Thorne Brothers: With All My Heart Part 29

"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 coa.r.s.e 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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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 h.e.l.l?" 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, Berke-ley. 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 antic.i.p.ated, 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 dida 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 own 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 fas.h.i.+on. 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," Garretsaid. "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 fas.h.i.+on? 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 a.s.sure 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 Thirteen.

"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 impa.s.se, 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."

"And you shall have it, but really, Denison, your tactics are rather clumsy. My wife will scream, I a.s.sure you, and there are Sam Brannan's vigilantes to consider. You could render her unconscious and conduct a search of her person at your leisure, but I don't think one needs to go quite that far." His gaze swiveled coolly in Berkeley's direction. He knew her well enough to gauge her fear. She was not as calm as her brave, perhaps foolish, words would have him believe. "It's unlikely that she has the earring in her possession."

Garret Denison felt that p.r.o.nouncement almost as a physical blow. "You can't possibly believe her," he snapped.

"You misunderstand. I meant that it's not in her physical possession. Berkeley's unusual gift makes that unlikely. She had a strong reaction to the earring when the Thornes gave it to her to examine. I believe I told you about that."

He had, Garret recalled now, but the real significance of it had eluded him. "You mean she could not tolerate to have it physically on her?"

"I mean precisely that. When I gave her the earring for safekeeping, she kept it in a small leather pouch attached to her belt. Even then there appeared to be some indications of discomfort." Anderson smiled encouragingly at Berkeley. "Come, my dear, remove your outer gown and show Mr. Denison that you no longer carry the earring with you. Nothing else will be needed. His curiosity will be satisfied, and we can move on."

Berkeley offered no reply and made no movement to indicate she intended to do as Anderson suggested.

"A compromise, then," Anderson said. "You will permit a rather modest search of your person." He saw she was about to deny him and went on, his tone approaching boredom. "Yes, yes, I know you'll threaten to scream, but how does that a.s.sist you? Mr. Janeway will certainly come, and you'll be left with some uncomfortable explanations. That is supposing, of course, that you're able to make them before his interference costs him his life. You take my meaning, do you not? Yes, I see that you do. Now, the choice of how to proceed is yours. Shall I conduct the search, or would you prefer Mr. Denison? There is no need to rush your response. I'll give you a moment to decide."

Anderson's congenial smile chilled Berkeley's blood. She remained where she was because she simply could not move. Her eyes followed Anderson as he casually walked toward the window and looked out, his hands clasped behind him, his carriage confident and without visible strain.

There was a certain weariness in Berkeley's tone when she finally spoke. "If you will allow me to go to my suite, I will get the earring for you."

Anderson turned away from the window, his polished chestnut eyes hinting at his triumph. "You see, Denison, it's all in how the problem is approached." He studied Berkeley. "Though I confess, dearest, that I find this continued dislike of my touch insulting. I had hoped that Mr. Janeway had eased the way for me. You've been a proper wife to him, haven't you?"

Berkeley's pale cheeks filled with color. No reply occurred to her. She was too dazed to note that Anderson seemed disappointed he could not goad her into some intemperate remark.

Garret Denison filled the silence. "Whose b.a.s.t.a.r.d brat do you think she's carrying, Shaw?"

It was Anderson's stunned immobility that gave Berkeley her opportunity. She bolted for the door and grasped the handle. Even when Garret caught her she managed to twist it. The door opened several inches before it was slammed shut, blocked by Garret's body and secured by his weight. She wrenched free of his grip and stepped out of his reach. Her breathing came harshly, more from fear than exertion.

"Is it true?" Anderson demanded, his gaze dropping to her belly. "You're carrying his child?" He did not wait for a reply. Disregarding her earlier threats and his knowledge that she was revolted by his touch, Anderson closed the distance to Berkeley and used one arm to hook her roughly at the waist. He laid his free hand flat on her abdomen. "My G.o.d," he said under his breath. "You would bear him a child?"

Berkeley felt her stomach heave. There were no contents to discharge, but the dry wretch was enough to make Anderson release her. She stumbled out of his reach, bent forward, hugging herself. A hand at the back of her neck forced her onto the ottoman and pressed her head between her knees. She stayed that way for more than a minute while the voice above her commanded her to take deep breaths and exhale slowly.

The weight of Garret's palm on her nape seemed enormous. Berkeley's slender throat was encircled by the high-banded collar of her day dress, hiding the gold chain of her earring pendant while pressing the links against her skin. She was so aware of its presence that she expected Garret Denison to feel it as well.

"Breathe," he ordered calmly, his voice near her ear as he stooped down beside her. He watched color come and go in her face. Her eyes remained closed. Garret glanced over his shoulder at Anderson. "I've seen quite enough," he said. "As soon as she's adequately recovered I will accompany her to retrieve my earring."

Anderson sat on the arm of one of the chairs. He ignored Garret and gave his complete attention to his wife. "I won't raise another man's b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Berkeley," he said softly. "I did it once because I had no choice. I won't do it again. You'll have to get rid of it."

"For G.o.d's sake, Shaw," Garret said. "Leave it for now."

"Shut up," Anderson said with mock civility. "Berkeley? You do understand, don't you? I will find someone in the city to handle the matter. San Francisco's full of abortionists. You need not trouble yourself with the details. Our reward for the return of the earring will be substantial. I will be able to arrange for a physician to treat you."

Berkeley s.h.i.+vered. She felt Garret's hand fall away, and she raised her head. Her eyes were dull but not defeated. "I thought you would be pleased," she said. "After all, upon my death you may decide you will want to marry this child, too."

He itched to slap her but thought perhaps Garret would not tolerate another a.s.sault. The man had peculiar scruples, and Anderson had yet to clearly define the limits of his patience.

Was it possible Garret had some feeling for his brother's b.a.s.t.a.r.d? His eyes strayed to Garret. "I don't seem to recall," he said casually. "You're blessed with children?"

Garret stood. He cleared his throat. "No, as a matter of fact, Alys and I have none."

"Then the b.a.s.t.a.r.d may be your heir. That is, if you have a wish to name one. He is, by both our reckonings, your dear brother's baby." It could come to pa.s.s, Anderson thought, that the child would prove more valuable than the earring. "That is if you should acknowledge him as such. Would that prove difficult for you? I recollect the Denisons have not been noted for laying claim to their b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

Garret's cerulean eyes momentarily lost their warmth. "Your meaning, Shaw? Speak plainly."

Anderson would not be goaded. He shrugged. "Perhaps I misunderstood something once told to me. It's of no account now. I beg your pardon if there's been offense given."

Garret studied him narrowly for several moments before he relaxed his stance. At his side he noted that Berkeley was somewhat recovered, her breathing light and even and her color returned. "The earring, ma'am. I'll trouble you to produce it, then I'll trouble you no longer."

Berkeley refused the hand he extended. She came to her feet of her own accord, though she knew herself to be somewhat distracted, her thoughts still centered on Anderson's odd aside. "Give me a moment. I'll return with it shortly."

Garret's smile held no warmth although it was pleasant enough. "I insist on escorting you."

"Do you think that's wise?'' she asked, collecting the tattered threads of reason. "It's entirely likely that Grey is in our suite. Your presence would be difficult to explain."

"My brother left. We saw him go."

Anderson interrupted. "We've overstayed our welcome here. Berkeley's correct. Mr. Janeway may have returned. It would be better if I accompanied her. Janeway doesn't know me."

Garret hesitated. He had no wish to be seen by his brother, yet he did not fully trust Anderson Shaw or his wife. "Very well. A few minutes. No longer."

Anderson followed Berkeley to the door. With a gallant gesture, he opened it for her and indicated she should precede him. He felt her hesitation the moment she stepped into the hallway, and his eyes s.h.i.+fted to the narrow opening at the hinges. What he saw made him allow Berkeley to close the door behind her, leaving him to cool his heels with Garret.

Berkeley's smile was fixed. "Grey!" She wondered at her own success at injecting a measure of warmth in her voice. "I was just coming to meet you. I saw you arrive."

He stared at her, puzzled, but made no comment. Instead he bent his head and kissed her cheek. "You've forgiven me, then?"

Had Grey known it, he could have asked forgiveness for any number of transgressions, real or imagined. At the moment Berkeley couldn't remember a single detail of their earlier argument. She turned her face so that her lips brushed his and raised herself on tiptoes. Her mouth sought his mouth, and she denied the desperation she felt in a hot and hungry and urgent kiss. Her arms lifted and circled his neck.