Her Defiant Heart (39 page)

"There's nothing strange about that. I've seen him there before. He's usually with Maggie."

"Yes, yes," William said impatiently. "But that's not my point. This New Year's Eve he began his night with Maggie and ended up with another woman entirely. Maggie said she was a maid. Marshall said she was a thief. You saw her through the peep and said she was a whore.
And Amalie Chatham swears she's my stepdaughter." He found a cigar in his pocket, clipped off the end, and tossed it into the fire. "If Amalie's right, then you saw Christian Marshall bedding your sister."

"Stepsister," Stephen said. "Let's not forget there's no blood between us."

William waved aside Stephen's interruption. "Don't you see? You might not have recognized her that night, but Marshall surely would have known who was straddling his thighs. How could he have been that close to her and not realized that his whore was the Jane Doe patient from the hospital?"

"Then that means Amalie was mistaken in her identification. That really makes the most sense to me, Father." Stephen picked up his coat and hat. "If you had seen what that whore was doing to Marshall and what he was doing to her, you would not entertain notions about her being my dear,
dear
stepsister. Caroline was not precisely warm to the idea of a man between her legs."

"Arrogant pup," William said after his son was out of earshot. "It was
you
she didn't want between her legs." He lit his cigar and puffed on it thoughtfully. William believed he knew what had to be done even if Stephen didn't. Vigilance was required, and the person to start with was the one closest to the family. Wilton Reilly.

* * *

Stephen shuddered his pleasure into Maggie Bryant and then rolled away and onto his back. He stared at her in the mirror, his narrow smile one of complete satisfaction. "You were quite something tonight," he said.

Maggie's fingers touched the tips of her aroused breasts and she shivered slightly. She stretched with feline grace. She turned on her hip and rested one slender arm on Stephen's chest. "You were rather, um, energetic yourself this evening. Quite fierce actually."

He had been thinking about his stepsister, wondering if his father had been right. Had she really been the one spreading her legs for Christian Marshall? It did not seem possible. She was such a cold bitch around him. Sometimes her manner put Stephen off, other times it was all he could do to keep from throwing up her underskirts and burying himself inside her. He doubted she would be so cold then. Just thinking about it made him grow hard again. He drew Maggie's hand to his cock and showed her what he wanted. When her hand was not enough, he told her to use her mouth.

Stephen watched her in the mirror. Maggie glided over his chest, teasing him with her lips and teeth. Her soft hair caressed his skin. He stopped thinking it was Maggie who was giving him this pleasure. Instead he envisioned another woman, one with wide doe eyes and sable brown hair. It was to that woman that Stephen Bennington gave his seed.

It did not matter to Maggie who Stephen thought she was. Amalie had given her explicit instructions. Satisfy young Bennington and then get him to talk about his stepsister. Maggie accepted Amalie's orders without questioning them. She knew that remaining at Amalie's parlor house hung in the balance. If she was successful with Stephen, then her future was secure. Maggie was confident she would know so much about Stephen's family when she was through that Amalie would positively be bored with all the information. Getting Stephen to talk had to be less difficult than pleasing him—and that had certainly been easy enough this evening. He was in rare form.

Moving so that her lips brushed his ear and her breath was warm against his skin, Maggie told him that.

Chapter 11

"I did not think you were ever going to get here," Jenny said, letting Wilton Reilly into the spacious sitting room of her suite. "When you didn't come yesterday, I began to worry."

"You said Friday or Saturday." He removed his coat and gave it to Jenny. He dropped his hat and scarf on the three-legged table by the door. "I really did try to be here yesterday, but there were problems."

Jenny paused in hanging up the coat. "Problems? You mean household problems, don't you?"

The butler shook his head. His dark eyes conveyed sympathy. "I am afraid not. Mr. Bennington's hired someone to follow me."

Jenny's lips parted, but she gave no sound to her surprise. She quickly hung the coat and hugged herself to hide the trembling in her fingertips . "How do you know?"

"The same way I know most things that happen in that house," he said. "One of the maids overheard Mr. William giving the man his instructions. She came to me right away. Of course Martha doesn't understand the exact nature of what she heard, and I did not enlighten her. I told her that Mr. William was looking for an excuse to let me go. That satisfied her."

The suite was not cold, but Jenny shivered nonetheless. She sank slowly into an upholstered rocker while Reilly took a seat on the gilded chair opposite her. Jenny's toes pushed against the red and gray patterned carpet so that her chair rocked back and forth gently. Winter sunlight came through the sheer ivory curtains and parted drapes and touched the curve of her cheek. She tilted her head to one side so she could feel its warmth. Pointing to the low table between them, Jenny offered her guest the refreshments she had ordered from the hotel dining room.

"Nothing for me," she said when Reilly looked at her expectantly as he poured his own tea. "Who is this man my stepfather hired?"

"No one to worry about. He's just a copper trying to earn some extra money."

"A copper?" Jenny found it difficult to swallow. "Someone local?"

"Yes. I don't think Mr. William realizes I say hello to Liam O'Shea two or three times a week while I'm out walking. O'Shea apparently did not mention that he is acquainted with me. He would not have been given the job otherwise. What's the matter? You don't look well." Reilly set down his cup and leaned forward anxiously. "Can I get you something?" When Jenny shook her head, Reilly's thin lips flattened in disapproval. "It's obvious that you're upset. I hope you don't think that I would be so foolish as to allow O'Shea to follow me here. That is precisely why I did not come yesterday. I could not get rid of him."

"And today?"

"I surprised him by changing my routine. I took a hack. He couldn't follow."

"Be careful, Mr. Reilly. Liam O'Shea knows me."

Reilly frowned. "How can that be? You were so rarely out of the house, and then you went to the hospital. How could he possibly know you? He has not been walking this particular beat for very long."

"Just a minute," Jenny said, raising her hand. "I don't think I understand something. Did you and the rest of the staff know I was in the hospital?"

"Well, yes," he drawled a trifle uncertainly. "Mr. William told us you were at New York Hospital. We were not allowed to visit, of course."

"Of course," Jenny said. She felt the stirrings of anger in the pit of her stomach. "Because I wasn't there. My stepfather had me committed to Jennings... the lunatic ward."

The butler paled. "When the last of the doctors came and you were carried out, he only explained that you were seriously ill. A fever, they told us. He said you would have better care in the hospital, which we all knew was untrue, but it never occurred to us that he was putting you away with the lunatics. We would not have stood for that."

"Don't you think he knew?" Jenny asked softly. She reached out to touch the butler's hand, laying her fingers across his white-knuckled fist. "When I escaped the ward, the body of some poor woman in the Five Points was mistaken for mine. That gave my stepfather the opportunity to announce that I had died as a result of my long illness. The long illness was his doing, but he truly believes I am dead." She withdrew her hand. "I've been staying with some very kind people who know next to nothing about me, Mr. Reilly. I met Liam O'Shea while I was living there."

"Then you've been living somewhere near Fifth Avenue, north of Thirty-fifth Street. That's the area O'Shea walks."

"I think you missed your calling," she said, smiling faintly. "You should have been a detective."

"You are not going to tell me who you were with?"

"No," she said firmly. "No, I'm not. I've left him... them." She corrected herself quickly, but it was not quickly enough. The butler's raised eyebrows warned her he had heard her misstep. "Please, Mr. Reilly, I want to keep it all separate. It's as if I have had two lives."

"What about Liam O'Shea?" he asked. "You said he knows you."

"But not as William Bennington's stepdaughter. Only as Jenny Holland. He thinks I'm a maid."

"Jenny Holland," he mused, raising his eyes to hers. The look he gave her was cautionary. "Don't be so clever that you set a trap for yourself."

"I've been careful."

"Not careful enough, I am thinking. Haven't you wondered why Mr. William has O'Shea at my back?" He told her about the encounter with Stephen after his first meeting with her. "I won't be able to come here often. The risk would be too great. If you require my assistance, then you will have to let me know through the
Herald.
"

"I don't think I want to do that anymore. I am not as confident about the method as I used to be." Jenny found it difficult to focus her thoughts. It concerned her that Stephen thought for even a moment that he had seen her with Reilly. Then there was the incident at Amalie's in which she had almost been exposed. Just the memory of standing on the other side of Maggie's door listening to the conversation in the hallway put ice in her spine. Still, all these weeks later, it alarmed her to know she had been within a few feet of Stephen and William Bennington. Only Christian's quickly constructed lies and Maggie's balcony had saved her from being discovered.

Jenny poured herself a cup of tea. "It would be better if you wrote to me here. Get a box at the post office and let me know the number. I'll contact you that way. Then we don't have to worry that Stephen or William will open your mail." She sipped her tea slowly. "There is something else you should know, Mr. Reilly. My stepfather might have more than Stephen's sighting to give him cause to doubt I am dead." Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper as she related the events of New Year's Eve. She told the butler everything except Christian's name and what had occurred between them. That private memory she kept for herself.

Reilly listened to Jenny's tale and his consternation grew. When she finished, he was shaking his head and rubbing the bald spot at the back of it. "I don't like it," he said. "Don't like it at all. I don't know what you made of it, but it seems clear to me that Amalie Chatham thought she recognized you."

"Once I thought about it, that's what I concluded as well. But how, Mr. Reilly? I've never met Mrs. Chatham before in my life."

"I should say not," he said stiffly. "The tart."

Smiling faintly, Jenny set her cup of tea on the table. "I see you have no more of an idea than I do. Never mind. It doesn't really matter any longer, and I can't think that it's very important. I'm not likely to meet her again."

Reilly's agreement was offered reluctantly. "Is your equipment satisfactory?" he asked, changing the subject. "Do you have everything you need?"

She nodded. "I've gone through everything and it's all there—exactly what I wanted. You're quite marvelous, do you know that?" The ruddy color that flushed the loyal retainer's cheeks caused Jenny to laugh softly. "I mean it, Mr. Reilly. I wouldn't be able to set on this course without you."

"Do not remind me. I'm not certain I want to be responsible for whatever it is you've been scheming."

"You are not responsible," she said firmly.

The butler snorted lightly, his dark eyes skeptical. "That's not the way I see it." He glanced at the pendulum clock noisily ticking away on the opposite wall. "I regret I cannot stay longer and talk sense to you." He sighed. "It would probably be a waste of my breath. You were always softhearted and headstrong." His palms pushed against his knees as he stood. "Are there other items you require?"

"I have all the equipment I need," she said. "But I would be grateful if you would send some items from my wardrobe. I only have two dresses, a few undergarments, and one pair of shoes. The extra money my employer gave me at Christmas was spent on a cloak and a scarf. I'm afraid I didn't budget it very well." Her smile was rueful. "Having to worry about money has proven to be a humbling experience. And now that the night clerk thinks I am a prostitute, I will have to have some funds set aside just to keep him quiet."