Jo Goodman (44 page)

"You know I thought you were dead."

He nodded. "Oh, I don't hold you in contempt for desiring to secure your future. Quite the opposite, in fact. It is gratifying to see that you've landed so nimbly. Rather like that cat I've seen trailing in your wake."

Anderson's words reminded Berkeley that he had been a registered guest of the Phoenix. "You knew about the wedding," she accused.

He did not deny it. "A rather lavish affair, we thought. Isn't that right, Garret?"

Garret Denison held up both hands. "I have no wish to be included in this discussion." He glanced over his shoulder and took note of the chair behind him. He sat down and crossed his legs. While he professed not to desire a speaking role, he clearly gave indication that he was interested in the proceedings. His cerulean eyes were raised expectantly in Berkeley's direction. "Please, continue."

Berkeley did not respond.

Anderson filled the silence. "You're thinking perhaps that I could have stopped the wedding. It occurred to me. Indeed, it occurred to both of us, though Garret seems unwilling to claim any particular responsibility. We certainly arrived at the Phoenix in time. As that boy said, hiding in plain sight."

"You didn't register in your own names."

"Certainly not. That would have rather defeated the purpose, would it not? I held a rather strong belief that your wedding should proceed as planned. It seemed uncharitable of me to deny you all the niceties of the occasion as I had before. Where was the harm in permitting you a splendid gown or a wedding banquet? I regretted, of course, that I could not be in attendance. Garret shared some of the same sentiments, but we endeavored to enjoy ourselves in a private celebration in our rooms."

"I can't imagine what you thought there was to celebrate," she said.

"Can you not?" Anderson asked skeptically. "Haven't you yet divined the purpose of our visit?"

Berkeley fell silent. It was difficult to keep her hands at her side when what she wanted to do was secure the earring pendant at her throat. It was the knowledge that it was hidden beneath the high collar of her gown that kept her still.

"Your patience does you credit, Berkeley," said Anderson. "If I thought it was stubbornness that kept you mute, I would not be complimentary." He lowered himself into a half-reclining position on the arm of the settee, one leg stretched out to the side for balance. "Naturally I believed there was something to be gained by permitting you to marry. Something beyond finally offering you the wedding night you'd been previously denied."

Berkeley could not help the faint wash of color that touched her cheeks. She felt Garret Denison's keen interest on her. Obviously there were things about her marriage to Anderson that had not been explained to him.

Anderson noted the tinge of rose in Berkeley's complexion. He was satisfied that the intimacies of marriage had not made her coarse or jaded. He had never desired her as he had other women, but she was endlessly fascinating to him. It had been the source of some surprise that he was able to share her with Grey Janeway. He had not expected it of himself.

"I was under the impression," Anderson said, "that you may not have been entirely honest with your husband."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Come, Berkeley. Don't dissemble now. What does Janeway know of me?"

"That you're supposed to be dead."

He smiled, his amusement genuine. "Do you believe saying it often enough will make it so? Yes, I know, you visited my grave. You've said that already, but you can see that I'm not buried in it. And I'm certainly no specter, though I suspect you wish that were true. What I meant by my question, since you pretend not to understand, is this: Does Grey Janeway think of you as a widow?"

Berkeley's hesitation gave away the answer.

"He doesn't know you were married," Anderson said. "I suppose that answers a question I had. I confess to wondering if you entered into your marriage a virgin or whether in my absence you had resorted to the whoring ways of your mother."

Berkeley's flush deepened. Her lips moved, but there was no sound.

"What? I don't believe I could have interpreted you correctly. Did you just tell me to go to hell?" He looked at Garret Denison as if for confirmation. Getting no response, he returned to studying Berkeley. "Well?" he asked.

"I told him you were my stepfather."

"Clever girl. Not a lie, but no longer the entire truth."

Garret Denison's mouth thinned, his distaste evident. He'd heard enough. "I want the earring," he said. "The boy led me to believe it was in your possession."

Berkeley frowned. "You've come all this way because of the earring? Aren't you going to make yourself known to your brother?"

"He appears to have carved out a new life for himself. By all accounts, it is a successful one. Why else would he let it be known that he killed Graham Denison? That's what the boy told us he'd heard. It's a good story." Garret straightened the sleeve of his jacket. "Graham can most politely be described as a disappointment at Beau Rivage. His penchant for gambling and whoring and drinking was not embraced by the family. Grandmother had some tolerance for my brother's dissolute behavior, but it was not shared by anyone else. Certainly not Grandaddy. He offered Graham the cane cure, but it didn't take." He heard Berkeley's sharp intake of breath and smiled faintly. "Frankly, I wouldn't seek him out at all if it were not for the earring. I want it back. It's rightfully mine."

Berkeley was aware of a vague weakness in her knees. There was nowhere for her to sit. The chair was taken, and she refused to share the settee with Anderson. "The earring is yours?" she asked. This revelation was rather too much to absorb. Was Garret Denison the brother Colin and Decker were seeking? She glanced at Anderson. "Have you always known this?"

He merely smiled.

It occurred to Berkeley to wonder if the Thornes could have ever correctly been called their clients. Anderson seemed to have had some previous arrangement with Garret Denison. "I don't understand," she said. "Captain Thorne said the earring was last in the possession of your brother."

"But not in his rightful possession," Garret said. "Did Graham tell you it was given to him?"

Berkeley's frown deepened, and a small crease appeared between her brows. Didn't they know Grey couldn't say one way or the other, that he had no memory of his past? She probed gingerly. "You call him Graham. He goes by Grey now."

"Gray was Grandmother's pet name for him. No one else used it. His disappearance killed her. He can't atone for that in my eyes. It's a bit of a conceit on his part to claim that name now. Just as it was for him to claim the earring. It's never been properly his. I want it back. It belongs with the family."

"I don't have it."

Anderson shook his head. "That's not worthy of you, Berkeley. The boy told us you did. He said he knew where you kept it."

"Yes," she said. "I learned that much. Nat stole it from me and planned to give it to you. I can't believe that you offered anything close to its real value."

"I don't know," Anderson said, examining his nails with idle interest. "We offered the boy his life."

Berkeley felt her knees actually sag. Garret was on his feet immediately, offering first his support, then his chair. She accepted both numbly.

"Where is the earring?" Anderson asked.

Staring at her folded hands, Berkeley shook her head. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I never saw it again after Nat took it."

Garret swore but Anderson waved him off, unconcerned. "She's lying. I confess I find it hard to believe that she would risk the boy's life, but she's lying to us nonetheless. She wouldn't let the earring out of her sight."

"I didn't," Berkeley said. "Not until Nat stole it from me. He did it at your request, don't forget that." She pointed to the intricately carved box lying open on the mantel. "I kept it there."

Anderson didn't look in the direction of the mantel, but Garret Denison moved there immediately. As Anderson had anticipated, Garret found it empty. "You can't really expect that she would lead you to it after denying she knows where it is."

Berkeley thought Anderson sounded almost bored. Clearly he did not believe her and in his own way was indicating his loss of patience. "It was at your request that Nat took it," she said. "I believe he meant to give it to you the same night he ran away. That he didn't can only mean that he sold it to someone else, perhaps someone representing themselves on your behalf. What I know with certainty is that when I found Nat that evening he no longer had the earring."

"You shouldn't have let the boy go," Garret said to Anderson. "You shouldn't have been so willing to believe him."

"I put more faith in the boy's tale than I do in Berkeley's."

"Nat was punished for his theft," Berkeley said, continuing the thread of her lie, pulling it gently through the fabric of truth. "The earring could not be returned. He couldn't name the persons who took it from him, and I had no reason to suspect you had any part in its disappearance. Indeed, the other night when you came upon Nat by the stables, he led me to believe you were Colin and Decker Thorne."

Anderson chuckled. "A touch of whimsy on my part, I'm afraid. I had to give the boy some names and those came to mind. Tell me, did you credit he was telling the truth?"

"I did... at first. Grey eventually convinced me otherwise. He believed you were Sydney Ducks."

"Much closer to the mark," Anderson agreed, taking no offense. "But I grow weary of this matter of the earring, especially when I have other business with you."

Before Berkeley could answer, Garret interrupted her. "Perhaps she has it on her person," he suggested. "A thorough search should uncover it."

Anderson saw Berkeley recoil. His immediate reaction to her revulsion was anger. With some effort he kept it in check. "You would have to conduct such a search," Anderson told Garret. "Berkeley could never abide my hands on her. She said she found it painful, if you can believe that. I'm not talking about those times I meant to punish her and to elicit obedience in turn. I'm speaking of caresses which a husband may properly exchange with his wife. She can't bear my touch on her in that fashion. Shall I show you?"

Garret witnessed that Berkeley's face lost every trace of its color. He couldn't rightly say that he faulted her for sensibilities. Given a choice himself, Garret Denison would have had no dealings with Anderson Shaw. He imagined his reluctance stemmed from recognizing Shaw as a man of a similar moral, or perhaps, amoral code. He held the advantage, he thought, because Shaw did not seem to recognize the same in him.

"That won't be necessary," Garret said. "I'll do the search."

Berkeley's head swiveled in his direction. Did he really believe she would permit him to touch her in that fashion? Her eyes widened fractionally as he took a step toward her.

Garret Denison paused. He spoke to her in his quiet, honeyed drawl and left no doubt as to his sincerity. "I assure you, I'm quite serious. It doesn't bother me at all that you're my brother's wife. Quite the opposite. There is a certain amount of satisfaction in doing this that Graham would understand. He's taken many more liberties with my wife than I intend to take with you. At least at this point in time." Garret placed his hand over Berkeley's shoulder as she would have vaulted to her feet. "If you will be so kind as to remove your gown," he said politely. "We can begin."

Chapter 13

"No," Berkeley said. Her refusal was given quietly, without hysterics, without rancor. She did not give ground as Garret Denison approached.

"No?" he asked. "I do not believe you are in any position to deny me. I have your husband's permission." He extended one hand. His fingertips were raised mere inches from Berkeley's forearm. He noted the chill that swept her skin. Garret's kindly tempered voice was at odds with his words. "I'm afraid, Mrs. Shaw, I don't recognize your right to refuse."

Berkeley did not look to Anderson for help. "And I don't recognize your right to dictate to me. That puts us at something of an impasse, I believe, because I swear to you that if you touch me now, I will scream so loudly most of Portsmouth Square will empty into this room."

Garret's lowering hand was stayed. It hovered a moment, then he retracted it, letting it fall to his side. He glanced at Anderson Shaw. The slight suggestion of a smile around the other man's mouth led him to believe he could expect no real help from that quarter. "Do something with her, Shaw. I want that earring."