Rose gripped his hand when he tried to withdraw it. “Don’t.”
“No choice, love.” Steven kissed the tip of her nose but held himself stiffly away from her. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Rose said faintly, letting him go.
She watched him move across the room, taking up the hat he’d dropped to a table. “Steven,” she called.
He turned back at the door, impatient to be away.
“Be careful,” Rose said. “You’ve been . . . ill the last two mornings . . .”
“From overindulging?” His smile was wry. “Don’t worry, love. The appointment tomorrow is too important for me to arrive hungover. Sweet dreams.” Steven swung away and said nothing more as he disappeared out the door.
An important appointment with a grieving widow. Whoever she might be.
Steven had dropped the silk scarf he’d worn tonight around his neck. Rose lifted it, debated running after him with it, then lifted it to her lips instead. The soft fabric still held his warmth, but it didn’t ease the ache in Rose’s heart.
***
Steven was packing up the effects of one Captain Ronald Ellis when Rose tapped on the door of Steven’s parlor and entered to his grunted, “Come in.”
Rose stopped in surprise upon seeing the valise and the red uniform being laid inside. “Gracious, are you leaving?”
The note in her voice was one of dismay and alarm, which warmed Steven’s heart unexpectedly. She hadn’t asked with polite disinterest but with worry that he was going.
Steven smoothed out the uniform. “This isn’t mine. I’m taking it to the widowed Mrs. Ellis.”
“Oh.” He saw Rose readjust her thoughts. “The woman who tried to call on you yesterday?”
“The very one.”
Rose came to him and studied the pile inside the valise then reached in and started pulling things out to refold. Steven relinquished the task to her. As a soldier, he’d learned to pack efficiently, but the ability had deserted him this morning.
“Why does she not wish you to come?” Rose asked, shaking out and folding the red uniform coat. “I would think she’d want her husband’s things returned.”
“She wants the things,” Steven said. “Not me.” He let out a breath. “But I need to go. To finish this.”
Steven had no wish to face Laura Ellis this morning, but he owed it to Ronald. Laura would hate him, and that was fine. He’d go to her, let her take out her grief on him, and that would be all. He’d promised Ronald.Rose was watching him out of the corner of her eye as she packed. She had no idea what this was all about, but she wasn’t impatient or demanding him to explain. Steven folded his arms and let her warmth drift over him, closing his eyes to it. He wasn’t hungover this morning, but somehow he’d prefer a pounding headache and brassy throat to the remorse in his heart.
“Would you like me to go with you?” Rose was asking.
Steven popped his eyes open. “There’s no need . . .” He trailed off. Rose’s eyes were full of compassion, a softness for Steven. She’d had that even the first night he’d met her and fallen so cravenly into her bosom.
“Yes,” he said. “Please. Come with me, Rosie.”
***
Ellis had inherited a house north of Oxford Street, near Cavendish Square. Rose had asked Miles her former coachman to drive them, saying that such an errand should not be made in a hired hack. If Albert found out, he’d have to lump it, she said decidedly. Steven was torn between laughter at her resolve and dread of his errand.
Rain had started coming down in earnest. The London streets were soaked, mist rising from the pavements. Miles drove slowly, the streets slippery, but all too soon, he pulled up in front of the house in Mortimer Street.
Steven had dressed in his regimentals for this errand, and rain fell on his bare head as he descended. Rose started to come out after him, but Steven forestalled her.
“No need for that. You stay cozy in here.” He took the valise she handed him and gave her hand a caress. “Knowing you’re out here waiting for me will be enough to sustain me.”
“Please give Mrs. Ellis my condolences,” Rose said. “I know how difficult this is for her.”
Because Rose herself had lost a beloved husband, she meant. But she didn’t understand the half of it, unfortunately. “Thanks, love. Stay warm, now.”
Steven squared his shoulders, hefted the valise, stepped to the door, and knocked upon it.
***
“Steven.” Laura rose from where she sat at a writing table as her maid admitted him. The maid had tried to tell him that Mrs. Ellis wasn’t receiving, but Steven overrode her. “I asked for you not to come.”
“I know.” Steven set the valise on a table and opened it. “But I know you’d regret ever after if I didn’t. Here it is.”
Laura stared at the valise as though it held a snake. She took one step, two, and peered inside.
“He wanted you to have it,” Steven said, gentling his voice. “I couldn’t not bring it.”
Laura ran her hand over the uniform coat inside, fingers catching on the buttons and braid. Her shoulders sagged.
“And this.” Steven removed a locket and chain from his pocket and pressed it into her hands.
Laura stared down at it, anguish on her face. “What do we do now? Tell me, Steven. What do I do?”
“We remember him. And honor him.”