Someone to Watch Over Me (Bow Street Runners #1)(58)

"What is that?" Grant asked.

Vivien was silent, staring at the face of the letter. Something about the way the words were formed, the phrase "White Rose Cottage," seemed to reach into her sleeping memories and jostle them. Her lips parted, and she read the address soundlessly, again and again.

"Well, Linley?" Grant demanded, interrupting Vivien's concentration.

The doctor shrugged, actually seeming a touch sheepish. "Good God. I had forgotten about that."

"Where did it come from?" Grant asked impatiently.

"Miss Duvall left it here on the day I confirmed her pregnancy. As I told you, she was quite distressed. In her haste to leave, she dropped her reticule. The contents spilled out, and she scooped them back inside. After she left my house, I discovered that she had overlooked this letter, which obviously she had intended to send to someone. I had intended to return it to her on her next visit. I placed it in the file for safekeeping."

"Didn't it cross your mind that the letter might be important?"

"I'm a busy man, Morgan," the doctor said defensively, folding his lanky arms across his chest. "I have more important things to do than oversee my patients' correspondence. Now, you can continue to berate me for a small oversight, or you can open the blasted thing and read it." Vivien had already broken the seal. Unfolding the neatly creased paper, she discovered a few lines written in flowery script. Some of the words had been dashed off hastily, a few letters left unfinished.

Dearest,

No, you must not come to town. There is trouble brewing here, but nothing I can't manage. I'm off to settle a few minor matters, and then I'll come to Surrey. Together soon, dear--

Vivien

Barely aware of Grant reading over her shoulder, Vivien continued to stare at the letter. "Did she mean to send this to a lover?" she murmured.

"Probably."

"Do you think she could be there now? At this White Rose Cottage?"

"We'll find out. I'm going there today," Grant said. "Right after I report to Cannon at Bow Street."

"I want to go with you."

"We don't know who will be there, or what to expect. You'll be safer here."

"But that's not fair!" Vivien exclaimed. "If the real Vivien is in Surrey, I want to see her too. She might be able to explain how I came to be in her place. She might even know who I am. I must go with you!"

"No," Grant said. "You're staying in London in the protection of my own home. I'll have one of the Runners assigned to watch you this evening, in the event that I need to stay away longer than expected." Seeing her unhappy expression, he slid an arm around her waist and bent his head to speak softly. "I won't risk a precious hair on your head. I don't know what I might find in Surrey--and I'd prefer you to stay here and be safe and comfortable. Let me take care of this alone."

Vivien nodded, feeling comforted by his concern for her. "You'll hurry back as soon as possible?" she asked.

His lips pressed against her forehead, and she felt him smile against her skin. "Believe me...the only place in the world I want to be is wherever you are."

Staring at the letter in her lap during the short ride home, Vivien traced the feminine script with the tip of her finger. V. Devane...The name bothered her, tugged at her. Like so many other things, it seemed familiar but evoked no actual memories. V. Devane...

"Do you remember the little painting in Vivien's bedroom, by her dressing table?" she asked. "A cottage covered in white roses...and it had been signed by Devane. This man must mean a great deal to her, if she keeps his painting in her bedroom and runs to him when she is in trouble." She fidgeted with the letter until Grant finally held his hand out for it.

"Give me that thing before you rip it to shreds," he said. Vivien surrendered the letter without protest. "Do you really believe that Vivien is still alive?" she asked softly.

His hand slid over her knee, and he squeezed it reassuringly. "I believe she's landed on her feet like a cat."

She was relieved by his answer. "I feel so protective of her. I wonder if I truly am related to her. Do you think she and I might be sisters?"

"You look too much alike not to be."

Closing her eyes, she let out a tense sigh. "I want to know about my family...friends...I want to know why no one seems to be looking for me. A person can't disappear withoutsomeone noticing...Isn't there anyone who misses me?" Her voice faded to a near whisper. "Anyone who loves me?"

"Yes."

Startled, Vivien looked up into his purposeful face, while her heart pounded hard. He must be referring to himself, she thought in wonder.

"If I find Vivien today," Grant said, his green eyes filled with warmth, "it will change nothing between you and me. And when you recover your memory, I don't give a damn about what or whom you remember. I had no part of your past...but I intend to be your future."

"I-if you're talking about somehow making reparations f-for last night," she stammered, "I've already told you it's not necessary--"

"No, I'm not referring to that. I'm talking about my feelings for you."

His words caused equal parts of delight and dismay. Vivien could imagine no greater joy than being loved by a man like Grant Morgan. However, she feared that he still harbored guilt for having taken her virginity, and she did not want him to propose merely because she had been "ruined." Above all else, she must not be an obligation that had been thrust upon him. And she had not forgotten what he had once said on the subject of marriage. He had no use for a wife, he had told her. He hadn't wanted to stay faithful to one woman for a lifetime. Had he sounded less certain, less cynical...but he had left no room for doubt. And therefore, if he were saddled with a bride he had never really wanted, he might eventually come to resent her.