To Love a Scoundrel (28 page)

Harry spun around, wide-eyed, and then frowned. "You? Why are you running around free? Where is Mr. Connors?''

"He's still up above, sir. He said I could come down here and apologize."

"Apologize? My dear girl, that will hardly make restitution for your crimes. I thought I made that clear to Mr. Connors."

Jewel shrugged, blinking her eyes, feigning an innocent demeanor. "Yes, I know all that, but after I told him about myself, he thought it would be best for me to talk with you. Then if you still want to prosecute me, you'll be within your rights."

Harry sniffed and raised his chin. "I don't know what you could possibly tell me about yourself that I would find of any interest."

"I think there might be one little thing. Do you suppose we could step outside and talk privately?"

"Hah. Do you think can get me alone and try to rob me before you jump ship? Think again, you little scamp, but I do admire your audacity."

Jewel shrugged. "Then I guess we'll just have to discuss it here in front of the other passengers."

Growing impatient, Harry snapped, "If you really must speak to me, be my guest, but I can't imagine why you wish to waste my time."

Taking another long, deep breath, she began. "Do you happen to remember a young woman you met around twenty-seven years ago by the name of Martha Flannery?"

Harry wrinkled his nose and brushed at her as if she were an annoying mosquito. "That is a very long time ago, my dear, but in any case, the name does not sound familiar to me."

Pushing her feelings and her outrage to a distant corner of her mind, Jewel hardened her heart and went for the kill. "Perhaps the name of my grandfather's bank, the Chicago National, and that of the Lillie safe you robbed are a bit more familiar."

His features alive with apprehension and alarm, he cocked one eyebrow and said, "I am no longer amused by you or your impudence."

"Forgive me for dredging up any, ah, memories that you prefer not to recall, but I'm trying to make a point here."

"That being?" he inquired breezily, his expression even haughtier and more aloof.

"Martha Flannery was my mother."

Harry stared at her for a long moment. "How terribly unfortunate for her."

Jewel gritted her teeth, but her eyes shone with triumph as she issued a hoarse laugh and said, "In many ways, I suppose having me was unfortunate for her, but I could turn out to be a real asset to you... Daddy."

Chapter 13

Harry grabbed his throat, choking on his breath, the drink, his heart. "Why, that's absolutely
ludicrous."

Jewel shrugged. Feeling in control, despite the fact that she was part of an actual performance of the drama she'd scripted so often in her imagination, she continued. "Knowing that you are my father has not been the highlight of my life, either, but it happens to be the truth."

Harry's mind instantly produced an image of his days—and nights—with Martha Flannery. Unable to hide a sudden rosy blush, he stole a sideways glance at the girl, and then violently shook his head. "No, I tell you. I simply could not be your father. There must be some mistake." He raised his chin, but was unable to bring his nose to its usually lofty position.

Jewel leaned in close and said, "Like it or not, I am the product of a liaison between my mother and one Harry Benton. Either you will accept that fact or I shall hop up on this bar and see if anyone else does."

"No, don't." Harry cast an anxious glance around the room, then slid off the stool. "I don't know where you heard that name or why you've decided to attach it to me, but you are quite out of line. Perhaps this conversation would benefit from some fresh air after all. I suggest we reconvene at the railing. Shall we?"

Now it was Jewel's turn to balk. "I may not be much good at sneaking into rooms, but that doesn't make me stupid. If I go out to that railing now after all I've just told you, you'll try to throw me overboard."

His gaze still bobbing from passenger to passenger, grateful to see none of those distinguished heads had been turned yet, Harry whispered, "Give me a little credit, my dear. Do I look like the violent type? Does this body look capable of such a deed?"

"Looks can be deceiving, Father dear."

Harry swallowed hard, studying her features as she spoke. He stared at the cool green of her eyes, the familiar freckled cheeks, the upturned nose, and gasped. "I'd say that in your case, my dear, looks are very revealing."

Certain now that he was ninety percent convinced her claim was authentic, Jewel added the final validation. "Excuse my poor grammar, sir, but you ain't seen nothin' yet." She tore off her lace gloves and tossed them on the bar.

"How many fingers can you count?" she said in a little girl voice as she held her hands in front of his face.

"Yipes." Harry gasped as her stunted pinkies wriggled like two little grubworms. "It's the Benton binkies."

Jewel's hands fell to her sides, and her eyebrows shot up. "The what? My, oh, my, did I have the right name for you after all, dear Father?"

But Harry was in shock, unable to say more at the moment. He stared down at her hands, his eyes glassy, and shook his head. "Bloody hell."

Now it was Jewel who glanced around the room, Jewel who noticed that others were beginning to take an interest in the little reunion. She slid one hand between Harry's ribs and elbow and steered him toward the doorway. "I think now would be a good safe time to get some air. You're looking a little sickly."

Dazed, Harry allowed her to lead him away, but before they could pass through the doorway, Reba intercepted them.

"Harry? Are you all right?" she asked, shooting suspicious glances Jewel's way.

"Oh, I just need some air," he managed.

Elbowing Jewel to one side, Reba glanced into Harry's glassy eyes and said, "The
Dawn'
s pulling away from the dock now, so I can't serve drinks for a few minutes. I wouldn't mind taking a little stroll around the promenade with you."

Himself again, or as close to himself as he would ever be in the future, Harry regained some control over his situation. Gently dislodging Reba's fingers, he said, "Thank you kindly for the offer, but I need a few moments of privacy with''—he glanced at Jewel, no longer certain how to refer to her, and finally shrugged—"this young lady. Do be a dear and understand. Perhaps we can take that stroll later?''

Jealousy flashed in Reba's eyes. She looked from Jewel to Harry, and then jerked her chin up a notch. "Perhaps," she said brusquely. "And perhaps not." Then, her hips rolling like a maverick rum barrel amidships, she squared her shoulders and sashayed back toward the bar.

"Now, that's one hell of a woman," Harry commented, blissfully able to forget Jewel and the revelation she represented for a small moment.

Uninterested in his love life, in anything about him unless it had to do with his capture, Jewel snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Shall we?" she said, inclining her head toward the railing.

"Yes, yes, of course," he answered slowly, back to reality.

As they walked, the
Delta Dawn
began to pull away from the dock, lurching as she struggled sideways against the current. Her legs nearly swept from beneath her, Jewel stumbled and almost fell, but she rejected Harry's attempt to help her.

Once the pair made it to the railing, they clung to it and turned to face each other, measuring, studying, waiting to see who would be first to comment.

Unable to gaze into the girl's eyes any longer, Harry looked away and stared out at the churning waters. His voice heavy with resignation and tinged with guilt, he finally said, "The day you read my tea leaves... you were trying to tell me then, weren't you?"

"Yes," she said quietly, working to disregard her feelings about this moment, trying only to play a role.

"I must have sounded like a barbaric dolt to you. I was terribly cruel, and for that I apologize."

Jewel shrugged it—
him
—off. "You didn't know your daughter was sitting across from you then. I imagine I've grown some since you last thought about me."

"Last I thought of you, my dear?" Harry said. "Today is the first I've ever heard of you, much less imagined that you might exist."

Trying to keep the cold hatred from her eyes, the curl off her upper lip, Jewel glanced across the water to the heavily wooded shore as the steamship made its way down the traffic lane toward Mississippi. How far would she have to go with this loving daughter masquerade? she wondered, agitated. How much could she manage? Again struggling to keep her voice calm and nonjudgmental, she said, "I heard that you knew all about me, that you couldn't wait to get your hands on my grandfather's money and leave town the minute you found out I was on the way."

"Well, then, you heard wrong," Harry insisted. "I don't know what your mother told you, but until a few moments ago I was blissfully unaware that I was anyone's father. Sorry if that sounds callous to you, my dear, but it is the truth. I never wanted or intended to have children. I was always careful, I thought, to preclude such a possibility."

"Oh, please," Jewel groaned. "Spare me the sordid details and the lies."

"Sorry, my dear, I don't mean to be indelicate, but I want you to understand that I never
meant
to leave your mother in such a state."

"But the fact is that you did, and you left her to face the wrath and disillusionment of her very unforgiving father."

"Again, I must object. Martha never even hinted about her predicament to me. I can't imagine why she told you that she did."

Even though Jewel knew him to be a liar and a thief, something in Harry's eyes gave her pause and kept her next remarks on the tip of her tongue. Was it possible he hadn't known about her all these years? Was he now granting her the rare favor of telling her the truth? Jewel tried to think back, to recall a segment from the childhood she'd buried in the recesses of her mind, but the memory wouldn't come forward. Who had told her about Harry? Who had drawn him as a bastard, her mother or her grandfather? Or both?

"I can't remember exactly what mother said," Jewel finally said, her confidence shaken."I just know that I am the bastard daughter of a bastard named Harry Benton, and I was treated as such."

"It might be best if you keep my real name to yourself for the time being, my dear," he suggested. Then, feeling a tenderness that surprised even him, he said softly, "As for your childhood, I do remember Lemuel Flannery quite well, and I am painfully aware of his capacity for cruelty. He was none too considerate of your poor mother even in the best of times. I can only imagine how beastly he must have been toward you."

Jewel's throat swelled painfully as acid tears formed behind her eyelids. Abruptly turning her head, she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. She had never dreamed that Harry might actually sympathize with her and understand what had driven her to this hatred and to her unrelenting need for revenge. Would he also guess her true purpose and ruin her plans before she could put them into action? She choked back a sudden sob, but then stiffened as she felt his hand brush her shoulder.

"I wish I could find a way to wipe the indignities you must have suffered during your childhood, my dear. I realize it's too little too late, but I wish I could do something."

In spite of her struggles against them, the sobs increased and Jewel's shoulders began to tremble. Stop it, Jewel railed silently. Stop pretending that you care. I know you don't. You could never understand the torment of living with a grandfather who viewed you as vermin. You can't imagine begging for attention from an apathetic grandmother who didn't dare disagree with him, nor could you bear the pain of an adoring mother who could show her love for you only when no one else was around.

The girl's anguish, or whatever she was feeling, alarmed and touched Harry. For the first time in his life, he found himself unable to fathom a woman's mood. The only thing he knew for sure was that this woman, his daughter, was definitely in need of comfort. But how should he proceed? What could he do? What would a father do?

Feeling awkward and uncharacteristically humble, Harry reached for her. His hands hovered above her trembling shoulders for several indecisive moments before he finally gripped her and turned her around. Pulling her into his arms, he said soothingly, "There, now, my dear. We shall get this straightened out. You will be all right, and I shall find a way to... to do right by you."