Jo Goodman (4 page)

"Perhaps if you held it again, Mrs. Shaw," Jonna said. "You hardly gave yourself any time at all with it."

Berkeley shook her head. She wished herself anywhere but where she was. In any circumstances she would have been intimidated by her surroundings. In these circumstances, with so much pressure to perform in exactly the right manner, she was very nearly paralyzed.

It was not that anyone had been unkind to her. Quite the contrary. Jonna Thorne had received her graciously into the Beacon Hill home, showing her and Anderson into the large formal parlor herself. She made the introductions smoothly and warmly, though for Berkeley the moments passed in something of a blur. She remembered the nod in her direction from Jonna's husband. The man seemed to stand lightly on his feet, as if he were not weighted by the literal and figurative gravity of this meeting. He had a quietly amused expression that was both disarming and distancing. When he took her hand Berkeley understood the look in his eyes immediately. She had faced it, felt it, before. He was not judging her; he had already made up his mind.

Still, Decker Thorne was marginally less intimidating than his brother. It was outside Berkeley Shaw's experience to make the acquaintance of an earl. Jonna had introduced her brother-in-law as Lord Fielding, the Earl of Rosefield. Berkeley had not missed Jonna's sly, secretive smile as she performed the introduction, as if his title and lofty position were something of an amusement to her. It did not amuse Berkeley. She made what she thought was an adequate, if not particularly graceful, curtsy, and managed to murmur a greeting. Anderson would take her to task later for her backwardness. Hadn't they practiced these social niceties for just this occasion? It didn't matter. Berkeley was not prepared for the opaque, nearly black eyes that seared her with a single glance. When the corners of His Lordship's mouth lifted, only an edge of a smile was produced. Colin Thorne extended Berkeley the same skeptical consideration as his brother.

The Countess of Rosefield, even with her beautifully solemn gray eyes and grave smile, was infinitely more welcoming and warm than her husband. But then an iceberg would have also met those conditions, Berkeley thought. In fairness to Mercedes Thorne, Berkeley acknowledged that the countess was permitting herself to hope in a way that her husband was not. Her judgment was not fixed yet, but held in reserve.

Mercedes added her urging to Jonna's request. "Yes, Mrs. Shaw. Won't you hold the earring once more? I've heard this sort of thing is not always accomplished so quickly."

"Where have you heard that?" Colin asked. He added a shade mockingly, "Gypsies?"

Another woman might have blushed at Colin's tone. That he thought such an idea was foolish was clearly implied by it. No color washed Mercedes's cheeks. Predictably it was her chin that came up and she stared back at her husband fearlessly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, that is precisely where I heard it. I consulted a fortune-teller at the Weybourne fair."

"Can I assume you had the good sense to leave our children outside the Gypsy's tent?"

"And risk that they would wander away while I was occupied? Certainly not. The girls were quite old enough not to be afraid and Nicholas was entranced."

Colin's dark eyes were raised heavenward a moment. "Dear God," he said under his breath. "Why am I hearing this for the first time now?"

"Because of the way you're reacting, I suspect," she said in crisp accents. "I can't say that I like you thinking I behaved foolishly. As for why the children never mentioned it, I imagine their silence is the truest measure of how little they were affected by their encounter. I never suggested it should be a secret. They saw and heard dozens of things at the fair, and I recall they regaled you for hours about most of them. Some of them twice."

Colin was slightly mollified by this. He remembered their stories well enough. Still, it was peculiar that Elizabeth or Emma hadn't mentioned a fortune-teller. Perhaps they had known as well as their mother how he would view that escapade. Nicholas, though, he would talk to. In the future, on matters of Gypsies and fortune-telling, he would have an ally in his five-year-old son.

Not certain that she had made her point, Mercedes went on. "It really was most innocent, Colin. The opportunity presented itself shortly after Jonna had written us about the Shaws. I thought:
What could be the harm?
So I asked the Gypsy if the kind of thing Jonna had written about was possible. And she assured me it was. The handling of objects to gain some knowledge about the history of them is an acceptable practice."

"Acceptable to whom?" Colin said. "Of course the Gypsy would say that. She probably would have loved to get her hands on the earrings. Thank God Decker was in possession of both of them. We'd surely be missing at least one now, and a roving band of Gypsies would be the richer for it."

Although Mercedes did not require Jonna's defense, she was compelled to offer one anyway. "I'm certain you're making too much of it, Colin. Mercedes would not have offered the earring to be handled by just anyone. Why this Gypsy might not have had a talent for handling at all. She was a fortuneteller. That was her gift."

"Jonna," Decker said dryly, "you don't believe in fortunetellers."

"Well, no, I don't. But I don't know that Mercedes doesn't, and it seems to me that she shouldn't be taken to task for making inquiries that serve both her husband
and
you."

Decker had an urge to roll his eyes now. He looked at Colin instead. "Jonna's right," he said. "If anyone's to be taken to task, she is. This bit of nonsense today was her idea. I've mostly kept silent about it because I know it's partly responsible for you being here now. I can't regret my wife's interference when it prompts you and Mercedes to visit us almost six months earlier than you had planned. Still, I think we could have done without this little drama today."

Anderson Shaw had had enough. He saw that both Jonna and Mercedes were prepared to take offense, but he had no care for their feelings now. It was Berkeley who required his protection. She was not watching the Thornes as they sparred, but Anderson knew she was alert to every word. The fey look in her large green eyes gave her an otherworldly expression, but her mind was fixed in the moment. He watched her head bow slightly. Tendrils of pale hair brushed her cheek. The back of her long, slender neck was exposed. He took a step closer to his wife and placed one hand at the small of her back.

Berkeley looked up, startled, and found herself staring directly into Colin Thorne's dark, implacable eyes. She willed herself not to tremble. He would think she was afraid of him, and that wasn't it at all. The man with his hand at her back frightened her much more than the Right Honorable Earl of Rosefield ever could.

At thirty-nine, Anderson Shaw was one year older than Colin Thorne and five years older than Decker. Any advantage he had in age was negligible. These men he faced were used to command and did not extend respect merely as a courtesy but rather because it was earned. Anderson knew he had given them no reason to extend it to him. Yet. Even though he understood the women were a more sympathetic audience, he was careful not to look away from the brothers as he spoke.

"I cannot think that you intentionally mean to insult my wife," he said. He spoke in clear, deliberately modulated tones. The rhythm of his speech was even, and there was no accent to immediately identify him with any particular part of the country. His manner was formal and learned and perfectly suited to his distinguished carriage and solemn air. "Men with less breeding than you would not invite us into their home, then proceed to make disparaging remarks about Mrs. Shaw's gift. She did not go in search of this invitation. Indeed, it was Mrs. Thorne who found us, and I had to apply myself quite diligently to convincing my wife that coming here was a proper thing to do. This is a trying experience for her, not at all pleasant, and far from attempting to take away any part of your considerable fortunes with empty promises, she has stated quite clearly that she doesn't believe she can help you. I'm sure the countess paid her Gypsy fortune-teller and received no better consultation than that. We, on the other hand, have traveled from Baltimore, at some expense to ourselves, and have not asked for anything."

Anderson Shaw generally thought himself a tall man. Now, drawing himself up to his full height, he still had to raise his head a notch to stare down Colin and Decker Thorne. His left hand continued to rest at his wife's back, and when he spared a glance for her his eyes were warm and admiring. Without speaking directly to her he conveyed his support.

No one observed the knuckle digging hard into her spine.

It did not take a preternatural gift to see that Jonna and Mercedes were mortified. Any rudeness on their part had been strictly unintentional, but they could not say the same for their husbands. It was clear they thought some apology was in order. The only question was who would be first off the mark to make it.

Decker, his faint smile deepening as Jonna glared at him, snapped to attention first. "I regret offending you, Mrs. Shaw. I assure you I meant to upbraid my wife. It seems I cannot do that without casting doubt on what she refers to as your gift." He looked at Colin then, daring him to make a better show of contrition than he had.

Lord Fielding didn't even try. "Likewise," he said dryly.

It was not so much the knuckle pressing her spine that prompted Berkeley to speak up, but the fact that Mercedes looked as if she might simply clobber His Lordship in front of them. "Perhaps it would not hurt to try again," she said softly. "I think I understand now how much it means to all of you."

She couldn't know that, Colin thought. This young woman, in spite of her otherworldly charm, elfin beauty, and fathomless green eyes, couldn't possibly know what it meant to any of them, least of all him. Yet Colin acknowledged that neither he nor Decker was usually so lacking in good manners as they had been today. It was some indication of the intense emotion they shared, a measure of the desperation they felt. Is that what Berkeley Shaw sensed? When even their wives thought he and Decker had abandoned hope, had this woman realized it was only that they were terrified to risk it again?

Berkeley Shaw held out her hand, palm up. She did not withdraw it when Decker hesitated but waited with such a patient air that no one in the room doubted she could remain in that exact pose for hours. Decker looked to Colin and glimpsed the almost imperceptible nod that was lost on the others. He reached in his vest pocket, removed the earring, and placed it carefully across Berkeley's palm.

She reacted immediately. Her fingers, which had only started to close around the earring, unfolded spasmodically and remained extended and splayed. "Not this one," she said, looking between Decker and Colin. "This is the one you made to test me, to see if I would know the difference between an heirloom and a copy. I told you, this is cold. I can tell you nothing of your missing brother from this piece."

Decker's quietly amused expression vanished. It was a rare moment for the others to see him unsettled. His lapse, however brief, was proof enough for Jonna that Berkeley Shaw had spoken the truth. Her disappointment was palpable. "Oh, Decker," she said quietly. "You did, didn't you?"

"Not exactly," he said.

"But—"

Colin interrupted. "I had the copy made in England before Mercedes and I left. She is only finding out about it now. I told Decker what I had done when we arrived. No one else knew." He didn't add that he understood Jonna and Mercedes would not have approved. That point was made tacitly by his secretiveness on the matter. Colin's attention was drawn to Berkeley again, and his dark eyes narrowed as he regarded her steadily. "No one could have known," he said finally. And now there was a thread of hope in his voice.

Sunlight glinted off the gold drop dangling from Berkeley's fingertips. It drew Jonna's eyes. "May I?" she asked.

"I have no need of it," Berkeley said. She let the earring fall into Jonna's open palm and watched her study it.

"It's remarkable," Jonna whispered, awed. All the more remarkable because Colin had commissioned the copy from memory. It was Decker who was in possession of both earrings. "This is quite perfect. I shouldn't be able to tell the difference. How can you?" She gave over the earring to Mercedes, who regarded it with the same eye for detail.

Mercedes looked up at her husband. "Well, Colin? How do you know this is the copy and that you haven't confused it with one of the originals?"

When Colin didn't answer immediately it was Berkeley Shaw who interceded. "I believe your husband's silence is quite purposeful. He doesn't want me to know how he distinguishes the pieces. Perhaps he and Captain Thorne are planning another test."

"I certainly hope not," Mercedes said crisply. "That you've passed this one is quite sufficient in my eyes and should be in his. Isn't that right, Colin?"

The Earl of Rosefield almost smiled at his wife's attempt to bully him into agreement. "We'll see," is what he said.

Mercedes wasn't satisfied, but neither would she argue it out in front of others. What she did not do was return the fake to her brother-in-law. There would be no more substitutions if she could help it, and therefore, no more insulting tests. "Decker? Do you have the originals for Mrs. Shaw?"

Decker's quiet amusement returned when he realized Mercedes was not going to give him back the copy. He knew he confounded her by not asking for it. "Perhaps Mrs. Shaw would give her opinion of this piece," he said. Turning around briefly, Decker lifted a black-lacquered box from the mantelpiece. He felt Jonna's curious eyes following his movement. She knew the box normally held a few cigars for guests to enjoy after dinner. What she didn't suspect until he opened the lid was that he had removed the cigars earlier. Now the exquisitely crafted pair of heirloom earrings lay on a bed of black velvet.