Jo Goodman (33 page)

"One might think you were expecting me today," she said.

Jack laughed. "The work's been eight days done. By my reckoning, Mr. Caplin's changed the flowers three times so they'd be fresh."

Jonna smiled, pleased by her secretary's thoughtfulness. "You've outdone yourself, Jack. You have the cost figures, of course."

"Of course." Jack couldn't help himself. He was grinning broadly. Before Jonna could ask him what foolish notion he had taken into his head, he said simply, "Damn, if it's not good to have you back at the helm. Cost figures, indeed."

Decker was waiting for them outside the warehouse with a rented hack. He opened the door for Jonna and held out one hand to assist her inside. "I take it you liked what you saw."

She nodded. "Am I so obvious?"

"Not often." Decker thought she seemed unaccountably pleased by his answer. He leaned in the carriage, made certain she was seated comfortably, then turned to greet Jack. His hand was grasped warmly. "Good to see you, Jack. It seems you've pleased her highness."

"I heard that," Jonna called from the carriage.

"I intended you to," Decker replied.

Jack laughed. "Still sparring, I see. Don't know why I thought that might change." He pointed behind him to the warehouse. "Do you want to see the renovations?"

"Later," Decker said. "Right now I want to go home."

"Sure. Shall I get another hack for you?"

"Not necessary."

Jonna leaned forward and caught Jack's attention. "Captain Thorne is coming with me."

Jack's thick brows drew together first; then one lifted archly, squeezed to that higher piano by the strength of his confusion. "Decker's place is not exactly on the way."

Decker glanced back at Jonna. "You didn't tell him."

She merely shook her head. How could she explain that there had never seemed an appropriate moment?

"Tell me what?" Jack wanted to know.

Decker climbed into the carriage and signaled the driver to go. He leaned out the window as the hack began to move. "I'll be sharing Mrs. Thorne's Beacon Hill address from now on."

Jack stood rooted to the wharf, clearly dumbfounded. "Sharing an address?" he said to himself. The carriage was turning the corner when he found his larger voice. "Mrs. Thorne?" he shouted after them. "What the hell does
that
mean?"

Jonna's mouth flattened disapprovingly as she looked at Decker. He was leaning casually back against the leather cushions, for all appearances completely at his ease and pleased with himself. "You might have found some discreet way of breaking the news." Jack's voice was still ringing in her ears.

"I said I would hire a town crier," he reminded her. "Consider Jack the first if you don't change your ways."

"I had every intention of telling him."

"Then you shouldn't be sorry he knows now."

"You made it sound as if we're going to be living together."

"We are."

"But you made it sound..." Words failed her. "You might at least have the decency to look less pleased with yourself. This news is going to cover the ground more quickly than our hack. I shouldn't be at all surprised if Mrs. Davis knows before we arrive."

Decker doubted she was very concerned about that possibility. "Afraid Sheridan will learn of it first from someone else?"

"Not afraid," she said. "Apprehensive. I already told you I didn't want that to happen. I believe I owe Grant something more than a rumor."

Unapologetic and unsympathetic, Decker said, "Then you'll have to tell him sooner rather than later." He settled his head back and closed his eyes, blocking out Jonna's violet-hued glare.

* * *

The news of Jonna's marriage did not precede her home, but she did not wait long to inform her housekeeper. Mrs. Davis was no less visibly shocked than Jack Quincy, only better at keeping her voice down. When she recovered from the initial surprise, the creases in her gently lined face deepened as her smile widened.

"It's a pleasure to hear, Miss Remington," she said. "You and the captain. If my opinion counts for anything, it couldn't be more right."

"Mrs. Thorne," Jonna said.

The housekeeper was genuinely puzzled. "What?"

"You called me Miss Remington."

"I did?" She thought about it. "So I did. That will take a bit of getting used to. And just when I resigned myself to the idea that you'd be Miss Remington forever." Jonna's deep blush warned Mrs. Davis that she had spoken her errant thoughts aloud. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean..." She looked to Decker for help in extricating her from her poorly thought-out words.

"If the truth be known, Mrs. Davis," he said, "until very recently, my wife entertained the same notion."

"Then you must be a powerful persuader. Miss Rem—I mean Mrs. Thorne doesn't move easily from a course she's set."

Decker glanced sideways at Jonna. If anything her flush had become a shade deeper. "So I've heard," he said gravely.

Mrs. Davis helped Jonna off with her cape, then held out her arm for Decker's coat. "I think you've brought winter back with you." She brushed a dusting of snow off the sleeve of Decker's jacket. "Will you take some tea in the parlor?"

"Nothing for me," Jonna said. She was assailed suddenly by the oddest sensation that the floor was rolling under her feet. "I'd like to go to my room and lie down. I don't think I feel very well."

Mrs. Davis was instantly concerned, but it was Decker who suspected what was happening and acted. "Hot broth and a few crackers will do, Mrs. Davis. Have one of the maids bring them to her room. Don't trouble yourself." He placed his hand under Jonna's elbow to steady her. "I'll see that she gets to her room."

"Broth," the housekeeper repeated under her breath. Her eyes followed Jonna as Decker escorted her to the wide staircase. "Crackers." The corners of her eyes crinkled, and for a second they glistened with unshed tears. "Oh, my. Broth and crackers. Why, that's wonderful!" She turned and hurried down the hallway, carrying the coats with her.

Upstairs Decker dismissed the maid that was sent to assist, helping Jonna out of her gown and petticoats himself. That Jonna didn't protest spoke eloquently of her distress. Wearing only her shift, she crawled under the covers that Decker held up for her. She groaned softly as her head touched the pillow.

Decker's weight made a depression on the mattress as he sat down at the level of her waist. Leaning forward, he brushed back a tendril of dark hair from her cheek. Her skin was warm, not fevered.

"What's wrong with me?" she asked plaintively.

His slight smile was sympathetic. He began plucking pins from her hair. "Landsickness, I suspect. It happens sometimes when you've been at sea. The floor, the walls seem to move even though you know they don't."

"It didn't happen in London."

"I can't explain it," he said. "Only diagnose it. Is your stomach turning over?"

She nodded.

"And you have a headache?"

Jonna nodded again. This small effort caused her to wince. "Downstairs, I thought the entrance hall was going to fall away from under my feet."

"Then you're landsick."

"Does it last long?"

He was quiet a moment, considering how to answer the question. "Not as long as what Mrs. Davis thinks is wrong with you."

Jonna's brows puckered. She rubbed her temples while Decker placed her hair pins on the bedside table. "What does Mrs. Davis know about being landsick?"

"As far as I know, not a thing. That's why she thinks you're pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Jonna sat almost upright. Immediately the room seemed to tilt on its side. She closed her eyes and fell back. For a moment she thought she was going to be sick.

Watching her, Decker wondered if it was disorientation that was turning her complexion ashen or the thought of carrying his child. "Come here," he said. "Let me help you."

At first she didn't know what he meant, but as he changed position and moved to the head of the bed Jonna saw that he intended she should lay her head on his lap. He had said he wanted to help. When his long fingers began a gentle scalp massage, Jonna was thankful she had let him. "Why would Mrs. Davis think I'm pregnant?"

Even though Jonna's eyes were closed, Decker was careful to temper his smile. For all her business acumen, she could be rather frighteningly naive about other things. "Our hasty marriage," he said. "That wave of sickness downstairs. The fact that I asked for broth and crackers to be brought to your room."

"Oooh." It was a groaning realization. "I'll have to tell her differently."

"Why? It could be true."

"It's not."

"Would it be so awful?"

Jonna's eyes opened. She stared up at Decker. His careless smile was not in evidence. He was studying her face, looking past her set features for the truth she didn't want to reveal. "No," she said softly. "Not awful."

"But not welcome."

"That's right. Not welcome." She would make the worst sort of mother. Spending time with Colin's children had merely confirmed what she suspected about herself: they frightened her. The thought of having even one of her own filled her with a mixture of terror and dread. She knew volumes about ship-building. What she knew about raising children could be written on the head of a pin.

Decker didn't say anything. His disappointment was not visible in his cool glance or his still features. His fingers had only paused briefly on her scalp. Her hair was very soft, and his motions had released the faint scent of lavender. He leaned his head back and closed his own eyes.

A scratching at the door preceded the maid's entrance into the room. The Negress carried a large mug of steamy chicken broth and a plate of unsalted crackers.

"Thank you, Amanda," Jonna said. "Set the tray on the table."

Conscious of Jonna's headache, Amanda set it down carefully. "Mrs. Davis tol' me the news, ma'am. I'm very happy for you."

"Thank you. That's kind of you."

"And the cap'n, he must be poppin' his buttons."

Decker opened one eye and scanned Amanda's cheerful face. "I am. And it's a pleasure to see you again. I suppose now that Jonna's back you'll be running off. It doesn't seem anyone stays here long when she's in residence."

Jonna was too tired to take issue with him. "Don't mind the captain, Amanda. He's convinced I'm an ogre to my servants."

The maid's smile had wavered uncertainly. Now it was back like a bright beacon against her dusky complexion. "Go on with you, Cap'n Thorne." She waggled a finger at Jonna. "Take the soup, ma'am, before it gets cold. It will settle your insides. My mama swears by soup and crackers. There were eight of us, and she had the sickness with each one." Humming happily to herself, Amanda waltzed out of the room, unaware that Jonna tried to call her back.

"I don't think she was congratulating us on our marriage," Decker said when they were alone. "You confirmed Mrs. Davis's suspicions."

"I know that now. You might have said something."

"It will straighten itself out. You don't have to do anything. In a few months time they'll all notice you're not increasing." His fingers continued to sift strands of her silky hair. "If you're not pregnant now, I suppose there's no chance that you will be any time soon."

Since he had no more interest in her, Jonna had to agree with him. "We should discuss sleeping arrangements," she said. "There's really no reason for us to share a bed any longer."

"Other than for appearances, you mean."

"Until we decide how we intend to go on with this marriage, we can manage appearances by arranging adjoining rooms. There are two across the hall in this wing. Mrs. Davis can have the staff prepare them tomorrow."

Decker's fingers stilled. He tapped her forehead lightly with his index finger. "How we intend to go on with this marriage?" he repeated. "Are you entertaining some doubts?"

Jonna pushed herself upright. She reached across Decker for the tray and pulled it onto her lap. She noticed her hand barely trembled as she raised a cracker to her mouth. Decker couldn't possibly suspect how unsettled she was by what she had to say. "I've always had doubts," she said. "I never made a secret of them. It was you—and Colin—who dismissed them. We were in Colin's home then, and you're Colin's brother. I was never really given any choice but to fall in with your plans."

Decker had a good idea where she was heading. "And now that we're on your ground again, you think you can set some new rules? Is that the gist of it?"

"Something like that." She bit into the cracker. Her mouth was so dry she could barely swallow it. Her stomach was roiling more now than it had been at any time since she'd walked in the door of her home. "I do care something for appearances," she said. "In spite of what you might think. I hope that you will maintain at least the pretense of faithfulness. I don't want to end the marriage too quickly. I shouldn't like people to think I acted both precipitously
and
unwisely."

"That would not be good for business," he said dryly.

"Exactly. You understand." Jonna wrapped her cool and clammy palms around the mug of broth. She let the steam rise to her nostrils before taking a sip. Whiskey would have been better, she thought. She should be drunk right now.