Jo Goodman (57 page)

Colin's dark eyes narrowed. "They got out and you didn't."

Nat nodded. He pointed to the window in Colin's room. "The Janeways' rooms face the front, same as yours. They have a balcony, though. That's where I went. Mrs. Janeway saw the fire and me and Pandora and got help. I was hanging on to Rhea. Did you see her when you came in?"

"The figurehead," said Decker. "Yes, we saw her."

"Well, she held me steady until Mr. Janeway got up to me. He lowered me over the side of the balcony." Nat shrugged. "And here I am. That's what Sam meant when he said I saw more than most others that night." He started to get up again. The glint from Decker's ice-blue eyes put him right back in his place. Nat's fingers tapped on his kneecaps. "I'd like to learn a trick or two now."

An easy smile edged Decker's mouth but didn't reach his eyes. "I'm certain you would. But I think you're stopping short of the whole. How was the fire put out, for instance?"

"A miracle, most folks say. Mrs. Janeway had been praying pretty hard for one, though she says she didn't have any intuition that it was about to happen. The same northeast wind that was causing so much trouble with the fire swept in a storm. The skies opened up and everyone standing in that square got drenched. It didn't take but another twenty minutes for the fire to fizzle out. It could have been different without the rain. The entire city's been in flames before."

"That's what we heard," said Colin. "It seems as though the Ducks intended it to happen again."

"That's a fact," Nat told him. "They pick their times real well. Wind from the north and east can do damage to every part of the city except Sydney Town. They know how to save themselves. Of course they hadn't counted on the rain. No one had. Not even Mrs. Janeway. Jolly and Bobby Burns got out of the Phoenix through the kitchen and made it back to Sydney Town easy enough, but they weren't too hard to corral when Sam Brannan's Vigilante Committee went after them. The Ducks didn't think I'd be alive to point a finger at them."

Colin realized immediately what this child had risked by coming forward. "That showed a lot of courage."

Nat screwed his mouth to one side. "Everyone says that," he said. "But here's what I don't get: How come it was brave for me to point them out so Brannan's men could hang them and foolish for me to follow them into the Phoenix in the first place?"

"There's a conundrum," Decker said sympathetically. He flipped the coin he'd been manipulating in Nat's direction. "Foolishness and courage. Could be they're two sides of the same coin."

Nat looked down at the gold piece in his hand. Heads. He turned it over carefully. Heads again. His eyes lifted in Decker's direction with frank awe.

Decker grinned. "Something to think about, isn't it?"

Colin sighed. "Now you've corrupted the boy."

"Oh, no, my lord," Nat said earnestly. "I was corrupted a ways back. Sam says it's not his damn fault, but Mrs. Janeway says she's not so sure."

Decker laughed outright. Colin's smile was more reserved. "We were led to believe that you're a Janeway."

"Oh, I am," Nat said proudly. He jumped to his feet and jammed Decker's coin in his pocket. "Can't stay. Sam'll be wondering what's keeping me. Maybe you could show me those tricks later." He ducked his head quickly, avoiding the pair of eyes that had been able to keep him rooted before. Without waiting for Decker's reply or Colin's objections, Nat hurried out of the room.

Colin pushed himself up higher against the headboard. He raised one brow in his brother's direction. "What do you make of that?"

"Another conundrum."

Colin pulled the pillow from under his head and threw it hard.

* * *

There were triple the number of people in the gaming hall when Colin and Decker returned to it that evening. They had no particular plan as they descended the stairs. They had already traveled a great distance on the basis of a single letter sent to Decker months earlier. The author of the note did not identify himself or sign his name. He never mentioned Berkeley Shaw. What was clear, perhaps the only thing that was clear, was that he believed he needed to be cautious. If Decker or Colin Thorne wanted information about an heirloom earring, he wrote, one or both of them should come to San Francisco and register at the Phoenix. He thought he
might
be able to help them.

It was not the content that intrigued Decker when he received the missive, but the handwriting. He had only one example of Graham Denison's script: his signature in the ship's log when he had boarded the Remington
Siren.
There was enough of a match to raise Decker's hopes. He delayed his trip to wait for Colin. He couldn't imagine making this last leg of a very long journey without his brother.

No matter what the outcome of the search, the brothers shared the understanding that it ended here.

They saw her simultaneously, their eyes drawn in her direction first by the circle of men standing at attention, then by the reason for their attention. She was every bit the diamond in a bed of black velvet. Although she stood only shoulder height to most of the miners and gamblers, she stood out. It could have been the corn silk brightness of her hair against their dark clothes or the radiance of her complexion compared to their ruddier hues, but Colin and Decker didn't think so. It was not any one thing, but the whole of her, from the fey charm of her leaf green eyes to the laughter that broadened her smile.

This woman was a revelation to them.

Berkeley's eyes lifted slowly to the staircase. For the span of a heartbeat she could not think or feel or move. Darkness pushed at the edges of her consciousness. She wished she could faint, but her knees, locked in position, held her stiffly upright, and then she was breathing normally, just as if nothing were different than it had been one moment earlier.

Except something
was
different. Perhaps everything. They were here, in the hotel among the guests, and they were coming toward her.

"Mrs. Shaw," Colin said politely. He and Decker had made their way to the inner circle because Berkeley had been unable to look away from them. Her rapt attention did not go unnoticed by any of the men surrounding her. At first they were indecisive, uncertain if they should move in to protect her or step out of the way. In the end they chose the step backward.

Berkeley held out her hand. "It's Mrs. Janeway now," she said.

Colin continued to lift her hand smoothly, but he did not think she missed his surprise. He kissed her hand. "Mrs. Janeway," he repeated softly. "You remember my brother?"

"Of course." When Colin released her hand she extended it to Decker. "Captain Thorne."

"Mrs. Janeway." He was as gallant in his attentions as his brother. "We've heard your praises sung almost from the moment we arrived. You can imagine that stories about a woman who seemed to be able to predict a disaster intrigued us."

Berkeley felt her smile faltering. "I imagine you would like an explanation."

"That comes to mind. Tell me, is there a Mr. Janeway?"

"We should go upstairs," she said. Her eyes darted to the men around her, and she smiled apologetically. "I doubt I'll be back down this evening." Berkeley ignored the murmur of disappointment. "This way."

Colin noticed that she seemed unaware of how the crowd parted for her. He and Decker were not. What was it Sam had told them earlier?
She more or less runs the Phoenix. Mostly more. Not much gets by her.
Behind her back Colin and Decker exchanged a look. Bankrolled by Thorne money, it appeared Berkeley and Anderson Shaw had done very well for themselves.

Berkeley climbed the stairs ahead of them, very much aware of their eyes boring into her back. She did not fault them for their anger. It was the most natural reaction when they understood so very little. For the benefit of those in the crowd still watching her, she continued to smile. It was the best way to protect Colin and Decker Thorne.

At the top of the stairs Berkeley paused and allowed them to flank her. "You must know that I was surprised to see you. No one told me that you were here. Are you registered guests of the Phoenix?"

"Mr. Pine and Mr. Pine," Decker said.

She nodded. "That explains it. Then you would be the one who impressed Nat with your sleight of hand. He was so excited trying to show me what he'd seen that I didn't stop him to discover the details." Berkeley turned her head so she could see Decker more clearly. "Why now? It's been more than six months since my husband wrote to you, Captain Thorne. Even accounting for the length of the voyage, it's been longer than I would have expected."

Decker's steps faltered. "Your husband wrote to me?"

Berkeley's brows drew together slightly as she sensed Decker's distress. "Yes, of course he did."

"Are we talking about the same correspondence?" he asked.

They had reached the door to her suite. "I imagine that we are. I never saw it, but he told me about it. I suspect he was too cautious and cryptic. Was that the reason for the delay? You weren't certain what to make of it?"

Colin twisted the handle and pushed open the door. "That would sum it up nicely," he said. He gestured Berkeley inside. "After you, Mrs. Shaw."

She hesitated. He had used her former name quite deliberately, Berkeley was sure of it. Had they somehow been in contact with Anderson? She hadn't considered that the Thornes would want to make trouble for her. "Janeway," she corrected softly.

"Yes," Colin said humorlessly. "I hadn't forgotten."

Berkeley was startled by his barely leashed anger. She wished his wife had accompanied him to temper it. It was difficult to be mindful of her manners. She ushered them into the sitting room. "Please, won't you sit down?" She gestured to the cream-brocade settee and wing chairs. "Would either or both of you like a drink? The Scotch is plentiful, but the bourbon is almost gone." Berkeley raised one of the decanters on the sideboard and held it up for their approval. "Whiskey? I can ring for tea or some other liquor if—"

"Sit down," Colin said.

Berkeley dropped like a stone into the rocker behind her. It creaked once, and then she held it still. The flush that had been in her cheeks when they surprised her in the gaming hall was gone now. She felt as if all of her blood had pooled in her feet. They were leaden weights that kept her in place in spite of her wish to be anywhere else. What was troubling with these men? The Thornes were acting as if she'd done something wrong.

Searching for patience, Colin raked back his hair. Threads the color of sunshine fell forward over his brow, and this time he let them be. Now that he had her seated and quiet he had no idea where to begin. The explanations were clearly hers to make, yet he didn't think he wanted to hear anything she had to say just now. He swore softly as she continued to stare up at him. "Say something," he told his brother.

Decker's mouth twisted wryly. He had been looking around the sitting room, searching for some sign that a fire had swept through the suite. It wasn't apparent at first that his brother was talking to him. Decker pointed to the balcony. "Is that where Nat made his escape?" he asked.

Berkeley was bewildered by his interest but she answered. "You're talking about the fire?"

"Yes. Your
son
told us something of what happened here."

She didn't care at all for the way he spoke of Nat. "Yes, that's where he went," she said. Then, because they seemed to be expecting more from her she added, "You realize that Nat isn't my son by birth."

"Oh, Colin and I both came to that conclusion, having made your acquaintance in Boston, but we wonder that you've gone to the trouble of taking the boy in. Surely there were easier ways for you and your husband to hide than by assuming a ready-made family."

Berkeley's eyes widened at his tone. "We took him in because we love him, not because we're hiding behind him. Really, Captain Thorne, you and your brother would be the last ones from whom I would expect such a jaundiced view. Where would either of you be if no one had shown an interest in you as children?"

"Dead," Colin said bluntly. "We would have both died in Cunnington's Workhouse."

Decker didn't disagree with his brother. He couldn't. "Forgive me, Mrs. Janeway, but your husband never struck me as a particularly compassionate man."

"How can you say that?" she demanded. "You were the one who told me about his—" She stopped. From the bedroom she heard a familiar cry. The response in her was instantaneous.

Berkeley's breasts swelled and beneath her sapphire evening gown she felt sweet droplets of milk dampen her chemise. Colin and Decker would have to physically restrain her to keep her away from her child. She didn't think it would come to that. Berkeley got to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, that's Rhea's hungry wail. I have to attend to my daughter."

She brushed past them, sweeping grandly from the sitting room into the small library.

Decker looked at Colin. "Rhea?" he asked. "Did she say her daughter's name was Rhea?"

"That's what she said."

"Did
you
hear a baby cry?"

"No, but then Mercedes says I never did when our children were infants. She, on the other hand, could hear them crying in another county."

Decker ignored most of what Colin said. "I didn't hear a baby. And who names their child after Neptune's mother?" He was starting to move in the direction of the adjoining room. "She thinks quickly, Colin. I'll wager she has another way out of this suite."