A Rose Before Dying by Amy Corwin Page B

eyes. He held out the box, flipping it open.
She carefully removed the fragile contents. After a glance around
the room, she walked over to the desk and placed the roses on its
polished surface. She untwined the two stems and arranged them
side-by-side.
    She picked up the one with the deeper pink
coloration. After a moment, her breathing seemed to hitch. She grew
so pale Charles stepped forward to put an arm around her waist,
fearing she was about to faint. She leaned against him, her slender
back curving into his shoulder before she lifted her face and
glanced at him. Her mouth was inches from his.
    But instead of pushing him away, her eyes
grew languid and heavy. She turned slightly within his arms. Heart
thudding, he gently cupped her chin in his hand and touched his
lips to hers. She pressed more tightly against him, gripping his
lapel briefly before finally turning aside.
    “I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath. “I never
meant—”
    “It’s I who should apologize. I took
advantage.” He smiled to lighten the tension and glanced around.
“Where is your chaperone? Miss Baxter?”
    She laughed although the sound broke
suddenly. She gripped his arm as she struggled to control her
emotions. Her eyes filled briefly with tears. She blinked them away
and swallowed. “That’s the problem. I’ve been beside myself with
worry. I hardly know what I’m doing.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Miss Baxter is missing!”
    “Missing? When did you last see her?”
    “I don’t remember!” She rubbed the center of
her forehead with one hand, but she kept her grip on his arm with
the other. “She was here yesterday. That is, we discussed what we
would have for supper last night, but…. I was busy, you see, in the
greenhouse. Mr. Abbott brought me a tray. So I didn’t know until
now. I didn’t realize she was gone until I asked Mr. Abbott if he
had seen her. No one has seen her since yesterday!”
    “Yesterday!” He pressed his palm over her
hand, rubbing the cold fingers. “What about the servants?”
    “I was questioning them when you arrived. Oh,
I’m all at sixes-and-sevens! I hardly know what I’m doing!”
    “Understandable. And here I am bothering
you.”
    “No, that’s just it—when I saw that rose…”
She broke off and stared at the flowers as if they were human
corpses.
    He gripped her arm. “What about the
roses?”
    “One—that darker one—I believe it may be Rosa Alpina pendulina. ” Her voice broke with a quick,
gasping laugh. “Commonly known as the Spineless Virgin.”
    “The Spineless Virgin?”
    “Yes—you don’t think… This sounds so cruel,
but you don’t think it could refer to Miss Baxter, do you?”
    “No, no. I’m sure it’s merely a coincidence.
We may be worried over nothing. Did she receive any urgent letters,
perhaps, from relatives or friends?”
    “No. I asked Mr. Abbott. She hasn’t received
any mail for days.”
    Although he felt increasingly certain that
there was no coincidence, he couldn’t bear to see Miss Wellfleet
suffer. “What other names does that rose have? Are you sure about
the identification?”
    “Fairly sure. Both of these roses are
singles. That is, the flowers have less than eight petals. But Rosa Alpina pendulina has a rich, dark bloom and is almost
thornless. I could be wrong, you understand, but it does look like
that rose.”
    “What about the other?” He pushed the second
rose closer to her. Even he could see the differences in the
leaves. The second rose had much narrower leaflets.
    “I feel more confident about that one. The
leaves are quite interesting, aren’t they? It is Rosa Hudsoniana
Salicifolia or the Willow-Leaved Marsh Rose. I’ve heard some
call it the Swamp Rose. The French name is Rosier d’Hudson à
feuilles de Saule although I don’t know how much good those
names will do.”
    The note indicated one rose for the soul and
another for the garden. A person and a place. Was it really that
simple? A spineless virgin in a