Read Online One Perfect Rose by Mary Jo Putney - Free Book Online Page A

him to the Royal George later?” Maria halted, adding a little shyly, “That is, if you’d like to see our theater troupe at close hand.”
    â€œThere is nothing I’d like better,” Stephen said truthfully. He’d been backstage at several regular theaters but had no experience of strolling players. Visiting this troupe would be a pleasant distraction.
    Rosalind stood, and they went outside into the sunny courtyard together. As they crossed to the stables, she said with a humorous glint in her eyes, “I hope you didn’t find a Fitzgerald breakfast too overwhelming.”
    He smiled, as much for the sight of sunshine on her tawny hair as for her question. “It was an experience. But not an unpleasant one.”
    They reached the stables, and he opened the door for her. Giving in to curiosity, he commented, “You certainly don’t resemble anyone else in your family. Were you a fairy changling, perhaps, found amidst the cowslips and strawberries?”
    â€œNothing so poetic.” Her expression became opaque. “I was adopted. The Fitzgeralds found me scavenging near the London waterfront when I was three or four. Apparently I’d come ashore with my real mother, who died immediately. Heaven knows what would have happened if the Fitzgeralds hadn’t happened by.”
    He stared at her, chilled by the knowledge of all the horrific things that might befall a lost girl child. Especially a pretty one. “That’s an incredible story to relate so casually. Did the Fitzgeralds try to learn more about your origins?”
    â€œThey didn’t have much time because they had to leave London for an engagement in Colchester. Mama says my clothing had been well made and I spoke with a good accent, so my family was probably not impoverished.” She shrugged. “That is the extent of my knowledge about my history.”
    Jupiter stuck his head out of a loose box and gave a peremptory snort. Stephen stroked the velvety nose. “Do you ever think about your original family?”
    Rosalind hesitated before saying, “Yes, though I wouldn’t let Mama and Papa know for the world. They’d be hurt by the implication that they hadn’t done enough, when no one could have raised me with more love or kindness.”
    â€œYet still, it is natural to be curious,” he said quietly.
    â€œYou understand, don’t you?” Her eyes devoid of their usual laughter, she began stroking Jupiter’s sleek neck. “Quite possibly I have relatives somewhere. I used to study the audiences for people who looked like me. I wonder sometimes what my real name is, and if someone was waiting for me and my mother in London. It’s been almost twenty-five years now. Does anyone anywhere remember that little girl who was lost?” She glanced at him, her gaze wistful.
    Her hand had stilled on Jupiter’s neck, so he touched it in a gesture of comfort. Their fingers met, and he felt a small shock, almost like static electricity in the winter. But this was…different. Dropping his hand, he asked, “You recollect nothing of the time before the Fitzgeralds?”
    â€œA few scattered images. Being hugged, though perhaps that was Maria. A stone house that seemed large, but probably wasn’t except in a child’s mind.”
    â€œYou don’t even remember your own name?”
    There was a flash of something dark and terrible in her eyes before she looked away. “Not even that.”
    It was time to change the subject. “It must be strange to know nothing about one’s ancestors.” Stephen gave a wry smile. “In some ways, that’s a blessing. I think many children would like to believe that they were born to royalty, stolen by gypsies, then left by accident with the peculiar people who claim to be their parents.”
    Rosalind smiled, all trace of darkness gone. “That’s true, isn’t it? Human nature is the