Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four

T he private sanitarium was tucked away in a quiet street in Kensington, a solid redbrick building with discreetly barred windows. Valentine was shown into the office by the superintendent himself, a competent-looking man of fifty or so years with a comfortable paunch, called Gouch.

"Sit down, Lord Kent."

Valentine sat down on the chair opposite, trying not to let his impatience show. "How is Baron Von Hautt?"

"He is well enough, I believe. The mania appears to have subsided, but we keep him very quiet here, no excitement. I don't know how he will react to seeing you, my lord. We must be very careful."

Valentine didn't want to be careful and he hoped Augustus would react by telling him everything he needed to know.

"Forgive me," Superintendent Gouch's eyes were watchful, "but are you and the baron related? It is just that he persists in calling you his brother. At first we thought it was just the term for his fellow man, brothers-in-arms and all that, but we've begun to believe he genuinely thinks you are his blood relative. Is that a fact, or simply one of his many delusions?"

"Unfortunately it is a delusion," Valentine replied. "But it is one I encouraged when he first spoke of it to me, and I am not adverse to keeping up the pretense if you think it will make it easier for me to converse with him. It is very important that I do so."

Gouch hesitated. "May I ask why, Lord Kent?"

Valentine leaned forward. "I am about to marry."

"Well, I must offer you my congratulations!"

He smiled and yet he found a little niggle of doubt, as he remembered Marissa's recent introspection. But now was not the time to worry if she was having second thoughts.

"Thank you. When my wife comes to live at Abbey Thorne Manor I want her safe. The baron knows of someone in my household who is my enemy, and I cannot be happy until that person is found and removed."

"I see. Yes, I quite understand your concern. I'm sorry I had to ask, my lord, but you see we must protect our patients as best we can."

"I understand. Now, may I see the baron?"

The superintendent rose. "This way, Lord Kent. Follow me."

* * *

Lady Bethany seemed to know exactly what she was looking for, and directed Marissa into a number of exclusive little establishments where the service was discreet and the staff eager to please. By the time the morning was over, she had ordered a wedding dress of exquisite pink satin and lace, matching slippers, and several outfits for their extended honeymoon.

"But won't I need serge or something stronger for climbing and walking?" Marissa asked. "You know what father's expeditions are like." The thought depressed her but she knew from past experiences it was better to be prepared.

Surprisingly, Lady Bethany laughed. "I don't think Kent has much climbing or walking in mind, my dear. He's far more interested in discovering everything about you than delving into the local flora."

Marissa felt her cheeks flushing. "Do you believe that, Grandmamma? How can you know?"

Lady Bethany lifted her eyebrows. "Surely you can see how besotted he is with you, Marissa?"

"I worry—a little—about . . . things. What if in a year or two he locks himself away in his study and I never see him? What if he insists on traipsing all over the country on wild searches for new roses?"

"My dear child, if you are worrying about that then you should act now, while he is putty in your hands. Insist he give up his roses or you will not marry him."

"Oh no, I couldn't!" she cried. "That is who he is, and if I am not prepared to marry him, roses and all, then I should tell him no."

Lady Bethany shrugged. "As you will. Did you take my advice about the hat?" she added, with a sideways glance.

Marissa couldn't help but smile. "I did. Thank you."

"And if Kent was a hat . . . ?"

Marissa laughed. "If he was a hat then I would purchase him in a heartbeat and—and never let him go."

Her grandmother's face softened. "Good," she said, as if that was the end of that. She became pre-occupied again, tapping her cheek with her fingertip. "Now, what else do we need? Nightdresses! And I believe I know exactly where to find them."

* * *

Augustus was seated by a window, gazing out into the garden at the back of the house. His gray hair was cut shorter than before and he looked thinner, tall and gangly, rather than the imposing figure Valentine remembered from their previous encounters.

The superintendent spoke his name, and introduced his visitor in a jovial tone that rang false, and then, with a nod at Valentine, left them alone. Valentine walked over to the window, seating himself in a chair nearby, but Augustus did not make any sign that he knew he was there.

"How are you, Augustus?" he ventured at last.

Slowly, as if the words barely registered, the baron turned and looked at him with his cold, pale eyes.

"It's Valentine," he said, leaning forward. "Your brother."

Augustus smiled, just a flicker of his lips, and then made a slight gesture toward the garden outside. "The rose isn't there," he said, his voice dry and husky. "I've checked."

"The rose is lost," Valentine replied, with a grimace. "We must both accept it."

But Augustus didn't seem willing to let it go. He frowned and then shook his head. "I have seen it."

Valentine felt shock ripple through him. He waited for the baron to go on, and when he didn't, urged him with, "You've seen the Crusader's Rose?"

"Yes." The baron swallowed, as if his throat was too dry, and looking around Valentine saw a jug of water and a glass, and poured some out, handing it to him. He drank thirstily. "A year ago. In a church. There was a great bunch of roses and it was there, right there. I could hardly believe my eyes. But when I asked the vicar he did not know where it had come from, and although I questioned his wife, too, she could not say who had given it."

Valentine sat, trying to think, wondering if it was true or simply one of Von Hautt's fantasies. "So you never found the origin of the rose in the church?"

"No."

"Where was this church?"

A sly look came over his face and he tightened his lips childishly, as though that way he could prevent any words from escaping.

"Augustus," Valentine said with a sigh, "we are brothers, remember? You can tell me."

But he shook his head.

Valentine let the silence continue a moment. He told himself there was no point in continuing with questions about the rose. What he really needed to do was ask Augustus about his accomplice.

"I need your help in a very important matter, Augustus."

The pale eyes turned to him, watchful, curious, waiting.

"Who is it at Abbey Thorne Manor who helped you? I know there was someone. Will you tell me their name?"

Augustus's face brightened and he smiled. "Bo-bo," he said promptly.

"Bo-bo? Who is Bo-bo?"

That secretive look again, and the overemphasized tightening of his lips.

"Don't you want Bo-bo to come and visit you here?"

He did; his eyes gave him away.

"If Bo-bo is to visit you, you must tell me who Bo-bo is."

The baron was torn. For a moment Valentine hoped he had won and that he would hear the name he desperately sought, but then the baron seemed to change his mind. Or lose interest. He shrugged and looked away, back to the window. His voice was so quiet Valentine had to strain to hear it.

"Bo-bo said never to tell."

"Augustus . . ."

"The rose isn't in the garden. I've checked. It isn't there."

Valentine tried again, and again, but it was no use.

Augustus had moved on or forgotten or he simply wasn't interested in telling him. Eventually he had to give up and leave the baron to his solitude. At least he had a name, as bizarre as it sounded.

Bo-bo. He repeated it to himself and thought it sounded vaguely familiar. For a time he tried hard to remember why, but the fleeting memory would not come to him and he had to let it go. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

He glanced back at the redbrick house as he left.

He knew he would come again—he felt a responsibility. Augustus may not be his flesh and blood brother but they were joined together in other ways.

Valentine even felt a sort of pity for him, now that the danger he'd posed had passed. The baron would never know the happiness that Valentine knew, would never have a future to look forward to. His life was effectively ended.

Valentine hoped that the baron didn't understand that.