

"Yes, I do."

"Her name is Victoria," Robert reminded him. "She should get accustomed to hearing it."

"She isn't a child," Harrison argued. "She knows who she is."

"Didn't you hear what she said tonight?" Robert asked. "She expects to go back to America."

Elliott nodded. "My daughter hasn't even settled in here and already she talks of returning to the States. I will not lose her again. Please help me."

Harrison was shaken by Elliott's emotional plea. He was hard-pressed to deny his request. He saw the wisdom in supporting his wife's father, and if he focused on the fact that Elliott sincerely wanted what was best for his daughter, it all made good sense. He still found it difficult to agree, because it seemed to him that all the relatives were determined to change Mary Rose.

"I'll do whatever I can to make my wife happy," he promised. "But I would once again urge you to let her talk about her brothers. She needs the connection with them, sir. Surely you can understand how she feels."

Elliott didn't understand. "Why do you doubt the advice of experts? It isn't like you to be unreasonable. Kendleton and Wells aren't novices in their field of expertise. They have both strongly recommended that we help Victoria move forward. I won't listen to any more objections, and I would appreciate it if you would also try to encourage my daughter to think about her life here."

Harrison felt as though he were caught in a vise. His instincts told him the path Elliott was taking was wrong, but how could he argue with the experts? Were they right in their evaluations after all?

He finally acknowledged the truth. He liked Mary Rose just the way she was. He didn't want her to change, and that fact put him in direct conflict with her father. Hell, it was complicated, and Harrison couldn't even begin to imagine the confusion Mary Rose must be feeling.

She was caught between two worlds, and as her husband, wasn't it his responsibility to help her make the transition?

The talk at the table turned to other matters, and the men didn't join the ladies for a long while. Mary Rose couldn't stop yawning, much to her aunt's consternation. She was finally allowed to go upstairs a little before midnight.

She wasn't about to go to bed without first talking things over with her brothers and her Mama Rose, and so, after the maid helped her change, she sat down at the elegantly appointed desk and wrote two long letters. She included a long note for her brother to read to Corrie too.

There was another long-stemmed rose on her pillow. She was pleased by her husband's gesture, even though she still didn't understand the motive behind it. She didn't ask him why he was suddenly becoming romantic because she knew he would only insist that he'd always been thoughtful and tenderhearted.

Her husband had a reason for every little thing he did. In time she would figure out what he was up to, and she admitted she liked the mystery in this game of his. What had the maid told her Harrison had said when he ordered the flower? Oh, yes, she remembered. He wanted to remind her of something important. Mary Rose let out a loud, thoroughly unladylike yawn and got into bed. She fell asleep seconds later holding two precious gifts. The locket her Mama Rose had given her was in one hand and Harrison 's flower was in the other.

Her husband came to bed an hour later. He put the locket and the flower on the bedside table and then pulled his wife into his arms and fell asleep holding her. He tried to wake her up during the dark hours of the night, but his gentle little wife was dead to the world and couldn't be awakened. He finally gave up and went back to sleep. She kissed him awake at dawn and gave him exactly what he needed and craved, and much, much more. He was so sated, he fell asleep again.

Mary Rose quietly got out of bed so she wouldn't disturb Harrison. She washed and dressed and then went downstairs in search of breakfast.

The staff wasn't used to early risers, and when Lady Victoria strolled into the kitchens, she caused quite a stir. Edward quickly ushered her into the dining room, pulled out a chair for her, and begged her to be seated.

She turned down the offer of deviled kidneys with eggs and crumpets and asked for two pieces of toast and a cup of tea. Breakfast was quickly finished, and then Mary Rose asked the butler if she could go into her father's library.

He thought it was a fine idea. "You haven't seen the portrait of your mother yet, have you, Lady Victoria? Your father had it delivered from his London residence yesterday afternoon. It's a comfort for him to have it close. Shall I show you the way?"

She followed the butler up the stairs and down the second corridor. The house was quiet, for everyone was still fast asleep.

"What time does my father usually get up?" she asked in a soft whisper so she wouldn't disturb anyone.

"Almost as early as I do, mi'lady. Here we are," he added when they reached the library. He pushed the door open for her and then bowed. "Will you be wanting anything further?"

She shook her head, thanked him for his assistance, and went inside. The library was shrouded in darkness. The scent of old books and new leather surrounded her as she made her way over to the double windows. She pulled the heavy drapes back and turned to the mantel.

The portrait of her mother was lovely. She stared up at it a long while and tried to imagine what she'd been like.

"My goodness, Victoria. What are you doing up so early?"

Her father stood in the doorway. He looked startled by the sight of her. She smiled at him. His hair, she noticed, was standing on end. He had obviously just gotten out of bed. He wasn't dressed for company yet, but wore a long black robe and brown leather slippers.

"I'm used to getting up early, Father. Do you mind that I'm in your sanctuary?"

"No, no, of course not." He hurried over to his desk and sat down behind it. Then he began to stack and restack a pile of papers.

He was nervous being alone with her. Mary Rose didn't know what to make of his reaction. She wanted to put him at ease though, but wasn't certain how.

Her attention returned to the portrait. "What was she like?" Elliott stopped shuffling his papers and leaned back in his chair. His expression softened. "She was a remarkable woman. Would you like to know how we met?"

"Yes, please."

She sat down in a chair and folded her hands together in her lap. For the next hour she listened to her father talk about his Agatha. Mary Rose was curious about the woman, of course, and interested to learn all she could about her, but when her father finished talking, she still didn't feel a link with Agatha. She looked up at the portrait once again.

"I'm sorry I didn't know her. You've made her out to be a saint, Father. Surely she had some flaws. Tell me what they were."

Lord Elliott proceeded to tell her all about her mother's unreasonable stubborn streak.

Mary Rose interrupted to ask him questions every now and then, and after another hour passed in pleasant conversation, she believed her father had gotten over his nervousness and was feeling a little more comfortable with her. The mother she had never known drew the two of them together.

From that morning on, it became a ritual for her to go into the library and read until her father joined her. They would have their breakfast from silver trays the servants carried up, and they would spend most of the mornings together. Mary Rose never talked about her past, because she had been told several times by her aunts how much it distressed her father to hear her talk about her brothers, and so she encouraged him to tell her all about his family. She thought of their time together as a history lesson, but still found it very pleasant.

She slowly began to relax her guard, and after several weeks passed getting to know him, she realized how much she liked him. One morning, when it was time for her to leave him and go to her Aunt Lillian to find out what the day's schedule was, she surprised her father by kissing him on his brow before she left the room.

Elliott was overwhelmed by his daughter's spontaneous show of affection. He awkwardly patted her shoulder and told her in a gruff voice not to keep her aunt waiting.

He informed his sisters that evening that his Victoria was settling in quite nicely.

Quite the opposite was the case. Mary Rose was becoming an accomplished actress, and no one, not even Harrison, realized how miserable she was. She was so homesick for her brothers, she cried herself to sleep almost every night, clutching her locket in her hand.

Harrison wasn't there to comfort her. He had been given a mound of work to complete for Lord Elliott and was, therefore, forced to spend the weekdays and weeknights in the city. She saw him only during the weekends, but then the country house was always bursting at the seams with relatives and friends, and they were rarely allowed to be alone.

Harrison had become obsessed with finding the evidence to condemn George MacPherson. Whenever there was an extra hour available, he went up to their bedroom and poured over old ledgers he'd brought from London looking for the hidden discrepancy. Douglas had stolen the money from the nursemaid, and she had to have gotten it from MacPherson. Where in thunder had he gotten it, Harrison would mutter to himself. It was driving him crazy that he couldn't find it.

Mary Rose still hadn't met her father's assistant. MacPherson, she'd been told, had left on holiday just as she was reaching England. He had wired for an extension and still hadn't returned to work.

She told Harrison she supposed she would never meet the man because she fully expected to be back in Montana before the first hard snow, and it didn't look like MacPherson planned on returning to England any time soon. Harrison didn't agree or disagree with her assumption.

As time went on, she became more and more withdrawn. She'd written to her brothers at least a dozen times and still hadn't heard a word from them. She didn't want to bother Harrison with her worry that something had happened and her brothers were trying to shield her from bad news, and so she fretted about it in silence. She hadn't heard from her mama either, and she knew Cole had sent her Mary Rose's address. Had something happened to her?

Dear God, what would she do if her mama needed her and she couldn't go to her?

Worrying about her family put her on edge, of course. Her relationship with her Aunt Lillian became increasingly brittle. Eleanor had become the aunt's darling, and Lady Lillian was constantly comparing the two young ladies. Eleanor cooperated; Mary Rose didn't. Eleanor appreciated what the family could do for her. She adored her new clothes and realized the importance of looking smart at all times. Mary Rose would do well to learn from her friend's example. No one ever saw Eleanor with a smudge on her dress or a hair out of place. She never, ever ran anywhere. Why, when all the official functions began, Eleanor would be ready, but would Lord Elliott's own daughter? Could any of them bear it if she embarrassed them?

Mary Rose couldn't understand her aunt's obsession with such superficial matters. The behavior of the upper crust puzzled her. Women, it seemed, spent most of their days changing their clothes. Mary Rose was expected to wear a riding habit in the morning, then change to a day dress, then a tea gown, and finally put on an elegant dinner gown. It seemed to her that she was always running up the stairs to put on something different.

Women weren't supposed to engage men in conversation about political matters either. It wasn't considered ladylike to show one's intelligence. Did she wish to embarrass Harrison by behaving like an equal? No, no, of course she didn't, her aunt decreed. Mary Rose must learn to talk about home and family. She must present a smile to the world, and if she wanted to argue or criticize, well then, that was what her staff was for. It was perfectly all right to find fault with the servants.

Mary Rose didn't tell her aunt what she thought about her opinions. She knew she frustrated her relatives. She wanted to please her aunts and her father, and so each morning she vowed to try a little harder to live up to everyone's expectations. Her Aunt Barbara suggested she think of herself as a blank canvas and let them create a masterpiece.

August and most of September were spent preparing her for her place in society. Mary Rose learned all about the hierarchy amongst the titled gentlemen and ladies, who was interested in what, those she should avoid and those she should be especially nice to, and on and on and on, until her mind became cluttered with all the unimportant details she mustn't dare forget.

She spent her afternoons being tutored while she sat with her cousins in the conservatory of her father's home learning how to do needlework and other crafts.

Lord Elliott continued to pile work on Harrison. He was sent from one end of England to another on business matters, and on those rare occasions when he returned to his wife, she inevitably broached the subject of going home. Harrison put her off by telling her to wait a little longer before she made her decision.

He also gave her constant praise, so much so that she began to wonder why he liked what was being done to her.

Her last spurt of rebellion came just the day before she was to attend her very first ball. She found her Aunt Lillian in her bedroom going through her clothes.

"What are you doing, Aunt Lillian?"

"Ann Marie told me you're still wearing these crinolines, Victoria. They're out of fashion now. Don't you remember, dear? The tighter skirts are in. Shouldn't you think about throwing them out?"

Mary Rose was appalled by the idea. Throwing away perfectly good underskirts had to be sinful. She vehemently argued with her aunt.

A tug-of-war resulted. The underskirt her aunt was trying to take and Mary Rose was trying to keep ended up being torn in half. In the midst of the struggle, buckshot clattered to the floor.

"What in the name of God is that?" her aunt wanted to know.

"It's buckshot, Aunt Lillian. My friend Blue Belle suggested I sew some into the hems of my underskirts to weigh them down. The wind can sometimes become strong enough to blow a lady's skirts up over her head in the West."

Lillian was so appalled by her explanation, she had to sit down. She ordered Ann Marie to fetch her smelling salts and then patted the seat next to her and suggested to Mary Rose that they have another nice long talk.

Mary Rose knew what was coming. Her aunt wanted to assure her for the hundredth time that she and the family only had her best interests at heart. She would also tell her never to mention putting buckshot in her skirt hems again.

The family moved into their London quarters late that afternoon, and the following evening she was duly presented to her father's friends and associates at a formal ball in honor of her marriage.

She wore a beautiful ivory evening gown with matching gloves. Her hair was swept up into a cluster of curls and secured with sapphire clips. The dress was dangerously low cut, in keeping with the current fashion, and her maid had to assure her several times she really wasn't going to spill out of the bodice.

"You look like Lady Victoria," she whispered once she'd finished fussing with her mistress's curls.

Harrison almost missed his own party. He had just returned to London two hours before. He looked exhausted to her. Her husband stood with her father in the entryway and watched her walk down the stairs. Elliott was fairly overwhelmed by his daughter. He grabbed hold of Harrison 's arm to steady himself and whispered, "I see my Agatha when I gaze upon Victoria."

Mary Rose could see how happy her father was. She reached the bottom of the steps and executed a perfect curtsy. Her aunts and uncle stood in the background watching. Tears filled her Aunt Lillian's eyes as she watched her niece.

"Well done, Victoria," she praised. "Well done."

Harrison was the only one not pleased with what he was seeing. He wanted his wife to go back upstairs and put on something less revealing.

"She'll catch a cold," he argued.

"Nonsense," Aunt Lillian scoffed. "She'll wear her new jacket and be just fine."

Eleanor kept them waiting another fifteen minutes. She finally came down the stairs dressed in a pale green evening gown. She stared at Aunt Lillian for approval, and when the woman gave her a brisk nod and a quick smile, Eleanor beamed with pleasure.

Harrison was helping Mary Rose put on her fur jacket when Aunt Lillian spotted her gold chain.

"Where are your sapphires?" she asked.

"Upstairs," Mary Rose answered. "I wanted to wear my locket and Ann Marie told me I couldn't wear both."

"It won't do, dear. Why, the chain looks tarnished. Take it off this instant. Edward, run upstairs and fetch the sapphires."

"She wants to wear her locket," Harrison announced. "It has special meaning to her, and to me."

Her father also decided to champion her cause, and two men against one woman should have weighed the outcome in their favor. It didn't though. As usual, Aunt Lillian was a force to be reckoned with. A battle would have ensued if Mary Rose hadn't graciously given in.

She asked the butler to take her locket upstairs and put it on her desk. She also added the request that he be careful with it.

Aunt Lillian stopped frowning once the sapphire necklace was clipped around Mary Rose's neck.

"Do you ever get to win?" Harrison asked her on the way out the door.

"No, but that isn't important," she answered. "My aunt has my best interests at heart."

Harrison wasn't at all certain about her Aunt Lillian's motives, but because Mary Rose didn't seem upset by the woman's constant bullying, he decided not to make an issue out of the necklace now.

Mary Rose was filled with excitement. She felt like a princess in a fairy tale. She was determined to make her father proud of her and said several hasty prayers that she wouldn't do anything to embarrass any of her relatives.

The ball was held at Montrouse Mansion. Mary Rose stood between her husband and her father as she was introduced to well-wishers. She met the Duke and Duchess of Tremont and found them both delightful. The duke was quite old, befuddled too, because he kept calling her Lady Agatha and whispering what a miracle it all was.

No one corrected the man. She looked up at Harrison to see what he thought about the man's misconception. He winked at her.

She didn't believe she made very many mistakes. Her father and her aunts seemed pleased with her performance. It was a strain, though, to suffer everyone's curiosity. A baron with sideburns nearly reaching his mouth begged for a dance, and while she was being twirled about the floor, he asked her if she had ever seen any of those savage Indians he'd read about. He didn't give her time to form an answer, but added the comment that he supposed she hadn't, given the fact that she was raised by a God-fearing family in St. Louis.

Mary Rose didn't set the baron straight. When the dance was finished, she went in search of her husband. She spotted him standing in front of the French doors that led out onto the balcony. He was in deep conversation with another man she hadn't met yet. Whatever the topic was, it obviously irritated Harrison, for his jaw was clenched and there was a frosty look in his eyes.

Aunt Lillian intercepted her. "Your Uncle Daniel and Aunt Johanna have just arrived. Come and meet them, dear."

"Yes, of course," she agreed. "Aunt Lillian? Did you tell the baron I was just dancing with that I used to live in St. Louis?"

Her aunt didn't immediately answer her. She clasped hold of Mary Rose's arm and led her around the dancing couples. Mary Rose was too curious to let the subject go. She made the assumption her aunt was responsible and prodded her into telling her why she'd lied.

"It wasn't a lie, my dear, just a little fabrication. It's easier for everyone to accept you. St. Louis isn't as primitive, and there aren't many uncouth people living there. I have it on good authority they're quite cultured. I won't have anyone mocking you, Victoria. After tonight, no one would dare, of course. You're the most refined young lady here. I'm so proud of you. We all are. Your mother's surely smiling down on you with pride. There's Daniel now. He doesn't look at all like your father, does he?"

Mary Rose gave up trying to make sense out of her aunt's convoluted motives. She wasn't ashamed of where she'd grown up, but Aunt Lillian seemed to think she should be. The older woman didn't understand what a wonderful life she'd had, of course. How could she? Mary Rose was never allowed to talk about it.

Her father's brother seemed to be genuinely happy to meet her. His wife stood by his side, and after she'd gotten over her surprise and made the comment, as everyone else had, that Mary Rose looked so very like her mother, she embraced her niece and welcomed her into the family.

Mary Rose liked Daniel, but she decided to wait before she formed an opinion about Lady Johanna. If her aunt joined the others and began pecking at her, she wasn't going to like her much at all.

As was her habit, when she felt herself becoming nervous, she reached up to touch her locket. The link with her family comforted her. She felt a moment of panic when she touched the jeweled necklace, then took a deep breath, told herself she was being foolish, and tried once again to pay attention to what her Uncle Daniel was telling her about his family's exhausting holiday.

Mary Rose's glance kept returning to Harrison. She was finally able to excuse herself and go to her husband. She wanted to tell him to stop frowning, but the other gentleman was standing next to him, and she wasn't about to criticize him in front of a stranger.

Harrison 's friend, Nicholas, joined her. He introduced himself, bowed low, and then smiled at her. He was an extremely handsome man, with dark hair and eyes. He was almost as tall as Harrison was, wire thin, and oozed charm.

"Congratulations, Lady Victoria. I wish you and Harrison the best."

"Thank you, sir," she answered.

"Shall we go and save your husband from the biggest gossip in London?"

She put her hand on his arm and walked by his side. "What is his name?"

"The bore," Nicholas answered.

Mary Rose laughed. The sound of her amusement turned several heads. She quickly schooled her expression. "He isn't boring Harrison."

"No, he isn't," Nicholas agreed. "Your husband is trying to hold on to his temper."

Mary Rose was introduced to Sidney Madison a moment later. She had already decided she didn't like him because he was a rumor spreader, and his manners only confirmed her opinion. Adam would have called him a fop, and Sidney Madison wouldn't have lasted five minutes in Blue Belle. He was an effeminate man with overly long fingernails she thought distasteful. His manners were very affected too.

She put her hand on Harrison 's arm and stood by his side while Madison finished telling a story about his recent experience in New York City. Nicholas stood on her other side with his hands clasped behind his back. The sparkle, she noticed, was gone from his eyes. Nicholas seemed to be as miserable as Harrison obviously was. Her husband gripped the glass he was holding in his right hand, and she noticed his other hand was fisted at his side.

It had been a perfect evening thus far, and Mary Rose didn't want to have it ruined for her husband or her father. Harrison was the guest of honor, after all; he shouldn't have to suffer the bore's presence another minute.

She decided to separate the two. "Might I have a word in private?" she asked her husband.

"I've taken up too much of your husband's time, haven't I?" Madison asked. He turned to Harrison once again. "Congratulations to you. It was very clever of you to marry Victoria in America before she found out. Very clever indeed. I commend you."

Harrison knew he was being baited by the son-of-a-bitch. He silently counted to ten and vowed not to say another word.

Nicholas leaned forward. "Before his wife found out what, Madison?"

"Why, what she's worth, of course." He smiled after giving the insult.

Mary Rose heard Nicholas's indrawn breath a scant second before Harrison succumbed to one of his spells. He kept his gaze directed on the crowd in front of him, but she could see the hard glint that came into his eyes. Harrison suddenly reminded her of Cole. Her brother always got that peculiar gleam in his eyes just before he was going to…

Dear God. "Don't," she whispered to her husband.

It was already too late. If she hadn't been watching him closely, she would have missed his attack on the Englishman. With lightning speed, the back of Harrison 's fist slammed into Madison 's face. The man flew backward into the doors, put both of his hands up to his nose, and let out a low cry of alarm.

Harrison didn't even blink. He did smile, though, and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. He didn't even bother to look at Madison to find out what damage he'd caused.

Nicholas's mouth dropped open. Just as Madison was recovering his balance, Harrison 's friend whispered, "What did you just do?"

"This."

And then he struck Madison once more. The Englishman again went staggering backward. Mary Rose was horrified. Harrison turned and smiled at her.

"Shall we dance, sweetheart?"

And so they did. Nicholas's laughter followed them onto the dance floor.

"You're having one of your spells, aren't you, Harrison."

He took her into his arms and began to move to the music. "It's about time, isn't it? How are you holding up? I've missed talking to you. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "Did my father see what you did?"

"If the expression on his face is any indication, I would have to conclude he did. He just dropped his glass."

"Oh, Lord," she whispered. "If you've gone and ruined it for my father and his sisters, there will be hell to pay."

Harrison pulled her close. "Ruin what?"

"Their evening of course."

"The night belongs to you, sweetheart, not your relatives. Did I embarrass you?"

She had to think about it a long minute before she admitted the truth. "No, you didn't embarrass me. Quit gloating, Harrison, and try to look contrite. My father's on his way over to us."

Elliott blocked their retreat. "What in heaven's name have you done, son?"

Mary Rose grabbed hold of her husband's hand. "Don't ask him. He'll want to show you. He's having a spell, Father. I believe I should take him outside for some fresh air."

She wanted to get him alone so she could order him to behave himself. He wasn't living in the West now. He was in London, for the love of God.

Mary Rose wasn't given the opportunity to be alone with her husband until they returned that night to her father's London house.

Ann Marie helped her get ready for bed, and she was just getting under the covers when Harrison came in.

She bolted upright. "Did you break that man's nose?"

"Probably."

"You aren't sorry?"

"No, I'm not. He insulted me. How was I supposed to react?"

"You were supposed to think before you reacted," she instructed him.

He shrugged, dismissing the incident. "I have to go to Germany the day after tomorrow."

"Why?"

"On business for your father. I'm trying to get everything tied up for him. I know it's been difficult for you. I wish I could stay here to help…"

"May I go with you?"

"No, your father isn't about to let you out of his sight, sweetheart. He's already planned your schedule for the next four months. He wants to show you off. I'm trying to let him enjoy himself and not have to worry about his business concerns. We have some pressing cases to settle. Try to understand."

"Is that why we moved into his city house and not yours?"

"Your father doesn't want you to be lonely while I'm away."

He couldn't give her the exact length of time he would be away. She tried not to feel abandoned. As his wife, she realized her duty was to support and encourage him.

"I will be understanding," she promised.

Harrison sat down on the side of the bed and pulled her into his arms. "I wish…"

"What do you wish?"

She leaned into him. "That we had more time together. When am I going to see your Highlands?"

"Soon," he promised. "Try to be patient with your father, all right? He still hasn't recovered from the surprise of having you back. He needs time to get to know you."

Mary Rose didn't argue with Harrison. She tried to push her own wants aside. Her father had suffered long years, and it was her duty to give him as much peace and joy as she could. Adam had told her she had a responsibility to comfort him. Surely she could stand a little more homesickness, couldn't she?

It wasn't going to be possible for her to go home until next spring. The snow would soon cover the passes, making it impossible to cross. She reminded herself she was a strong woman. She could stand a few more months of loneliness for her father's sake.

And Harrison 's. "You once told me that you liked living in Montana, that you could be happy and content there. Were you… exaggerating with me?"

She was really asking him if he'd lied to her or told her the truth. He tried not to get angry. He didn't have anyone to blame but himself for his wife's uncertainty.

"Listen carefully to me. What happened is behind us. I know it was wrong of me to demand you trust me, but I'm going to once again promise you I will never, ever lie to you again. Do you believe me?"

"I believe you."

He relaxed his grip on her and began to slowly stroke her back. "Give yourself more time with your relatives and try not to think about making another change now. You've only just come home."

He was trying to be reasonable and logical. How could she make him understand? Home was with her brothers. She felt isolated amongst her English relatives and was constantly battling her own guilt because she wasn't living up to everyone's expectations. They all wanted the best for her, and every time a wave of homesickness struck her, she tried to remember that fact.

Harrison was exhausted, but he still found enough strength to make love to his wife. She fell asleep with his body pressed up against hers.

She was loved and cherished. And scared.

April 28, 1873

Dear Mama,

I have to spend the rest of the afternoon in my bedroom as punishment because I punched Peter Jenkins in the stomach. Do you remember I told you he's always trying to pester me. Well, he dared to kiss me today. I was so disgusted, I spit and wiped my mouth. I know I wasn't being ladylike, but spitting is better than throwing up, isn't it?

I heard my brothers talking about sending me to boarding school. Will you please write to all of them right away and tell them to let me stay home? I don't need to be refined. Honestly I don't. I'm turning out to be a lovely young lady. You told me so, remember?

I love you,

Mary Rose

P.S. I'm getting bosoms. They're a bother, Mama, and I don't think I like being a girl much today.