A Rose Before Dying Read Online Free

Charles gripped the rough edge of
the wooden table. “A woman—”
    “And that is precisely why I must not guess,
my lord. What if I’m wrong? I’d help if I could, my lord, but what
if I’m wrong? Your lady may die after all, and I’d be to blame,
then.”
    “Any guess is better than none.” He took the
vase and fragile spray and rewrapped it in a bit of waxed linen.
His hands shook with suppressed anger. He was furious with himself
for divulging the true reason for his quest. Instead of gaining
Lee’s sympathy and cooperation, his explanation had had the
opposite effect. Lee was too afraid of making a mistake and bearing
the responsibility for a stranger’s death.
    Lee’s position was aggravating, but
understandable. The nurseryman couldn’t afford to guess wrong and
make an enemy of an earl. Better to stay silent.
    Charles studied the flowers briefly. The pale
roses drooped in his hand. If he could not get the name of the rose
soon, there would be nothing left to identify.
    “If you can’t offer any further help, I’ll
consider it Rosa collina .” Did his uncle know anyone named
Collina? Collins, perhaps?
    “What if you get it wrong, then? Kennedy was
the rosarian—not I. Will you risk it, my lord, when a life depends
upon it?” Lee eyed him with concern, as if he’d spotted a beetle
bent on consuming his recently acquired plant.
    “We have to risk it. What other choice is
there?”
    Lee’s hands played over the lid of the crate.
He hunched, his shoulders bunching to hide his vulnerable neck, as
if his very thoughts were dangerous.
    “Well, man?” Charles prompted. Make a
decision—give me a name ! Anything I can use . “What is
it?”
    “I can’t be sure.” Again the words were slow
and drawn out. “But there’s another. One who might take a chance on
naming a rose.” His mouth pursed in thought.
    Charles leaned forward. “Who?”
    “The Wellfleets.”
    “Nurserymen?”
    “No.” Lee shook his head and avoided
Charles’s glance. He was clearly ashamed of his refusal and even
more unhappy to provide the name of someone willing to take a
chance and earn the favor of an earl. “Fancier. Rose fancier.” He
shrugged, his rough hands gripping his crowbar.
    “A collector?”
    “Collector. Hybridizer,” he replied
grudgingly. Then he picked up a scrap of paper and scribbled an
address with a pencil stub lying nearby. “The Wellfleet nursery
created a few new specimens. They might be willing. Sorry, my lord,
but ‘tis more than my life is worth to guess. I’m sorry.” Although
he clearly respected Mr. Wellfleet, he apparently believed the man
was prone to taking foolish risks.
    Perhaps Mr. Wellfleet was indeed the man
Charles needed to find. He took the scrap of paper and read the
address. To his surprise, it was located a few blocks from the
stables he patronized. His sense of urgency eased a fraction.
Visiting the Wellfleet establishment would not take him too far out
of his way, and he would not make the same mistake of explaining
too much, twice.
    He would simply demand the rose be
identified. By that expedient, he might still obtain the
information he sought before nightfall. “Thank you.”
    “Good luck to you, my lord.” Lee’s worried
frown showed his disbelief in such luck. “Give Wellfleet my
regards.”
    By the time Charles returned Electra to her
stall and ensured she had a full bin of oats, the summer sky was
blooming with rich blues and rose. An hour of daylight remained.
With luck, Mr. Wellfleet would cooperate and identify the rose
tonight.
    He hoped that would be soon enough.
    Charles would arrange for the protection of
the next victim and set a trap for the murderer. The authorities
would discover that Sir Edward was not responsible for the death of
Lady Banks, and his uncle’s nightmare would end.
    A chill cramped his muscles. He rubbed his
right thigh. How could he protect someone from a sharpshooter?
    He refused to consider it.
    He’d get a name.
    Then