Unveiled (30 page)

“Christopher, please. I can explain—”

“There will be time for that later. Aunt Eunice, are you all right?”

“Yes, it was just the shock. Katie, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know—”

“No, none of us did.” Christopher glared at Katie, fury turning to rage. “It seems there is a lot we don’t know, although that shouldn’t be a surprise. May I ask one question. What the hell is going on here?”

Patrick came forth and extended a rough and callused hand. “I’m Patrick O’Connor, Katie’s grandfather. This is her aunt Moira, and Sean you’ve met.” Christopher returned the handshake, and Patrick continued, his voice calm: “I know this has come as a surprise to you, but we’re in a bit of trouble and couldn’t abide by the formalities.”

“What kind of trouble?” Somehow Christopher managed to speak, but Katie could hear the hoarse emotion choking him.

“We were evicted.” Patrick turned to Katie and nodded apologetically. “I couldn’t pay the rent, so Mr. Riegan was forced to give notice. We need some help and a place to stay for a while.”

Katie gasped, her hands pressed to her mouth in shock. “But I didn’t—”

“I know,” Patrick said reassuringly. “I didn’t want to cause you any more worry. Lord knows, you’ve had enough of your own. But I can’t continue as I’ve been. For a lot of reasons, I am forced to depend on your mercy. Mr. Scott, if you don’t want us here, say so and we’ll go.”

Katie saw the fierce pride in her grandfather’s eyes. Her own filled with tears and she turned her head, holding her son close, waiting for Christopher’s verdict.

“You don’t have to leave. I won’t have Kate’s family in the street,” Christopher said quietly, and Moira fell to her knees.

“Bless you, sir! An angel, you are! I knew it from the moment I saw you!”

Patrick slumped, relief overtaking him, while Eunice stared about her, stricken with shock. Christopher turned to leave and Katie disengaged Sean from her robe, then ran after him.

“Christopher, you must listen to me—” He turned, and she winced at the fury in his eyes.

“Katie, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Not now or ever.”

“But I tried to tell you.”

“Liar!” He glared at her, then forcibly restrained his anger as the sound of voices reminded him that he could be overheard. “We will talk about this later. I can’t right now. I have to go to work, and I need time to think.”

“Please…” Katie tried to take his hand, but he withdrew it from her immediately.

“We will talk later. Now I just want you to leave me alone.”

His eyes were distant, as if he was so hurt he couldn’t bear the pain. He stared at her as if she was a stranger, then he turned as if he couldn’t wait to get her out of his sight. Katie crumbled against the steps, sobbing helplessly as he disappeared.

This time the lies had gone too far.

And both of them knew it.

“I’m so sorry, Kate. John Sweeney was blackmailing us, and I couldn’t pay anymore. I was afraid he’d get to Sean.” Patrick stood beside her in the garden, his hand heavy and comforting on her shoulder. “I had no idea that your husband didn’t know about your son.”

“It’s all right.” Katie leaned her cheek against his hand and wiped at her tears. “It’s my fault—I really should have found a way to tell him. But it was so hard. And every time I thought of people’s reactions, of the way they treated me when they found out, I got more scared.”

“I know. It’s a damnable world, lass. There are no two ways about that.” Absently Patrick picked off a dead leaf from the boxwood shrubs, then glanced around the garden. “It needs work,” he commented, indicating the overgrown flower beds and neglected lawn. “I could help him with this.”

“I’m not sure how much of our assistance he’ll take,” Katie said slowly, the anguish in her voice. “Or if he’ll forgive me at all.”

“He will, Kate. Just give him time. I sense that he’s a good man, for all that he is angry now.”

“That’s not it. You should have seen his face.” Katie shuddered as her grandfather embraced her, and the tears flowed freely. “He looked at me as if he didn’t know me! The worst part is, he was just starting to trust me. Now…”

“Now you must make him trust you again,” Patrick said consolingly. “And there’s only one way to do that. If you leave him now, he’ll always believe you were nothing but a liar or worse. But if you stay, endure his anger, and see it through, he’ll come to know you the way we do. And love you just as much.”

“Oh, Paddy.” Katie hugged him back, overwhelmingly glad that he was with her once more.

“We have to make plans, however,” Patrick continued, embarrassed by her reaction. “He may not want us to stay. You need some money help—I can provide an income. And there’s Sean to think about. John Sweeney will find us again, sooner or later. We have to find a way to deal with him.”

“The troubles never end, do they?” Katie questioned softly. But her grandfather’s words had made her dry her eyes. He was right—and she needed all of her resources to deal with the inevitable.

“No, they don’t. At least, not for us.”

“May I come in?” Charles Pepper knocked lightly on the office door, stunned to see Christopher seated behind his desk with a brandy bottle before him. It was late afternoon and most of the clients had gone, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that something was terribly wrong.

“Shut the door,” Christopher said abruptly. Charles complied, and Christopher nodded. “Good. The last thing I need is for your old man to see me like this. Charles, I really want to be alone.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Charles took a seat, then indicated the bottle. “May I?”

“Sure.” Christopher pushed it over to him, then indicated the bookshelf. “There are glasses in there.”

Charles retrieved a glass, then poured a drink, more alarmed by the moment. He sipped the brandy, waiting for his friend to speak, but the silence continued. Finally Charles began.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“No.” Christopher finished his glass and then refilled it. Charles saw the half-empty decanter and shuddered.

“Is everything here all right? Father says you are doing extremely well, so that couldn’t be the cause.”

“Your old man is correct.” Christopher laughed sarcastically, then drank down the potent liquid. “In fact, I make more damned money for his clients than any of your other bankers. Doesn’t that strike you as ironic, Charles? Tens of thousands of dollars cross my desk every day, and I can scarcely afford lunch.”

Charles struggled, as if wanting to say something, then sighed in frustration. “But you are paying off your debts. At the rate you’re going, Chris, you’ll be solvent within a month. Then you can start clearing up the debt at home.”

“And within another year, I can hold up my head again. But what do I do in the meantime? I have Aunt Eunice to take care of. And Katie.” Christopher laughed bitterly. “My beautiful, deceitful wife.”

“Chris!” Charles seemed shocked. “How can you say something like that? Why, Katie has stuck by you in a situation that would make most women run. And she is devoted to you—even Bertrice says that.”

“Ha.” Christopher poured another drink with the steady precision of the very drunk. He refilled Charles’s glass, ignoring his protest, then lifted the glass eye level. Swirling the amber liquid, he spoke softly, almost to himself.

“Brandy is so deceiving, isn’t it? The color of it is beautiful, like soft gold. And the smell of it…” He rolled the glass, then breathed deeply of the scent. “It’s like the finest of perfumes. One would never think of the effect it can have on the unsuspecting.”

Charles’s brow knotted. “Chris, did something happen between you and Kate?”

“The man is a genius.” Christopher bowed, ignoring the angry flush that came to Charles’s face.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“No,” Christopher said softly. For a split second Charles glimpsed the pain in his face, but it was gone in a moment, replaced by the sarcastic scowl. His anger dissipating, he thought of Bertrice and how terrible he would feel if something happened between them. He rose and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Come on, let me take you home before my old man sees you.”

“I can’t go back there.” Christopher stared across the room at nothing. “You see, they’ve taken over my house. There’s a leprechaun, an actress, and…” His face convulsed with pain.

Charles nodded, unable to understand a word. “All right, let’s go to my club then. You can sleep there.”

Christopher hesitated a moment, as if he hadn’t heard him, then rose reluctantly to his feet. He turned to his friend, then spoke seriously.

“Charles, when this is all over, will you do one thing for me?”

“Certainly,” Charles said earnestly.

“Good.” Christopher took a deep breath, then indicated the brandy bottle. “Tell your father his liquor stinks.”

Charles stared at him, then broke into laughter.

T
WENTY
-O
NE

C
hristopher walked into his house and stared with astonishment. Patrick sat on a wooden box, a checkerboard between his knees, and a sodden old gentleman sat across from him, contemplating his next move. A gin jug sat beside them, and as each man took a turn at the game, a little of the liquor disappeared as well.

Aunt Eunice sat on the floor, playing with Sean and a tabby cat that appeared to be the newest addition to the household, while Katie energetically whisked dishes from the table and poured tea. Sean, basking in Eunice’s attention, laughed merrily as the kitten chased light beams from the chandelier overhead, which was newly ablaze with gas. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and Christopher leaned against the door, feeling like an outsider in his own home.

“Oh, there you are.” Eunice handed Sean the cat and turned to her nephew. “Christopher, where have you been? It’s been two days! We were worried.”

“I can see that,” Christopher said sarcastically. No one seemed concerned in the least. Patrick gave him a questioning look, then returned to the game.

“Who the hell is that?” Christopher gestured to the other gentleman. “Not another O’Connor?”

“Why, no.” Eunice laughed merrily, in a way he hadn’t heard in weeks. “That’s Tom Gallagher, Mr. Armstrong’s groom from next door. He and Mr. O’Connor have become good friends. Do you want to hear the most hysterical thing? He actually shoots the game—Mr. Armstrong has been faking it for years.”

“It’s a known fact to his household.” The groom belched, then took another swig of the gin. “The man couldn’t shoot the side of a barn. I get the game for him and he takes the bows. It seems a fair exchange.”

Christopher nodded, still bewildered. He glanced up at the lights, then recalled the newly trimmed hedges and flower beds outside. “And the gardens? Who—”

“Paddy,” Katie volunteered quickly. “He is a gardener, you know. He cleaned up the yard and, with some of the money he made by doing Mr. Armstrong’s hedges, got the gas turned on.”

“I know one of the men who lays pipe,” Patrick said modestly, as if reluctant to take full credit. “He said he’ll let me make payments.”

“Where is the milk?” Eunice glanced up from the icebox, then shared a wink with Sean. “I’ll get the kitty a drink, but I can’t find—”

“What about those?” Christopher pointed to the lace curtains that hung from the wall, and the pretty valances that covered them. “Where did they come from?”

“Moira,” Katie said. “She is an excellent lacemaker. Eunice had some material, and Moira made the headings. She also did the dining room and the hall.”

“Where is that milk?” Eunice continued.

Patrick jumped three of his companion’s checkers, then guffawed as the groom slapped his knee in disgust. “Told you you weren’t watching. Never play checkers with a man that drinks. That’s what I always say.”

“Well, give me another.” Tom wiped his lips, then turned to Eunice. “The actress has your milk. Says she’s taking a bath in it.”

“Moira?” Eunice looked to Kate.

“Oh, yes. When she’s playing Miss Lillie, she likes to take milk baths. She’ll be down directly.”

Christopher leaned against the wall, staring at the chaos that was now home. It was as if everything had gone mad. Turning furiously to Katie, he indicated the garden.

“I want to talk to you. Now.”

She nodded quickly, then removed her apron and followed him outside. He stopped beneath a huge oak that had already been denuded of leaves with the coming of winter. Fighting to catch his breath, he stared at her as if unable to decide what to do with her.

And she looked so damned beautiful. Just having not seen her for two days made him newly appreciate the glossy blackness of her hair, the clear blue of her eyes, which now stared at him, full of fear, and the slender curves of her body. Her lip quivered and he was newly angry. How could she stand there, looking so innocent, when…

He’d done nothing but think about it, about her with another man. He knew it was foolish, but he couldn’t help comparing that image with the one of their lovemaking. Had she made the same sounds, assumed the same expressions as she did with him? What did any of this mean to her?