Her Defiant Heart (45 page)

"Yes," he said without apology. "I said you didn't make it easy to find you, but it wasn't impossible either." Christian's smile was faintly wicked. "And I was determined."

"But you never—"

He anticipated her question. "I didn't come to see you because I wasn't ready. There was the matter of your portrait, don't forget. You set the terms. Once I knew you were safe, I had to decide what I was willing to do in order to have you again. I began sketching out of some notion of spite, to prove something to you. In the end, I did the drawings out of love and proved something to myself."

Jenny blinked rapidly, damming the tears that came so easily to the surface now. She pointed to her eyes as salty droplets fell anyway and apologized, "Happy tears." Picking up a pillow, she held it pressed to her chest and brushed her damp cheeks against the white cotton case. "Tell me about Mr. Reilly," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "You started to tell me you followed him from here."

Christian nodded. His eyes darted over Jenny's ashen face. He believed her when she said the tears were happy ones, but he couldn't help thinking that she was hiding something else. There were pale, violet shadows under her eyes; the skin of her face was stretched taut. He had already acknowledged her weight loss, and now he saw how fragile her wrists were as she clutched the pillow. Compared to Jane Doe of the treatment room, Jenny's health was robust. But when Christian thought back to the last time he had seen her, he knew she was ill now.

"Christian?"

"What? Oh... sorry. I was thinking about something else." He gathered the threads of his wits. "Joe and I followed Reilly back to the Benningtons. Your friend changed hacks three times."

"He suspected he was being followed."

"True, but not by me. He thought O'Shea might spot him."

"You know about Liam?" she asked, astonished.

"Before I met O'Shea in front of the Benningtons," he said, "the only thing I knew about him was that you enjoyed his company when you went walking."

Something in his tone made her ask, "You were jealous?"

"Sick with it," he said. He saw Jenny shake her head, her expression at once rueful and disbelieving. "I know. It's a humbling state of mind to be so needy. In time I came to learn O'Shea had been hired by William Bennington to follow Reilly."

"Who told you that?"

"O'Shea did. But he didn't know the exact nature of what prompted Bennington to hire him. He thought it might have something to do with thefts within the house."

"Thefts?" Was it possible her stepfather had actually missed the items Reilly stole for her? "You mean Mr. Bennington thought Reilly was guilty of stealing?"

"No," Christian said. "I mean O'Shea thought that's why he had been hired. William Bennington never confided in him, except to say that O'Shea was to track the butler whenever he left the house." Under the blanket Christian absently massaged his leg. "I never accepted O'Shea's theory. It seemed to me that Bennington was using Reilly to find you."

Jenny's mouth was very dry. She couldn't swallow. "Why would you think that?"

"Several things," he said. "There were a number of events, which when viewed separately seem to have no bearing on you, yet Scott and I finally realized it was rather like not being able to see the forest for the trees."

Jenny bit her lower lip. "I wish you had not involved Dr. Turner."

"That's an odd request considering he's been involved since the beginning. If it hadn't been for him..." Christian let Jenny finish the sentence for herself. "Susan as well. She's the one who actually pointed out the forest."

Jenny sighed. "Perhaps you'd better explain about this forest. I'm sure I don't understand."

Christian doubted that. He could almost see Jenny's mind working furiously as she tried to recall events that would have connected her to the Benningtons. "I'm sure you haven't forgotten New Year's Eve," he said, raising one brow. "No? I thought not. And you know I'm not referring to what happened
in
Maggie's room. I'm talking about what went on afterwards, out in the hallway. Tell me, when did you run to the balcony and hide? When you heard Stephen, or when his father arrived?"

She shrugged, refusing to answer, and clutched the pillow closer to her chest.

"It doesn't matter," said Christian. "I was just curious. I never gave it a thought when it happened. It didn't occur to me then that you might actually know either of the Benningtons. I had more or less concluded that you hid because of Amalie's intentions. Now I realize that was only part of it." Christian stuffed a pillow behind the small of his back and the headboard. He crossed his arms in front of him and regarded Jenny thoughtfully. "The day after you left me, while I was at Susan's enlisting her help, Scott was called to Dr. Morgan's office." The stillness that settled about Jenny was that of a cornered fawn. Christian wanted to reach for her, but he suspected she would bolt. Instead he ticked off the next points on his fingers. "William and Stephen were leaving the office as he went in. From Morgan's secretary Scott found out they were large contributors to the hospital trust and had been since October. When Scott finally spoke to Morgan, he was informed that there was a possibility that the Jane Doe patient was still alive."

Jenny blinked once and continued to stare steadily at Christian. Inside, her stomach heaved.

"Odd, isn't it?" Christian asked. "The Benningtons again. And benefactors to Jennings Memorial since October? Scott was struck hard by that. Jane Doe arrived at Jennings only a few weeks after the Benningtons became philanthropists. The Benningtons are not noted for philanthropy, by the way."

"I'd heard that," Jenny said, for want of anything better to say.

"And finally there was Mr. Reilly, who brought us round to the Benningtons again. Those events were the trees. As Susan said, 'Bennington seems to be the name of the forest.' Would you agree?"

Jenny's eyes darted away. "I might."

"And what if I tell you this? I know, for instance, that you have some sort of photographic studio set up in here. I assume it's in the other bedroom."

"Assume?"
she asked, arching an eyebrow. "Don't you mean you explored it while I was in my bath?"

Christian simply went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I also know that directly across the street from you is First Hancock Savings and Trust. Interesting, don't you think, that William Bennington is the president of that bank?" He felt the full force of Jenny's wariness as she sat silently, offering nothing. He sighed. "Jenny? Can you not trust me at all? Aren't you going to tell me what it is you're doing?"

Her mouth flattened mutinously.

"I see," he said, disappointed. "I had not realized how selfish you are."

Jenny was too surprised by that pronouncement to say anything for a moment. Finally she asked, "What do you mean?"

Now Christian shrugged, affecting an indifference he didn't feel. "Only that you are the worst kind of giver—the one who will not take anything in return."

"One does not do favors with the expectation of receiving," she said a shade piously, as if reciting something from a catechism. "It's not right."

"I am not talking about anything so paltry as doing favors," he said evenly. "That does not begin to describe what you've done for me. And I am not talking about expectations. It is one thing not to expect anything in return, quite another to refuse something when it's offered. That is what makes you selfish. You get pleasure from giving, but you will not allow me to have the same pleasure."

"Whatever I did, I did because I love you."

"Damn—I mean, darnation, Jenny! What the—what the
whatever
do you think I am doing it for?" He rubbed his temples, shaking his head at the same time. "God! Listen to me. I can't believe I'm talking like..." He stopped because Jenny was in his arms again, laughing and crying and kissing him as she'd done when he had first said he loved her. Christian did not understand, but he accepted his good fortune and wrapped his arms around her. "Jenny... Jenny... let me help you. I
want
to help. Don't turn me out."

"Just hold me," she said, curving her body against his and quieting in his arms. Her fingers fiddled with the knot between her breasts. "Hold me. That will help for now."

So Christian held her. He stroked her back, his fingers sifted through her hair. And he waited for Jenny to confide in him. Occasionally he glanced down at her, just to make certain she hadn't fallen asleep. He kissed her forehead and her lashes fluttered. He saw he had managed to interrupt her thoughts and raise a smile.

"I still do not want to get married," she said.

"All right."

"I have to stay here. I need to be near the bank."

"Are you going to tell me why?"

"William Bennington and his son are stealing from it."

"You're certain?"

"Yes."

Christian heard the conviction in Jenny's voice and believed her. He nodded thoughtfully. "There were rumors about the bank a while back. Nothing about embezzlement, just about the trust not being as sound as it should be."

"It wasn't a rumor. It was—is—true. But the embezzlement is only a small part of it. Apparently Mr. Bennington made a number of bad investments as the war drew to an end."

"How do you know this?"

"How does anyone in service know anything?" she asked. It did not sit well that she was still keeping things from him, but she saw no clear way to the truth. "We listen at doors."

"I take it you were caught?"

"Yes."

"And drugged?"

"I think so. I'm not certain what was done to me, only that it was done gradually. I didn't know I had been found out, you see. I did not suspect anything until it was too late to apply for help. I was told I was going mad, and there were days when I believed it."

"Didn't the other servants suspect? Mr. Reilly?"

"I was fairly, umm, isolated from the others. Mr. Bennington made it seem as though he cared about the welfare of his staff. He hired a special attendant for me, and Dr. Morgan visited several times. Eventually I was taken away. Everyone was told I was going to the city hospital. Instead I was taken to a cellar lodging room somewhere in the Five Points. I don't really remember much about that... I could have been there hours or days. I was completely delirious by then."

Jenny was thankful for Christian's closeness now. She needed his warmth, his acceptance. "Some men took me to Jennings."

"Dead Rabbits."

"That's what I was told. I could never identify them."

"It's just as well. They'd kill you if they thought you could." He laid his hand on her bare shoulder as she shivered. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's all right. It's nothing that I haven't already thought of. I never understood why Mr. Bennington didn't have me killed then." But she
had
understood. Jenny knew precisely why she hadn't been murdered for what she had overheard, but it was part of what she wanted to keep from Christian.

"It would appear to have been the expedient thing to do," Christian said, thinking it over. "Maybe he intended for you to die while you were in Jennings."

"Perhaps." Jenny knew differently. If the treatments had actually killed her it would have been an accident, the result of Dr. Glenn's zeal and the attendants' ineptitude. William hadn't wanted her dead then, though Jenny thought he had probably changed his mind by now. "But you and Dr. Turner saw that it didn't happen." Jenny ran her palm along Christian's forearm. Her fingers intertwined with his. "I don't know what Dr. Turner ever saw that made him suspect I was sane," she said wonderingly. "He only saw me briefly, and I did not even know my own name then. After Dr. Glenn started treating me, I knew it was only a matter of time before I ended up like the others on the ward."

She was probably right, Christian thought, remembering Jenny as he had first seen her. She had been near the edge of madness. His fingers squeezed hers. "Why haven't you gone to the police with your story?"

Jenny raised her head just long enough to give Christian an eyeful of amazement. "I cannot believe you asked me that," she said. "This is New York, Christian. Mr. Bennington doesn't buy coppers. He owns their superiors. Going to the police would be like signing my own commitment papers to Jennings. I'd as soon kill myself."

Christian didn't comment on her last statement, but he knew he wouldn't forget it either. "So the police are out. What does that leave?"

"Can't you guess? You are one of them."

He puzzled over that for several long moments before he swore softly under his breath. "You mean the newspaper, don't you? That's where you want to take your story."

Jenny nodded. "I don't know any other way to get a fair hearing. As far as I know the city's papers are still independent. They are the one place where Mr. Bennington has no influence."

"All right," Christian said. "I'll take the story to the
Chronicle.
We'll print it."

"I knew you were going to be difficult," she said, sighing.

He frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. "Difficult? I thought I was doing exactly what you wanted.
The
Chronicle
will run the story. Front page. Unlike Bennington, the paper's the only place I
do
have some influence."