Garret turned around. "It's the earring. My mother's initials are here on the drop. She will be grateful to have it returned to her." His fingers closed over it. "She isn't well," he said quietly. "She never has beena for as long as I can remember. This will be important to her." He looked at Berkeley. "I don't pretend to understand what you were going on about, but I'm confident it has nothing to do with me. This is my heritage."

"As you wish,'' Berkeley said. Her gaze shifted to Anderson. "My business is concluded. You may apply my share of Mr. Denison's payment for the recovery of the earring to what you're extorting from me. You already have my necklace." She reached into her reticule again. "I've had a note drawn up from my account for another thousand. It's all the money I have, Anderson. If you give me an address, I will send payments as funds become available to me. You may be sure I will pay you."

"This is very disappointing, Berkeley," Anderson said. "I expected better from you."

Garret pocketed the earring and sat on the edge of the bed. Relaxed now, he stretched his legs in front of him and folded his arms across his chest. "How much does he want from you?" he asked Berkeley.

"Twenty thousand dollars."

One of Garret's dark brows kicked up. "And you have that kind of money?"

"No, of course not. He expects me to get it from Grey. Which is ludicrous because Grey will ask questions, and I'll be forced to tell him the truth at some pointa"which is precisely the thing I'm trying to keep from him." Her eyes implored Anderson. "Don't you see? I may as well tell him everything now if you're going to force my hand."

"Has he asked after your necklace?" Anderson said.

"No. But he will."

"You'll have to say you lost it, won't you? Or that it was stolen. I'm sure if you think on it, you'll come up with some equally plausible explanations for its disappearance."

Berkeley closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them weariness and a certain resolve etched her features. "I'm sick of lying to my husband. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I don't want to think on it. I want you to take what you have and leave here. Leave the city. Leave the state. But leave."

A small, rather stiff smile raised the corners of Anderson's mouth. "Or what?" he asked. "I believe you're prepared to threaten me. Have a care, Berkeley. Only consider this: I am, in fact, your legal husband. That will become the least of your problems if you don't show a more temperate nature."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I'm a better gambler than you've given me credit for. I know when to show my cards and when to keep them close to my vest. I believe I'll hold them for now." His eyes dropped to her beaded bag. Berkeley's right hand was still inside. "What do you have there? A pocket pistol?"

She shook her head. The knife she held felt very solid in her hand. Berkeley told herself when she lifted it from Grey's boot that she would be able to use it. Her conscience had been easier to convince when she was not confronted by a flesh-and-blood target. She let the knife drop to the bottom of her reticule and removed her hand. "I won't let you provoke me, Anderson, but it doesn't mean I'm frightened of you. You will do what you will, and I will follow my own course. Right now, I am going to leave."

Anderson watched her come around the chair. "You're infinitely more interesting than you used to be. I wonder how much credit I may take for this transformation. Leaving you to fend for yourself has given you courage. A false sense, to be sure.

How I will enjoy making you understand you're only being reckless."

Berkeley made no attempt to reply. She nodded once, coolly, in Garret's direction, then took several steps toward the door. She antic.i.p.ated that Anderson would grab her arm as she pa.s.sed and he acted true to form. Berkeley swung her reticule in a wide arc at his head and felt the hilt of the knife connect solidly with the back of his skull. She wrested her arm away from him as he staggered sideways, partly from the blow, but more from sheer surprise.

Berkeley reached for the door handle. It twisted in her hand but not because she had done anything to cause it. Someone was pushing on the door from the other side. Instinctively she stepped back and found herself being trapped between the wall and the door as it was thrust open.

Grey Janeway stepped into the room. He was followed closely by Ivory DuPree. His eyes darted to the two occupants and he recognized one of them immediately. "Mr. Lerner," he said. Grey glanced over his shoulder at Ivory. "It's all right. I'm certain we've found the right room this time."

Standing on tiptoe, Ivory looked past Grey and searched the room. "I don't see her. You must be mistaken. Come, we'll try another." She flashed an apologetic smile at the Palace's guests and tugged on the back of Grey's jacket. "Hurry. Or we'll miss her altogether."

Grey removed Ivory's hand. "She's here." Indeed, he had known it even before he had felt the slight resistance on the door as he opened it. It was her fragrance, faint to be sure, but nonetheless unmistakable to his senses. He had buried his face in her cloud of corn silk hair last night. He was not wrong about the scent of lavender now. Grey took another step and gently pried the door a few more inches away from the wall. Any doubts that she was behind it faded when he felt her pulling from the other direction. The outcome of this tug-of-war was inevitable.

Berkeley looked up at Grey as her face was revealed in a shaft of light. "h.e.l.lo," she said softly, a shade guiltily. "I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here."

Grey took her by the hand and brought her out from behind the door. "An understatement."

She noticed he did not seem at all angry with her. His hand squeezed hers. "You remember Mr. Lerner."

Grey nodded."From yesterday evening. The challenge about plays and roles. Yes, of course." The actor, Grey saw, was rubbing the back of his head. Something about the movement suggested to Grey that it was not a gesture of pure puzzlement, but one rooted in pain relief. What had Berkeley done?

"And this is Garret Denison," Berkeley went on. "Graham Denison's brother."

Grey inclined his head, his eyes cool, his features implacable. "I know the name."

Garret had jumped to his feet the moment Grey had barged into the room. Alarm and apprehension mingled to keep him silenced. Now his eyes narrowed suspiciously on his brother's face. "What game is this, Graham? Do you think I wouldn't know you? My G.o.d, you're a piece of work."

Berkeley stepped closer to Grey as if she could shield him. "My husband doesn't recognize or remember you," she said. "You have nothing at all to fear from him."

One corner of Garret's mouth lifted derisively. "Fear? You're quite mistaken there. I've never feared my brother."

"Then there's no reason to raise the past, is there?" she asked. Berkeley looked up at Grey. Her husband showed no interest in Garret at all; he was watching her. "Mr. Denison's come all this way to claim the earring."

"He's identified it?"

She nodded. "Yes, and claimed it. I gave it to him only a few minutes ago. It's why I've come here, you see. To pa.s.s it on. You've never really cared about it, and I thought we'd be better rid of it. Do you understand, Grey? I didn't want to distress you."

Grey smiled faintly. "I think I understand." He held her lightly by the waist and regarded Garret again. "You don't seem as though you believe us," he said. "I can fully comprehend your mistrust. It's true your face means less than nothing to me, but Berkeley has given me some information about my past. I'm aware that I've brought shame to the family and that you consider yourselves well rid of me."

Berkeley gasped a little at that. "Grey, I've never saida""

"She's right," he interrupted her. "That would be my interpretation. Would you consider it accurate, Mr. Denison?"

Garret's head jerked a fraction at being so stiffly referred to as Mr. Denison. It was unexpected, this civil tone and grave formality. How surpa.s.singly amusing it was that he had gone to such lengths to avoid his brother. He had set himself the problem of what to do about Graham at the moment he learned from Anderson Shaw that his brother was alive. Throughout his journey west to San Francisco he contemplated the necessity of arranging his brother's death a second time. The only way to circ.u.mvent that end was to conduct this business with the earring without Graham's knowledge. He had vowed to give his brother a small advantage this time. Now he realized his n.o.ble gesture had been unnecessary and would never be fully appreciated.

It seemed the beating in Charleston all those years ago had served to end Graham's life after all.

Garret shook his head slowly. Low laughter rumbled deeply in his chest. He sat back on the bed again and let himself enjoy the irony. He laughed hard, with real amus.e.m.e.nt, and regretted only that he would never share this moment with any family member save the brother whom he hated. It took him more than a minute to compose himself. His eyes were damp. "Forgive me," he said somewhat breathlessly. "That was quite unpardonable. I imagined another outcome entirely upon seeing my brother again. This meetinga well, it's difficult to take in." Garret took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. "It's true then? You really don't remember me?"

"At the risk of sending you into another paroxysm of laughter, it's true."

Garret grinned. "And Beau Rivage?"

"Not a thing."

"It's incredible. There are certain similarities between your hotel and my home. I remarked on them as soon as I saw the Phoenix." He paused. "You don't mind that I refer to Beau Rivage as my home, do you?"

"Only as long as you don't refer to the Phoenix as your hotel."

Garret was actually enjoying himself. His expression warmed as he silently saluted his brother with a brief tilt of his head. "Alys?"

Grey frowned. He glanced at Berkeley. She had never mentioned anyone by that name. "Nothing, I'm afraid," he told his brother.

"You were going to marry her," Garret said. "Instead, I did."

Berkeley had no liking for how Garret was amusing himself at Grey's expense. She wanted to leave. Anderson's role in this meeting had been sidestepped for now, but Grey would have questions. Berkeley wanted to be away from Anderson when she was forced to answer them. She had no faith that Anderson would allow her to spin her own tale.

"Then I wish you happy with her," Grey said politely. "I certainly have no regrets."

Anderson used to hold her like this, Berkeley thought. One hand at the small of her back. His fingertips grazing her waist. She felt an unpleasant knot form in her stomach as she antic.i.p.ated feeling his knuckle dig harshly into her spine. She tore her eyes away from Anderson and reminded herself that she was with Grey. "May we leave?" she asked.

"Of course." Grey looked back at Ivory, who was still standing behind him, bobbing and weaving a bit to get the best view she could of the room's inhabitants. "Please take my wife downstairs. I'll join you both in a few minutes."

Berkeley started to protest. She did not want to leave without Grey.

"Come with me, Mrs. Janeway," Ivory said, looping her arm through Berkeley's. "Let the men have their say. There won't be room for us once they commence puffing their chests and strutting. This isn't a suite at the Phoenix, you know." More firmly than gently, Ivory tugged on Berkeley's arm.

Berkeley's feet gave way reluctantly. She suspected that Ivory would drag her from the room if she didn't move of her own accord. She felt the light caress of Grey's hand as she was parted from him. His smile gave no hint that he was the least concerned. It was the flinty, blue-gray cast to his eyes that gave her pause.

Grey waited until the footfalls of the two women were out of earshot before he spoke. Ivory had had the presence of mind not to close the door behind him. He had a clear escape route if one was needed. "Is the earring all you came for, Garret?" he asked. "Do you have what you want?"

As if struck by Grey's tone, Garret's head snapped up. "Unless you give me reason to want something else," he said slowly. Your life, perhaps. "You haven't suddenly found your memory?"

Grey pointed to his temple. "Tabula rasa," he said. "A genuine blank slate. I don't antic.i.p.ate that changing."

Garret's eyes narrowed. What was his brother saying? That he did remember and was choosing to pretend otherwise? Or could he be taken at his word? "I have the earring," he said. He took it out of his pocket and showed it to Grey. "Your wife was instrumental in delivering it to me. It's been an exhaustive search. For the earring, that is. Not for you. I could have done without laying eyes on you again, Graham."

"I understand that. I suppose, in your eyes, what I did was unforgivable."

"She's told you about Falconer, then."

Grey nodded."It doesn't seem real to me. It's as if the name should belong to someone else."

"Oh, it's yours. You earned it running your blackbirds along the Underground. I confess I was surprised to discover you hadn't taken up the abolitionist cause again. Apparently a leopard can change his spots." Garret wrapped his handkerchief around the earring and put it away. He lifted his chin in Ander-son Shaw's direction. "You haven't asked after my companion. I'm entertaining some peculiar notions as to why that is."

"I only wanted to be certain you and I are finished," Grey said. "I'm satisfied we are."

Garret nodded. He folded his arms across his chest again and waited to see how Graham's other business would be concluded.

Grey turned to Anderson. "You're younger than I thought you would be."

One of Anderson's chestnut brows rose. "Oh?"

"I pictured my wife's stepfather as an older man."

"Aaahh." Anderson expelled a breath slowly. "So you know. She told you after all."

"About you, yes. That you were masquerading as Lerner, no. I've only realized the truth of the matter since I came here. Now you've confirmed it."

"Clever."

Grey shrugged. "Not really. I was thinking I've been slow to realize quite a bit. Weeks ago, when you and Garret tried to get the earring from Nat, I should have suspected you. I only considered that you'd told one of the Ducks about the earring before you were killed. It didn't occur to me then that you might be behind the thing yourself."

"Every man should attend his own wake," Anderson said. "It's a humbling experience."

"How could you abandon her?"

"Short-sightedness on my part, I a.s.sure you. I did not suspect that she could become such a lucrative a.s.set. Our funds were short, and the earring, as valuable as it is to Garret, was essentially worthless here." He held up his hands in a mocking, helpless gesture. "In light of how well she's done, I don't think she regrets being left behind. She's managed to land on her feeta or at least on her back." Anderson did not miss the narrowing of Grey's flinty stare. He also observed the faint forward lean to his body, as if he were straining at the end of his leash. "You want to plant your fist in my face, I suppose," he said. "That would be a mistake, Mr. Janeway."

Grey gave Anderson Shaw full marks for his quietly threatening stance. It would be the Ducks, Grey thought, who would retaliate on Anderson's behalf. He almost didn't care. "Is the earring all you wanted from my wife?" he asked. "Are you leaving with Garret?"

"I haven't decided. I was thinking I should come to know my new son-in-law."

Grey's smile held no warmth. "You wouldn't like him."

"Perhaps not."

Making his point bluntly, Grey asked, "What will it take for you to leave us alone?"

Anderson did not pretend that he had been insulted. "I'm not greedy, Mr. Janeway. I expect to realize a tidy sum from the return of the earring.'' He glanced at Garret for confirmation.

"That's right," Garret said.

"So," Anderson went on. "I could be satisfied with as little as ten thousand dollars. I could be very happy with fifteen."

Grey did not blink and he didn't hesitate. "Will you take a draft? Or do you want it in gold?"

"Gold, I think. A draft payment can always be stopped."

"I'll make the arrangements with the Bank of California this afternoon. You will have your money and a pa.s.sage back East by closing. I'll insist on seeing you off." His gaze swiveled to Garret. "Both of you."

Leaving nothing to negotiation, Grey turned on his heel and left.

Berkeley was pacing a path in front of the staircase. She looked up when she heard someone on the steps. "Grey!" Her eyes moved quickly over him as he made his descent. He appeared all of a piece.

"You look none the worse for that encounter," Ivory noted when Grey reached the bottom. "I told your wife not to worry. Poor thing. Back and forth. Back and forth. I'm spinning, I know that."

Grey grinned at Ivory as Berkeley launched herself at him. He was rocked back on his heels. "She never does anything by halves." One of his arms came around Berkeley. The other he held out for Ivory. She grasped it and they shook hands warmly. Behind Berkeley's back Ivory blew Grey a kiss. She was vastly amused to see him blush.

Grey released Ivory's hand and set Berkeley from him. "Thank you, Ivory. I didn't think Berkeley could get away from us today. You did the right thing by sending for me."

She smiled. "Your wife doesn't share that sentiment." Ivory's eyes gleamed. "You're not going to beat her, are you? I think she believes you're going to beat her."

Berkeley sucked in her breath. "I never said anya""

"It has merit though, doesn't it?" Grey interrupted. "Thank you again, Miss DuPree. Berkeley, we have to go." He didn't offer his arm or wait for her a.s.sent. He moved toward the door and forced her to hurry to keep up with him. The pace he set outside only slowed marginally, and she had difficulty matching his long stride. Grey took pity on her only as they were crossing Portsmouth Square and he heard her labored breathing. He stopped in his tracks so suddenly that she b.u.mped into him.

Berkeley looked up. "Do you wish to drag me the last fifty yards?" She began to loosen the ribbons of her bonnet. "By the hair?"

"I'm more tempted than amused," he said dryly. He watched her sweep the bonnet off to one side and shake her head. The same wind that whipped her skirts against her legs lifted the gold-and-platinum banner of her hair. He was reminded that she had made a similar gesture the first time they stood in front of the Phoenix. He might even have fallen in love with her then. His lips moved around a single word, spoken softly, more to himself than to Berkeley. Tempted.

Grey lifted Berkeley inches off the ground. Her mouth parted in surprise, and her hands grasped his shoulders to steady herself. The bonnet slipped from her fingers and was caught by the wind. It rolled and bounced and was ignored by both of them. She searched his face, and what she saw made her close her eyes. His mouth covered hers, and if she hadn't already been dangling above the ground, surely she would have floated half again as high.

They were oblivious to the miners and merchants who paused on the perimeter of Portsmouth Square, caught in mid-stride by the exuberance of the lovers. They didn't hear the appreciative applause or enthusiastic whistles. They could have been alone in their own room.

Berkeley buried her face against Grey's shoulder as she steadied herself. She was catching her breath again, this time for a very different reason. Surrept.i.tiously she lifted one hand to her mouth and touched the faintly swollen outline of her lips. She could still feel the pressure of his kiss, the taste and texture of him as he had drawn her out and into him.

She smiled a bit shakily as she stepped back.