Her Defiant Heart (49 page)

"That is no way to say it. You make it seem as if you were expendable."

"I was," he said, shrugging. "That's how I thought of it then. The trouble was, I had my own doubts about the rightness of the war. I did not feel as strongly as the rest of my family about the South's secession. Braden knew that. He went in spite of Father's objections, and he died in the very first battle."

Jenny's hand rested on Christian's forearm. She squeezed his wrist lightly because she could think of nothing to say.

Christian's shook his head, shedding his maudlin thoughts as if they were a second skin. In truth, for years self-recrimination had been his
only
skin. Whiskey had numbed, but never freed him, and he had been satisfied with that, even sought out the dulling effect of drink to the exclusion of feeling anything too deeply. Jenny made him think differently, and his feelings hinged on that difference. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to go on. You are very restful, Jenny. I almost forgot where we were. The next time you ask about Logan and photography we'll leave the discussion at pinhole cameras."

Jenny opened her mouth to reply and then closed it abruptly when she saw Christian's attention leave her. His brow was drawn together, and his eyes had become distant, gazing at a point beyond her shoulder. She turned to see if anyone was standing behind her. No one was. Puzzled, she looked back at him. Suddenly the shuttered look left his cool eyes, and he took Jenny's breath away with the smile that he turned on her.

"You inspire genius, Jenny!" He took her by the elbow and drew her to her feet.

"I do?" Christian was fairly dragging her across the floor toward the door, making no effort to shorten his stride. His limp did not impede him in the least. Breathlessly she asked, "Where are we going?"

"To the carriage. Then home. I can't wait to show you!" Just beyond the steps of Beach House Christian stopped, lifted her, and kissed her full on the mouth. "I know how to get a camera into the bank. God, it's so simple! All this time... right in front of us." He kissed her again.

Flushing from his infectious excitement
and
his kiss, Jenny gently pushed at his chest. "We should go. People are staring."

"And they should. You are magnificent." When this did not soften the line of Jenny's raised eyebrow, Christian reluctantly released her, straightened the hood over her hair, and led her to where Joe was waiting with the carriage.

Twenty yards distant, Stephen Bennington abruptly excused himself from his escort. Embarrassed by his churlish behavior, young Sylvie Andrews looked to her chaperone for an answer. Sylvie had quite accepted the fact that she would never keep and hold a man for her looks alone, but she had hoped the size of her fortune would keep a worldly man like Stephen Bennington at her side for at least the length of one evening.

Bobbing and weaving among the squeeze of people, Stephen caught sight of Christian just as he was entering his carriage. When Christian sat down, Stephen could see the woman huddling next to him. He quickened his pace.

Jenny saw Stephen a moment before Christian did. Inside the ermine muff, her hands folded in white-knuckled prayer. Stephen was upon them before Christian recovered his surprise and could tell Joe to go.

"Marshall," Stephen said. He raised his hand to tip his hat and realized he had lost it during the chase.

"Bennington." Christian was merely watchful at first, but when Stephen's interest turned on Jenny, his eyes turned icy.

Stephen smiled politely. "You are the very last person I expected to see here tonight. No doubt you could say the same of me."

Jenny made no reply.

"Don't you think it is time you came home, Caroline? I suspect you think this latest escapade of yours has been a lark, but how long do you imagine it can continue? The madness is certain to rise again."

"Caroline?" Christian asked. "What does he mean, Jenny?"

Stephen laughed while Jenny remained mute. "She's been calling herself Jenny, has she? I am not familiar with that name. Sometimes it was Anna or Grace. Once she called herself Marie."

Tears glittered in Jenny's eyes. Her glare called him a liar.

"Let's go home, Caroline. We can take care of you there." He reached over the side of the carriage and brushed her shoulder with his fingertips. She recoiled.

Christian stood. "Do not touch her again, Bennington."

"Your concern is misplaced." Still, Stephen removed his hand. "Caroline is family." He glanced back at Jenny. "Haven't you told him?"

And then Christian knew. He
knew
. He turned to Jenny for confirmation because it was for her to say. "Is he speaking the truth? Are you family?"

"Tell him, Caroline," Stephen said.

Jenny felt the pressure of both their stares. Her throat ached with it. "I am Caroline Van Dyke. Stephen is my stepbrother."

"And?" Stephen prompted.

"Some would say my fiancé."

"There you have it, my friend," Stephen said. "Caroline is coming with me."

"I am not your friend," Christian said. "Jenny is not going anywhere with you." As an afterthought, he added, "Not unless she wants to."

That he could even think she would want to go with Stephen filled Jenny with dread. "No," she said almost inaudibly. "I want to stay with you."

Christian sat down and placed an arm about Jenny's slim shoulders. "You heard my wife, Bennington. She is staying with me."

Stephen was rendered speechless for a moment. The handsome, finely drawn aristocratic features sagged briefly. "Your wife? But that's... that's not possible. She was engaged to me."

"Proper use of the past tense," Christian said with light sarcasm. "She
was
engaged to you. She
is
married to me." He nudged Joe, who was sitting with his back turned, pretending not to hear anything but prepared to leave at a moment's notice. "Good evening, Stephen."

"Wait!" Stephen gathered his wits just as the carriage rolled forward. "She can't be married to you!" he called after them. "You did not even know who she was! It's not legal! I tell you, it's not legal!" Belatedly he realized he was drawing unwelcome attention with his shouting. He dropped the hand he had unconsciously raised and took several deep breaths. Raking his fingers through his hair, Stephen ducked his head against the curious stares and retraced his steps back to Beach House. It occurred to him that he should probably break off with Sylvie Andrews now that Caroline was undeniably alive. There was no question but that he intended to have her.

* * *

The ride back to the St. Mark was very much like the ride home from Amalie's on New Year's Eve. Neither Christian nor Jenny spoke. When they reached the St. Mark, they walked into the hotel at the same time, but no one who saw them thought they were together.

Scott and Susan were waiting in the lobby. They did not have to be told that something was wrong. Christian's expression was stony; Jenny looked as if she would shatter. "We're coming with you," Scott said firmly, not waiting for an invitation. "Susan has something she wants to tell you."

Christian shrugged. "Suit yourself. The three of you go on up. I am going to the bar first."

The sadness in Jenny's eyes deepened. "Christian—"

"Nothing from you," he said, cutting her off. "Nothing."

Jenny raised the hem of her skirt and darted up the wide staircase. Her hands were shaking so badly when she reached her door that she couldn't insert the key.

Susan took it from her. "Let me," she said gently.

"Perhaps you should go to bed, Jenny," Scott said once they were inside. He took her cloak, then Susan's.

"No. I want to wait for him." She sat in the rocker. "I am afraid neither of us is going to be good company." She missed the look that passed between Susan and Scott at her understatement. "Perhaps you'll want to visit another time."

"Jenny," Susan said, "if you weren't so upset, you'd realize we would hardly be making a social call at this hour. It's after ten."

Jenny glanced at the pendulum clock. "So it is. Is something wrong then? Your little girl—"

"Is fine. We came about you. Where are your photographs?"

"In the bedroom." She pointed to the door on the right. "They're still in the hatbox."

"May I?" asked Susan. "I want to show you something." At Jenny's assent Susan got the hatbox. She sat down beside her husband on the chaise and sorted through the photographs. "Here. This one." She showed it to Scott, who studied it for a moment and finally nodded. Susan passed it to Jenny.

Jenny gave the picture a cursory glance, then looked at Susan. "I don't understand. What is it that I'm supposed to see?"

"On the wall behind Mr. Bennington's desk. Don't you know what that is?"

She looked at the print again. "I suppose it's a painting." She shrugged. She traced part of the photograph with her forefinger. "This looks like part of a frame. Gilt-edged, I think. From the size suggested here, it would be rather large." She gave the picture back to Susan. "Obviously it means something to you, but honestly, I don't know what it is. I have never seen it clearly. The angle's all wrong."

"I believe that you've never seen this painting in Bennington's office," Susan said. "But you're familiar with the portrait. You must be. You posed for it."

Jenny's mouth parted slightly but no sound emerged. She took back the photograph and studied it again.

"You won't be able to tell anything from it," Susan said.

Christian opened the door to the suite. He was followed by a waiter carrying a tray. It held four cups, a silver creamer and sugar bowl, and a silver coffee urn. Christian took the tray, set it on the table between Susan and Jenny, and then dismissed the waiter. He pulled the overstuffed armchair closer to the table and began to serve. "It is going to be a long night," he said. "I thought a clear head was in order."

"That was cruel," Susan said, accepting the cup that Christian offered her. "You know what we thought when you said you were going to the bar."

"I cannot be held accountable for your assumptions," he said, shrugging. "The hotel's dining room is closed. The bar is the only place to get coffee at this time of night. Scott? For you?"

Scott nodded. "Still, Christian, Susan's right. You deliberately let us believe you were going to get drunk."

"I still might." He passed a cup to Scott, then Jenny. "But for now, I would like to hear your conversation."

Susan started to speak, but Jenny cut her off. "Susan was explaining how she came to realize that I am Caroline Van Dyke." She passed Christian the photograph, ignoring the starts of surprise that rattled the Turners' coffee cups. "If you've never been in my stepfather's office, then you wouldn't know from this picture that it is my portrait hanging behind his desk. I didn't know it myself. But apparently Susan's been there, and she remembered. Is that right, Susan?"

"Yes. There was a problem with our account. I went to see Mr. Bennington personally to straighten it out. I was not with him long, and I didn't study the portrait, but I must have been aware of it in some fashion to remember it now."

Christian looked at Susan over the rim of his coffee cup. "You always said you thought Jenny was familiar. It seems you met her at the bank." He tossed the photograph on the table. "How long have you known?"

"Since the night I saw the photographs," Susan said. It was an uncomfortable admission.

"I see. I wish you would have said something."

"I thought it was Jenny's secret to keep or divulge."

Jenny set down her cup and saucer on the table. Hard. "Stop it. All of you. You are talking as if I am not in the room. Christian, I'm sorry that you had to learn the truth the way you did—perhaps it would have been more palatable coming from Susan rather than Stephen—but that's the only other way you would have learned it. I wouldn't have told you if I had had a choice—for all the reasons that you're showing me now."

"Well," he drawled, raising an eyebrow, "I apologize for being somewhat out of sorts because of what I've heard this evening. I can't think why it should bother me to be confronted by a man who is both your stepbrother and your fiancé. I suppose I should be rejoicing that your true identity is finally revealed. After all, I was willing to marry a housemaid. What a stroke of luck that she is worth twenty million."

"Twenty-five," Jenny said softly.

"Twenty-five, then." He laughed shortly, humorlessly, and turned his attention to Scott and Susan. "That's an adequate dowry, don't you think?"

"Christian." Scott said his friend's name injecting a note of caution. He didn't understand half of the exchange between Christian and Jenny, but he knew better than to jump to more conclusions. "Perhaps we had better listen to Jenny's side."

Christian leaned back in his chair. "By all means. Go on, Jenny—or would you prefer Caroline?"

His sarcasm stung, but Jenny's composure held. "I understand that you are too hurt to make explanations easy for me, but I hope you can find it within you to give me a fair hearing."

Ruddy color tinged Christian's cheeks. "I'm listening."

Jenny spoke primarily to Susan and Scott with occasional glances at Christian. She told them first of the encounter in the Park with Stephen Bennington. "I told Christian that some would say that Stephen was my fiancé because that's what Stephen believes. I thought giving in would put a period to it. I should have known better. The truth is a little more complicated than Stephen would have wanted anyone to understand. We were engaged for a very short period of time, but I cried off before there was a formal announcement. A few directors at the bank knew, but no one else. I do not think Stephen ever informed them that I didn't intend to go through with the marriage.