"This doesn't change anything," Grey said.

"I know." She was beaming. Her eyes were radiant. "I know.''

His brows came together. He spoke slowly, as if to a child. "I mean I'm still angry with you."

"Yes," she said. Her smile didn't fade at all. "But it doesn't change anything. You don't love me any less. I'm just understanding that part."

Grey shook his head, relief and exasperation tugging at his expression. "It's d.a.m.n well about time." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along, stopping just once to scoop up the wayward bonnet.

Anderson Shaw stood at the window of his room. He didn't turn until Grey and Berkeley disappeared from his narrow view of the street. "I think I made the better bargain,'' he told Garret.

Garret Denison shrugged and dropped himself casually into the overstuffed arm chair. He leaned back his head and momentarily closed his eyes. "I got what I came for," he drawled softly.

"Are you certain?"

The question surprised Garret. What was its purpose? "What are you saying? That I'm wrong about the earring?" He sat up and looked behind him for Anderson's reply.

"No, only wondering if you're sure."

"Of course I'm sure. It's not easily mistaken. There's not another like it."

Anderson said nothing. Actually, he was thinking, there were two.

Berkeley disappeared into the dressing room as soon as she and Grey returned to their suite.

"Don't think you can hide in there!" Grey called from behind his desk in the library. He poured a cup of tea for each of them from the tray Annie Jack had prepared. To Berkeley's he added a dollop of honey. He held out the cup to her as she swept back into the room. She had removed her cloak and bonnet. The reticule and gloves were gone as well. His eyes dropped to her hands. They were empty. "I believe, ma'am, you have something that belongs to me."

Berkeley reached for her tea, but Grey drew it back suddenly. She frowned.

"My knife?" he asked.

Berkeley had the grace to blush. "You might have said something before I went to all the trouble to put it under the armoire."

"Why on earth would you put it there?"

"To make it appear it fell out of your boots when you dropped them there."

Grey said nothing. His look in response to this bit of misguided subterfuge told Berkeley quite clearly what he thought of it "You'll be so kind as to get it for me."

"If you must have it." She sighed. A few moments later she was exchanging the knife for a cup of tea.

Extending his leg, Grey slipped the blade back into the sheath inside his boot. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Berkeley watching him with some consternation. "Did you think perhaps that I had another?"

"I thought you must," she offered lamely. "Somewhere.

Though I admit I was distressed when I couldn't find one. It would have been my first choice."

Grey could only shake his head with a vague sense of disbelief. He pointed to the chair opposite his desk. "Sit down, Berkeley."

She sat. It was not so very different than her first interview with him, she thought. He had not been complimentary regarding her intelligence on that occasion either. "I know you think I've acted unwiselya"

"Not in all things," he said quietly. He saw her head come up and rivet her attention on him. "But yes, it's difficult to act or think reasonably when one is as frightened as you were. I wish you could have trusted me with your fear, but I don't fault you for it. It was just last night that I finally understood the only thing that really frightened you was losing me. In your own way you were trying to protect me. Have I got it right?"

She nodded. Her cup rattled a bit against the saucer. She steadied her grip.

"Thinking back," Grey said, "I believe it's been about eight days since you discovered Garret was in San Francisco and Anderson was alive." He saw by the slight widening of her eyes that he had hit the time just about right. "That would make it the day after our wedding. You and I had had a disagreement, and I walked out. When I came back you weren't in the suite. Someone said they thought you were preparing to move your belongings from your room into ours. I went looking for you. Do you remember meeting me in the hallway?"

Berkeley's eyes dropped a fraction. She remembered throwing herself at him. She had been desperate to get him away from her room. "I remember," she said. Her voice was reedy, not like her own. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Perhaps if you drank some tea," Grey suggested gently.

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course."

He covered his faint smile by drinking from his own cup. He watched her over the rim a moment before he set it down. "I have fond memories of that afternoon. You were rather insistent in your attentions, as I recall." Grey saw her cheeks pinken. "I'd like to think your desire was not solely to keep me from your room."

Berkeley bit down on her lip.

"Oh, then perhaps it was."

"No," she said quickly. "That was part of it, of course. A good measure, I should think. At least at first. But when we were alone, and I knew there wasn't any immediate danger, well, then it wasa well, then it was just desire, I suppose."

Under the desk Grey crossed his legs at the ankles. He leaned back in the leather chair. "So they were in your room then."

"Yes." Berkeley looked at him oddly. "You just saida oh, I see, you weren't entirely certain. You fl.u.s.tered me into that admission."

Grey thought he shouldn't be feeling so smug. It was too early for that. Berkeley wasn't likely to be tricked as easily again. "Tell me what they wanted."

"Garret wanted the earring. I was wearing it around my neck but under my dress. I couldn't give it to him as a necklace. Anderson would have known immediately that it was the fake. He knew I couldn't have tolerated the real one next to my skin. I needed time, and I bargained for it. Your arrival was helpful. Anderson was going to escort me back to our suite for me to get the earring. I'm not sure how I would have managed if you hadn't appeared. Did you suspect then that I wasn't alone?"

"I merely suspected something was wrong. You said you had seen me arrive. I wondered at the lie. It was an odd thing to tell me when I came in the front of the hotel and your rooms face the rear."

Berkeley didn't recall saying anything of the kind. "I chatter sometimes when I'm nervous."

"Oh? I hadn't noticed."

She regarded him suspiciously. His eyes were not so cool as their flint color would have suggested. "Hhmmpf."

Grey suppressed a grin. "And Anderson? What was his game?"

"To torment me."

Grey waited, expecting some further revelation. When Berke-ley remained silent he realized she was quite serious. "You mean it, don't you? That's all he wanted."

"And money. But that was part and parcel of his torment. As a boy Anderson was the sort who liked b.u.t.terflies better without their wings."

"As a man, too," Grey said quietly. Berkeley had never lost the vaguely fey, otherworldly expression that focused beauty in her eyes. Anderson would have tried hard to steal that from her.

Berkeley shifted uncomfortably under his steady regard. "I'm hardly a b.u.t.terfly."

"More like a woodland fairy."

One lightly feathered brow kicked up. She gave him a patently skeptical look. "I would rather be seen simply as a woman."

"That's never been lost on me," Grey said.

Berkeley smiled. She remembered the fish wagon and the Ducks and her sprint across the wharf to find protection with this man. He had seen through her disguise almost from the first.

Grey's own smile faded as he returned to the serious matter before them. "You and Anderson came to San Francisco carrying the earring," he said. "Is it your understanding that he was working more on the behalf of my brother than the Thornes?"

"That's my understanding now. I didn't have any idea until I met Garret here. Apparently Garret is the one who pointed Anderson in the direction of Boston and the Thornes. I was never clear on how he came by his initial information. Your brother must have supplied him with a starting point for the search."

"Do you think he is my brother?" Grey asked.

"You mean is he the brother of Colin and Decker Thorne?'' Had she not been holding the teacup, she would have turned over her hands in a helpless gesture. "I don't know," she said softly. "I've wondered the same thing myself. But I don't think Anderson's really told him everything about the Thornes. Garret doesn't seem to know about their search for their youngest brother. I started to tell him some things, but Anderson was insistent that I not talk about it." Berkeley took another swallow of her tea. "Garret has a strong attachment to the earring, but it was clear to me that he doesn't comprehend the origins of it."

"You mean he couldn't spot that it was a fake."

"No, I don't mean that at all. I think there must have been a story about the earring in the Denison family. Something to explain its presence. Garret believes the initials engraved on the gold drop are his mother's. Evaline Randolph. I don't think he meant Anderson or me to overhear. He has no idea the earringa"if it were one of the original paira"would be more than three hundred years old."

"He doesn't know he was adopted."

"You and I don't know that either. It could be that you were the one plucked from Cunnington's London Workhouse." She sighed. "The truth is that you and Garret look more like each other than either of you resemble the Thornes. Your smile, I think, is a little like Colin's. There's a certain edge to it."

"He's Lord Fielding, you said. The Earl of Rosefield."

"Yes, that's right. But you have very little in common with Decker."

"The reformed thief."

"Your friend," she emphasized. "If you could but remember that. You are Graham Denison after all. That question has been settled if little else. Anyway, I was thinking of his appearance. His coloring is a shade darker than yours, and he's quick with a smile. He has a way of looking relaxed even when he's taut as a bowstring." She regarded Grey's current posture: the slope of his shoulders as he stretched out in the chair; the eyelids that were raised just a fraction above half-mast; the casual way his arms were folded across his chest. Berkeley bent to one side and looked under the desk. His ankles were crossed.

"Would you be feeling the slightest bit tense right now?" she asked curiously.

"Taut as a bowstring."

"Oh, my."

"Indeed," he said dryly. "I suppose the only people who can properly unravel the mystery are our parents."

"James and Evaline."

He nodded slowly, rolling the names over slowly in his mind. "It seems they've been able to keep a secret all these years." He raised one hand and absently touched his temple. He rubbed the spot with his fingertips, unaware of the gesture.

Berkeley watched Grey's brows draw together and tension creep into the line of his mouth. "Your head?"

He nodded. The small movement brought almost blinding pain to the backs of his eyes.

Jumping to her feet, Berkeley rounded the desk. "Lean forward. Put your head on your arms on the desk. Close your eyes." She gave him a gentle push, and it was enough to get him started. As soon as he was bent over she began ma.s.saging the back of his neck and shoulders. "Have you remembered something?"

"No." Nothing that he could understand or explain. He groaned softly as Berkeley's fingers kneaded his flesh. There was a measure of relief almost immediately. And still there was other business. "Why didn't Anderson deliver the earring to Garret after you left Boston?"

"I can't be certain," she said. "Two reasons occur to me. The obvious one is that the Thornes arranged our pa.s.sage. The Remington Line. Jonna chose the ship herself and there were no scheduled stops until we reached Panama. It would have been difficult for Anderson to suggest that we needed to go to Charleston first. Especially Charleston. The Remington ships aren't necessarily welcomed there. There is still some suspicion that Jonna and Decker were intimately involved in the Falconer business."

"With me," Grey said dully.

"Yes. With you."

Grey considered that he had a great deal to answer for. He wondered about his first contact with Decker Thorne. Had he initiated it or had it been the other way around? Perhaps they had been introduced by a third party, and a friendship had been forged without any awareness of their deeper common bond. "And the other reason Anderson didn't give the earring to Garret?"

"He may have had some idea that he could extort more money from the Thornes for it. Remember, Anderson believes it's genuine. I made certain he couldn't doubt me by having the earring removed from the necklace and carrying it in my bag today. I also wore gloves so I wouldn't have to handle it directly."

"And if he had insisted you put it in your hand?"

"I would have given him the performance he expected." She ran her fingers across Grey's shoulder blades. "I think Anderson decided to inform Garret about the earring only after he saw you."

"Saw me? Why would that make him likely to contact Garret? It would have made more sense for him to write to Boston and tell the Thornes."

Berkeley's hands stilled momentarily.

Grey felt her hesitation. He turned his head and tried to look at her. "Berkeley? Don't dissemble now. What do you know?"

She gently turned his head and resumed kneading. "It's not what I know, but what I suspect. I don't think Anderson thought you could be found. I think he believed you were dead. More to the point, he knew that Garret believed you were dead." She pressed his head back when Grey would have turned again. "Garret said something this morning that has never sat quite right. He said you didn't have the earring the last time he spoke to you. He said you made a point of telling him you lost it. Those are almost his exact words. He believed you were lying, that you had actually sold it."

Berkeley waited for Grey to catch her point. Perhaps the headache was making it difficult for him to think. She went on. "It suggests to me at least that Garret saw you sometime after you left Boston. You'd had the earring until then. That means he may have seen you in Philadelphia where you left the Siren or, far more likely, in Charleston, where you traveled in secret to meet him."

Grey's headache was powerful enough now to make him sick to his stomach. "Why the h.e.l.l would I do that?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Taking him by the elbow, Berkeley helped Grey to his feet and led him into the bedroom. He dropped like a stone onto the bed while she dampened some cloths in the basin. She placed one across his eyes then blocked more light from the room by closing the drapes. "Better?"

"Hmmm." He thumped the s.p.a.ce beside him with his palm.

Berkeley sat down and took his hand. "I imagine you went to Charleston to make your good-byes. Perhaps to make amends.''

He snorted. "Doubtful."

"You're probably right. There's nothing about your character that would lead me to believe you could have a thoughtful or considerate nature."

Grey winced.

"Good," Berkeley said, satisfied her barb had found its target. "That was meant to hurt." She dropped her lips softly to his mouth and sweetly extracted some of the sting.

"It's a great deal of supposition," Grey said quietly.

"I know. It may also be the truth."

"I know."

"Garret could have been responsible for the beating that almost killed you. He may have planned just that end."