Jo Goodman (43 page)

"Then you'd be willing to mount a rescue?"

"Get Falconer out of jail?"

"That's right. You'd be surprised how easily it can be done." His faint smile was unembarrassed and unapologetic. "I have some experience in things of this nature."

"So the stories about you are true."

"I'm sure some of them are. Are you interested?"

"I want to hear your price."

"Five thousand dollars."

Sheridan didn't visibly react to the amount Decker named. "No," he said firmly. "That's a fortune."

"Then your cause will have a martyr," Decker said. "At no cost to you or any of your friends."

"If it's as easily arranged as you say, there's no reason I can't do the thing myself."

"That's true."

Sheridan had expected Decker to make another offer and ask for less money. When he didn't, Sheridan asked, "What are the risks?"

"Being caught," Decker said. "Swinging at the end of a rope. Those come to mind immediately. Even a successful venture would have consequences. If you're identified with the operation, then your business will suffer more losses. I doubt you'll be able to trade anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon."

"You'll have to deal with the same risks," Sheridan said. "What will Jonna think about you endangering Remington Shipping?"

"I won't be," said Decker.

"You'll need a ship."

"Not necessarily. But in any event, I have one." He responded to the question in Sheridan's eyes.
"Huntress.
This clipper's mine."

Sheridan was visibly taken aback. "You mean Jonna's allowing you to serve as its master."

"I mean she's given me the ship."

"You're lying. She would never do that."

Decker did not try to convince him. He remained silent and let Sheridan believe whatever he wished.

"I want to think about your offer," Sheridan said finally. "I can't put up five thousand by myself."

"I understand," Decker said. "But I wouldn't wait too long to speak to your friends."

* * *

Jonna was waiting for Decker at six o'clock at the entrance to the warehouse. Jeremy Dodd's lanky frame was draped casually over a hitching post a few feet away. His eyes wandered up and down the wharf, taking in the slow but steady traffic. Night was just falling, and his particular interest lay in the young women who were beginning to emerge from the back streets.

"You really can go," Jonna said.

"No, ma'am. I really can't."

"Captain Thorne and Mr. Poling will be here at any minute."

"The cap'n was very specific that I should wait for him."

Jonna sighed. "Mr. Dodd, who do you think runs Remington Shipping?"

Jeremy didn't hesitate. "You do."

"Then don't you think you should take your orders from me?"

The young man's head swiveled in her direction. His grin was wide. "I figure it this way, ma'am. If I disobey you, I'm only out of a job. If I disobey the cap'n, my life's over. It's not a hard choice."

"I see what you mean." It was an effort to hold back a smile.

Jeremy straightened. "Here's the captain now," he said, pointing across the wharf. "And if I'm not mistaken, there's your carriage."

Jonna looked in the directions in which Jeremy pointed and saw he was correct on both counts.
"Now
you can go."

He gave her a jaunty salute. "Right you are."

He still didn't leave, she noticed, until he had delivered her safely to the interior of the carriage. She wasn't aware she was smiling until Decker asked her about it once they were underway. "It's Jeremy," she said. "He would not be moved from his post. His allegiance to you was both annoying and admirable."

"He's a good man."

"He said you'd take his life if he left me alone."

Decker did not share Jonna's amusement. "I would."

Jonna's smile disappeared abruptly. "You're serious."

"Yes," he said. "I am."

She fell silent. Her eyes drifted from Decker's implacable features to the window. It seemed the stoic brick structures lining the streets were more likely to yield than Decker Thorne. She considered the young women she had pledged to move through her station. How would it be possible without her husband's help? And what would she do if he were unwilling to give it?

"There's something I want to talk to you about."

Decker's voice startled Jonna. He had spoken the very words she had been thinking. "Yes?"

"It's about Rachael."

"Rachael? The girl who works for me?"

"Yes. That one."

Jonna didn't try to mask her surprise, only her wariness. "Have you spoken to Mrs. Davis?"

"No. I think it would be better if you did that."

"What is it?"

Decker hesitated. He hadn't realized how uncomfortable it would be relating the events of the morning to Jonna. "Rachael came in to change the linens after you'd gone. I think she expected me to be gone as well. I attempted to have a conversation with her, but with no success."

"She doesn't speak, Decker. I'm sure your efforts made her uncomfortable."

He didn't disagree. "I suppose I became impatient with her. I pointed to the bed. I only meant to indicate she should go on about her business."

Jonna felt her insides clenching. She wondered if she could choose not to hear any more. "And did she?"

"She sat on the bed and lifted her skirt. She seemed to think I wanted her to—"

Jonna raised a hand, cutting him off. It was every bit as unpleasant as she had expected. "Perhaps you misunderstood."

"I thought that. Hoped for it, actually. But there was no misunderstanding." He wasn't going to share that he had made sure of it. Jonna didn't need to know everything. "Rachael's been ill used, Jonna. She's been given reason to expect that when a man points to a bed she's supposed to be on it."

"I'll make certain she knows she's safe with us," Jonna said. "I won't speak to Mrs. Davis about this yet except to have her reassign Rachael's duties. That won't be a problem." Her eyes slid away from his for a moment. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I was going to," he said. It was an honest reply, still, he didn't know if he'd be believed. "But we argued about your protection. I didn't think about Rachael again until I was at the ship. I thought it could wait until now."

Jonna nodded.

"Don't you want to ask me anything else?" he said after a long silence.

At first Jonna didn't understand; then she saw the uncertainty in his eyes. She suddenly realized he hadn't known what he could expect from her. "I'm not going to ask you if you accepted Rachael's offer, or even if you were tempted by it." Jonna's smile was as soft as her reply. "I'm trying very hard not to live down to your expectations, Captain Thorne."

Decker let the warmth in her violet eyes wash over him. He moved from the seat opposite her to the place at her side. She slipped her arm through his and leaned against him. It was a comfortable place, she thought, at the side of this man. The hood of her plum cloak slipped back, and Jonna felt Decker's cheek touch her hair. The tenderness of the gesture brought tears to her eyes. Her heart swelled.

"Jonna?" Decker was struck by her very stillness. Quiet did not come easily to her, and it had been several minutes since she had moved. He lifted his head to get a better view of her face. The carriage lantern cast a warm orange glow over her complexion. Under the light, traces of tears were visible on her cheeks. She had made no attempt to brush them away, yet she wouldn't have wanted to call attention to them. Jonna wouldn't want him to have seen them now, but it was no longer her choice.

Decker rested his head against her soft crown of hair, and Jonna slept on in the shelter of his shoulder and under the crook of his chin.

* * *

Mrs. Davis poked her head into the kitchen and pointed to Rachael. "Mrs. Thorne would like you to help her get ready for dinner," she said. "Go on. She was almost asleep on her feet when she got here. Lay out a fresh gown for her and dress her hair. That should be enough to revive her."

Rachael adjusted her cap and smoothed her apron. She waited for the housekeeper's approving nod before she left.

Jonna was sitting at her dressing table when Rachael entered. She followed the girl's movements in the mirror. "I'd like to wear the wine silk this evening. Do you know the one I mean?" When Rachael looked uncertain Jonna drew the outline of the heart-shaped bodice against her chest. "It has jet beading along the neckline." She saw Rachael's expression clear. "Will you get that for me?" She pointed to the gown she had been wearing, which was lying over the back of a chair. "And take that one for laundering."

While Rachael disappeared into the dressing room Jonna finished plucking pins from her hair. She ran her fingers through the length of it, separating the strands.

The strap of her chemise slipped over her shoulder and Jonna let it lie there. She rubbed her temples. The nap in the carriage had left her more tired than refreshed.

Rachael laid the wine silk gown carefully at the foot of Jonna's bed. She walked over to the dressing table, but she didn't pick up a brush. Instead she slipped her hands under Jonna's and began to massage gently. The pressure of her fingertips eased the tension behind Jonna's eyes and in her neck. She sighed gratefully.

"You can't imagine how I'll miss this when you're gone," she said. The fingers on her scalp paused only briefly, but Jonna felt it. She caught Rachael's reflection in the mirror. "Mrs. Davis says you've performed well at all your duties. It's time to find a placement for you."

Rachael's eyes clouded. She touched her throat.

"I don't think it matters that you can't speak. It's never interfered here. You've always been able to make yourself understood." Jonna noticed that Rachael was not particularly pleased with the compliment. "No decision's been made yet," she said. "I don't have any place in mind. You mustn't worry that I'll send you anywhere where you'll be hurt. Captain Thorne thinks you've experienced your fill of that already."

Heat rose in Rachael's cheeks. Her coffee-colored complexion masked her blush, but she couldn't hide her distress. She shook her head vigorously.

"He told me what happened this morning," Jonna said gently. "He doesn't know anything about you, Rachael, nothing about your background or how you came here on the Railroad. He thinks you're a freeborn black because I've told him that's all I hire."

Jonna was watching Rachael closely. Though the young woman's fingers were still working against her scalp, Rachael's distress was only marginally contained. "None of us know what you may have suffered," Jonna went on. "But in this house I want you to be safe. No one has the right to make you lift your skirts or give yourself in any way against your will. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Rachael's fingers stilled. With visible effort she managed to nod slowly.

"While you remain in my home I want you to come to me if there's ever a problem. I'm going to ask Mrs. Davis to reassign your duties. I wanted you to know that it's not because I'm unhappy with your work. Captain Thorne wants to avoid any possibility that he's misunderstood again."

Jonna handed Rachael the brush. "He's not angry with you, Rachael. Only concerned. He offers his protection as well." She closed her eyes as Rachael made the first pass through her long hair. Tension seeped out of her with each stroke.

Rachael hastily knuckled away a tear that clung stubbornly to her lashes. She opened her mouth to speak, then her gaze fell on the disfigured ball of her hand and she closed it again. So much worse could happen to her if she said anything. Anything at all.

Jonna looked up as Rachael set down the brush. "Thank you," she said. "I feel much better. Will you help me with my gown?"

Rachael picked up the silk carefully, fanning out the material across her arm for Jonna's inspection. The color shimmered and shifted like burgundy swirling in a wineglass. Thousands of jet beads were sewn along the neckline. They sparkled darkly against Jonna's pale skin as Rachael fastened the gown at her back.

Jonna turned this way and that, studying her reflection in the cheval glass. "It's no good, is it? I don't do justice to this gown."

Out of the line of her sight, Rachael simply stared at her in disbelief. She entered Jonna's field of vision and pointed to the dressing table again. Her silent command brooked no refusal. In short order she began to work her deft magic on Jonna's hair. Using jet combs to lift the heavy fall at the back and a beaded headband to make a crown in the front, Rachael's efforts accented Jonna's slender throat and naturally regal bearing.

"Oh my," Jonna said as she stared at her reflection. The effect was quite extraordinary. "Oh my." Above her head, she saw Rachael was beaming. "You have every right to be pleased with yourself," Jonna told her. "You've made a silk purse."

Turning on her stool, Jonna looked straight into the younger woman's dark expressive eyes. "What do you know about Falconer?"

* * *

"You're very quiet," Decker said. They had finished dinner nearly an hour earlier and retired to the music room. Jonna lost interest in playing quickly, and. Decker didn't press. "You didn't say much during dinner either."