Jo Goodman (51 page)

"I understand you were engaged to him at one time," Graham said.

Usually this would have brought an immediate denial from Jonna. Now she simply shrugged.

"Whiskey won't wash down a betrayal," he said quietly, more to himself than to her.

Jonna's violet eyes lifted suddenly and she glimpsed the pain in his. Graham Denison knew something about betrayal. It explained the flint in his eye and the steel in his voice that no drawl would ever soften. His expression was quickly shuttered, his smile reserved. "I wasn't thinking of having a drink," she said.

"Revenge is no antidote either." Graham saw her eyes flash briefly.

"I was considering how to make him answer for his crimes," she said. "If that's vengeful on my part, then so be it. Importing slaves is illegal—everywhere in this country."

"True," Decker said. "But it's largely overlooked. Southern authorities won't prosecute."

"We're in Boston, not Charleston, and I'm not the only person he's fooled." She waved her hand in an impatient, angry gesture. "All his talk of Garrison.
The Liberator.
Those meetings at Faneuil Hall. His principled stand on abolition." Jonna had to catch her breath. She stared at her hands. They were actually shaking. "All of it was lies."

Decker looked down at her bent head. Her thick hair was secured in a twist by two silver combs. He had an urge to touch the vulnerable nape of her neck. "I suppose none of us is what we seem."

"Don't defend him," Jonna said sharply. "His deceptions have hurt people. My God, Decker." She turned to look at him, her face lifted, eyes awash with unshed tears. "He wanted to meet Falconer. Can you imagine he had any reason at all except to expose you?"

Decker couldn't think of one. He laid his hand lightly on Jonna's shoulder. He had come precariously close to setting a trap for himself, he realized. He counted himself as one of those Grant Sheridan had fooled. Decker had never intended to reveal himself to Sheridan as Falconer, but even admitting that, he knew the man was dangerous. Decker was only realizing now precisely how dangerous. "He doesn't know anything about Falconer," he said calmly. "And he doesn't know anything about you. I believe you're right, Jonna. We should look at legal means to lay open Sheridan's slaving business." He pointed to the documents he had stolen. "I wonder if I should return those?"

"You will not," Jonna said firmly. "I won't allow you. They're evidence. We'll turn them over to my lawyer and listen to his advice. If it's sound, we'll take it. In any event, it's unlikely that Grant's missed them. They're not the sort of papers he'd go searching for without good reason—and we must not give him one."

She was peripherally aware that Graham was studying her as if she were an insect in a jar. Jonna turned on him and gave him an arch look. "Well?" she asked.

"Fascinating," he whispered.

Above Jonna's head, Decker grinned. "I know, isn't it?"

A tentative knock on the door covered Jonna's derisive snort. "Yes?"

Mrs. Davis stepped inside. Her anxious glance went to each of the bedchamber's occupants. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Thorne. Captain. I hope you're resting comfortably, Mr. Denison."

"Yes, thank you," Graham said.

In spite of her mild irritation, Jonna's smile was gentle. "The reason you're here, Mrs. Davis?"

The housekeeper patted her apron down. "It's about Rachael," she said. "I don't know quite what to think of it. She's gone off to Faneuil Hall with Mr. Sheridan."

Chapter 15

Mrs. Davis was not prepared for the volley of questions that followed her announcement or the fact they came simultaneously.

"Faneuil Hall?" Jonna asked. "Are you quite sure?"

"How long ago?" Decker said.

"Who's Rachael?" asked Graham.

As if struck by this barrage, the housekeeper actually took a small step backward. Her eyes darted from one to the other as she answered each query. "Mr. Sheridan was very specific about their destination," she said. "It was not even thirty minutes ago. Rachael is the youngest maid among my staff."

Jonna's frown was thoughtful. "Did Mr. Sheridan arrive here with the intention of taking Rachael?"

Mrs. Davis considered that a moment. "I suppose he did," she said. "At first I naturally thought he came here to see you or the captain, but he didn't inquire after you at all. I imagine he thought you'd both gone to the harbor, and I never had a chance to tell him differently. The poor girl looked quite bewildered by his request—as I was myself—but she went along with it." The lines in the housekeeper's careworn face deepened. She was aware now that she had acted precipitously by allowing Rachael to leave. "I should have come here immediately," she said regretfully. "It's just that Mr. Sheridan said he'd discussed this with you."

"We had," Jonna acknowledged. "But it was soon after Rachael's arrival, and I was adamant that she wasn't to be displayed to his abolitionist friends."

Graham's attention shifted to Decker. "This girl's a Negress?"

Decker nodded. He could not convey the depth of his concern without alarming Jonna. "That's right," he said. "And we know now that Grant Sheridan has no abolitionist friends."

"I can't make any sense of this," Jonna said. She looked up at her husband. "Whatever could Grant be thinking?"

"I'm sure I don't know," he said dryly. "And I doubt that it matters. I'll be happy to retrieve her."

"Would you? I'd be grateful."

Decker touched her cheek. "Of course."

Graham's flint-colored eyes narrowed as he studied Decker's face. There had been a moment when he'd caught something more than his friend's carefully shuttered expression. "I wouldn't mind taggin' along," he drawled. "Perhaps some company wouldn't come amiss."

Turning back to Graham, Jonna didn't see the exchange that passed between the two men. In that moment Decker was able to communicate that there was some danger in retrieving Rachael, even though he could not explain the nature of it. "Absolutely not," she said firmly. "You need to rest."

"Jonna's right," Decker added. "And anyway, I'd prefer that you stay here with her."

Jonna glanced at him oddly. "Don't you mean that you'd prefer
I
stay here with
him?
I mean, I'm not the one bed-bound."

Decker smiled. "Yes, that's what I meant."

Graham's slight nod was imperceptible to the housekeeper and Jonna, but not to Decker who was looking for an affirmation.

Bending, Decker gave Jonna a brief kiss on the lips. "I won't be long." He glanced once more at Graham, but said nothing. The housekeeper stepped aside to let him pass. She was on the point of making an apology when Decker simply escorted her gently out the door.

Jonna smiled as she heard him reassuring Mrs. Davis that no regrets were necessary. She waited until his voice faded before she gave her full attention to Graham. "I confess," she said softly. "It's a relief Grant has no idea that Decker is Falconer. I could not have let him go otherwise."

"I understand," Graham said. He added offhandedly, "It would change everything if Mr. Sheridan knew."

"Yes," she said. "Yes, it would. And in light of what we know now about Grant, it would be tantamount to Decker walking into a trap."

"That's what I was thinking."

Jonna was seized by an unfamiliar restlessness. She stood and walked to the window.

"Can you see him?" Graham asked.

"What?" She was startled out of her reverie. "Oh, no. Not from here. He will probably ride rather than take the carriage. He'll leave by the back." She hesitated. Her faint smile was wistful. "I hadn't even realized I was looking for him until you asked. Isn't that odd?"

Graham had no idea if it were odd or not. He only knew that he would not mind being the object of Jonna's concern. "Decker's fortunate to have you looking out for him."

Jonna turned slowly back to Graham. "I was only looking for my husband," she said. "Not looking
out
for him. Is there some reason I should be doing the latter?"

"I misspoke. I didn't mean to give you cause for concern."

She was silent a moment, unconvinced. "I suppose I'm having second thoughts," she said at last. "I should have gone with him."

Graham knew that was the very thing Decker had wanted to avoid. "I can't think of any reason for that."

"I know Grant's moods," she said. "Decker doesn't—though I suspect he understands Grant's character better than I do. There was no regard there even before Decker knew Grant was a slaver. I shouldn't be at all surprised if there isn't a fight."

At the very least, Graham thought.

Jonna sighed. "I'm not used to helplessness. It's rather what I'm feeling now."

"I understand perfectly."

Jonna was at once sympathetic. Her features softened with concern. "Yes, of course you do. There's really no point in my going on, is there?" She moved to Graham's bedside and touched the bowl of broth on the tray. "This is still warm. Will you have some? Or would you like it hotter? I can ring for more."

"No, that will be fine." Afraid she might want to spoonfeed him, Graham held out his hand for the bowl. "Please, won't you sit down? You'll give me a crimp in my neck if I have to stare up at you." Jonna returned to the chair, but Graham could see that it was an effort for her to stay in it. "Tell me about this Rachael," he said. "Why did Mr. Sheridan choose her?"

"I suppose because she presents such a vulnerable figure. Grant was much taken with her the first time he saw her here. Looking back on it now, I imagine he saw her as someone who could further affirm his position as a social reformer. I told him she was a freeborn black, but I remember that it made little difference to him. He still thought there was some statement he could make using Rachael. I was offended that he would want to exploit her."

"And is she a freeborn black?"

"No," Jonna said. "It's what I had to tell Grant, of course, but Rachael's a passenger on the Underground."

"I see," Graham said slowly. But he didn't, not yet. "What makes her particularly vulnerable? Her age? I believe Mrs. Davis mentioned she's the youngest of the staff."

"It's not her youth," Jonna said. "At least not entirely. She does appear to be younger than her years. The best we can determine is that she's about seventeen."

"She doesn't know?"

"That's hard to say. Sometimes it's difficult to communicate with her, though I've begun to suspect that's her choice. Certainly she understands what's said to her, but she doesn't speak at all. Mrs. Davis is teaching her to read, and it's been an arduous journey for both of them. Rachael's very eager to please on many accounts, but in other ways she is rather stubborn."

"Why doesn't she speak?"

"I couldn't say. Doctor Hardy examined her when she first came—it was necessary because of her hand—but he could find no physical reason for her silence. It may be that she simply chooses not to speak. One of the other servants told me recently that Rachael sometimes talks in her sleep." A chill washed over Jonna. Her beautifully drawn eyebrows creased as she frowned. "But I asked her about that," she said softly, more to herself than to her company. "And she simply looked at me blankly."

"Pardon?" Graham said. "You asked her about what?"

"I asked her what she knew about Falconer. That's the name Delores told me Rachael spoke in her sleep. It seemed terribly unlikely, but I asked Rachael anyway. She gave no hint that she understood me, and I felt very foolish for questioning her." Jonna's face cleared suddenly. "She couldn't know Falconer, could she? It's so very odd to remember that he and Decker are one and the same. Decker would have told me about Rachael, don't you think? I mean, if they were acquainted, he would have recognized her."

Graham nodded slowly. There was some piece he hadn't quite grasped, something Jonna had said that was just beyond his fingertips. It came upon him so suddenly he didn't think about hiding the urgency. "What was it you said about the girl's hand?"

Jonna blinked, startled. "I'm not certain that I did."

"The doctor," Graham said. "You mentioned the doctor was necessary because of her hand."