Marissa shook her head, realizing that she was in danger of being as wildly imaginative as her grandmother had accused her of earlier. “Nothing of importance, Grandmamma.” She smiled. “Valentine is a very unlikely name for Lord Kent, is it not?”
Lady Bethany smiled back wickedly. “I think it very suitable, Marissa, but then I have a great deal more experience of life than you. Now, I believe I will go and take a nap. What will you do?”
“I’m not tired so I will probably read or—or walk in the garden. Go and have your nap, Grandmamma, so you can look your best for later.”
“And why would I want to look my best?” Lady Bethany asked cagily.
“You can’t pretend to me you aren’t enjoying Lord Jasper’s company,” Marissa said.
“Nonsense,” Lady Bethany retorted, her voice sharper than usual.
Marissa was surprised at her grandmother’s reaction. Her flirtatious manner seemed to have quite deserted her and there was a serious expression in her eyes. Marissa had never seen her worldly grandmother take any of her conquests seriously.
“Very well then, you loathe Lord Jasper.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous, Marissa. I am going to lie down.”
After Lady Bethany had gone Marissa knew exactly what she was going to do. She was going in search of Valentine and Jasper, and one way or another she was going to discover exactly what they were keeping from her.
Chapter 4
There are six names on the list,” Valentine said, holding the chewed and crumbling piece of parchment gingerly, as if he thought it might disintegrate at any moment.
“The five companions who went to the Crusades with Richard de Fevre, as well as de Fevre himself,” Jasper added thoughtfully.
“Exactly.” Valentine grimaced as a flake of parchment fluttered to the desk. “I think we should write them down, Jasper, before this thing turns to dust. There’s a pen and ink over there…that’s it.”
“Number one?” Jasper asked, pen poised.
“Sir Wilfred Montfitchet.”
“And two?”
“Henry Fortescue.”
They went through the list, Jasper questioning the spelling and Valentine peering intently at the faded writing on the old document. He had no doubt this was what Von Hautt had been after when he called on Seth Bonnie and asked to see Valentine’s father’s papers. The first real clue in decades and Von Hautt had to find it first.
The rose is mine! he wanted to shout. You have no right to it!
But unfortunately, legally, that wasn’t so, although morally he was positive no one had more right to make such a claim.
“So any one of these men could be the companion who saved de Fevre’s life? The one to whom he gave the second rose?”
“It appears that way.
“How on earth did your father get hold of this?”
Valentine frowned in thought. “There are family papers. I’ve been through them myself, searching, but couldn’t find anything. I see now why. My father must have found the parchment and it was in his possession and then after his death, Bonnie held on to it.” He thought again. “He must have taken it with him for safekeeping.”
“Good lord,” Jasper said drolly. “You call Waterloo safekeeping?”
“You didn’t know my father,” Valentine replied, studying the new list Jasper had made. “Some of our family papers had already gone missing—sold off—and he didn’t trust anyone when it came to the Crusader’s Rose. My grandfather was none too fond of the whole matter, and as you know another of my ancestors destroyed the rose in the first place because there were too many strangers coming to the house, interrupting his peace and quiet. His vandalism and the rose’s loss to the world inspired my father to take up the quest.”
“And now his son is following in his footsteps,” Jasper murmured. “He would be proud of you, I think.”
Valentine remembered his father as a man in military uniform with a severe moustache, but he’d had a warm smile. His mother had died shortly after George’s birth, but she’d seemed to be always sickly, reclining on sofas and wincing when her young son came rushing into the room to tell her of his latest adventure. He remembered making her shriek once when he opened his cupped hands to show her a large and slightly battered insect he’d found in the garden.
And later there was Valentine’s wife. He’d had high hopes for a happy marriage, he’d been deeply in love, but it was not to be. Their marriage was short and miserable, and not something he planned to repeat. All in all, he decided, he hadn’t had much luck. It was about time fate handed him a good card in the game of life.