Colin realized immediately what this child had risked by coming forward. "That showed a lot of courage."

Nat screwed his mouth to one side. "Everyone says that," he said. "But here's what I don't get: How come it was brave for me to point them out so Brannan's men could hang them and foolish for me to follow them into the Phoenix in the first place?"

"There's a conundrum," Decker said sympathetically. He flipped the coin he'd been manipulating in Nat's direction. "Foolishness and courage. Could be they're two sides of the same coin."

Nat looked down at the gold piece in his hand. Heads. He turned it over carefully. Heads again. His eyes lifted in Decker's direction with frank awe.

Decker grinned. "Something to think about, isn't it?"

Colin sighed. "Now you've corrupted the boy."

"Oh, no, my lord," Nat said earnestly. "I was corrupted a ways back. Sam says it's not his d.a.m.n fault, but Mrs. Janeway says she's not so sure."

Decker laughed outright. Colin's smile was more reserved. "We were led to believe that you're a Janeway."

"Oh, I am," Nat said proudly. He jumped to his feet and jammed Decker's coin in his pocket. "Can't stay. Sam'll be wondering what's keeping me. Maybe you could show me those tricks later." He ducked his head quickly, avoiding the pair of eyes that had been able to keep him rooted before. Without waiting for Decker's reply or Colin's objections, Nat hurried out of the room.

Colin pushed himself up higher against the headboard. He raised one brow in his brother's direction. "What do you make of that?"

"Another conundrum."

Colin pulled the pillow from under his head and threw it hard.

There were triple the number of people in the gaming hall when Colin and Decker returned to it that evening. They had no particular plan as they descended the stairs. They had already traveled a great distance on the basis of a single letter sent to Decker months earlier. The author of the note did not identify himself or sign his name. He never mentioned Berkeley Shaw. What was clear, perhaps the only thing that was clear, was that he believed he needed to be cautious. If Decker or Colin Thorne wanted information about an heirloom earring, he wrote, one or both of them should come to San Francisco and register at the Phoenix. He thought he might be able to help them.

It was not the content that intrigued Decker when he received the missive, but the handwriting. He had only one example of Graham Denison's script: his signature in the ship's log when he had boarded the Remington Siren. There was enough of a match to raise Decker's hopes. He delayed his trip to wait for Colin. He couldn't imagine making this last leg of a very long journey without his brother.

No matter what the outcome of the search, the brothers shared the understanding that it ended here.

They saw her simultaneously, their eyes drawn in her direction first by the circle of men standing at attention, then by the reason for their attention. She was every bit the diamond in a bed of black velvet. Although she stood only shoulder height to most of the miners and gamblers, she stood out. It could have been the corn silk brightness of her hair against their dark clothes or the radiance of her complexion compared to their ruddier hues, but Colin and Decker didn't think so. It was not any one thing, but the whole of her, from the fey charm of her leaf green eyes to the laughter that broadened her smile.

This woman was a revelation to them.

Berkeley's eyes lifted slowly to the staircase. For the span of a heartbeat she could not think or feel or move. Darkness pushed at the edges of her consciousness. She wished she could faint, but her knees, locked in position, held her stiffly upright, and then she was breathing normally, just as if nothing were different than it had been one moment earlier.

Except something was different. Perhaps everything. They were here, in the hotel among the guests, and they were coming toward her.

"Mrs. Shaw," Colin said politely. He and Decker had made their way to the inner circle because Berkeley had been unable to look away from them. Her rapt attention did not go unnoticed by any of the men surrounding her. At first they were indecisive, uncertain if they should move in to protect her or step out of the way. In the end they chose the step backward.

Berkeley held out her hand. "It's Mrs. Janeway now," she said.

Colin continued to lift her hand smoothly, but he did not think she missed his surprise. He kissed her hand. "Mrs. Jane-way," he repeated softly. "You remember my brother?"

"Of course." When Colin released her hand she extended it to Decker. "Captain Thorne."

"Mrs. Janeway." He was as gallant in his attentions as his brother. "We've heard your praises sung almost from the moment we arrived. You can imagine that stories about a woman who seemed to be able to predict a disaster intrigued us."

Berkeley felt her smile faltering. "I imagine you would like an explanation."

"That comes to mind. Tell me, is there a Mr. Janeway?"

"We should go upstairs," she said. Her eyes darted to the men around her, and she smiled apologetically. "I doubt I'll be back down this evening." Berkeley ignored the murmur of disappointment. "This way."

Colin noticed that she seemed unaware of how the crowd parted for her. He and Decker were not. What was it Sam had told them earlier? She more or less runs the Phoenix. Mostly more. Not much gets by her. Behind her back Colin and Decker exchanged a look. Bankrolled by Thorne money, it appeared Berkeley and Anderson Shaw had done very well for themselves.

Berkeley climbed the stairs ahead of them, very much aware of their eyes boring into her back. She did not fault them for their anger. It was the most natural reaction when they understood so very little. For the benefit of those in the crowd still watching her, she continued to smile. It was the best way to protect Colin and Decker Thorne.

At the top of the stairs Berkeley paused and allowed them to flank her. "You must know that I was surprised to see you. No one told me that you were here. Are you registered guests of the Phoenix?"

"Mr. Pine and Mr. Pine," Decker said.

She nodded. "That explains it. Then you would be the one who impressed Nat with your sleight of hand. He was so excited trying to show me what he'd seen that I didn't stop him to discover the details." Berkeley turned her head so she could see Decker more clearly. "Why now? It's been more than six months since my husband wrote to you, Captain Thorne. Even accounting for the length of the voyage, it's been longer than I would have expected."

Decker's steps faltered. "Your husband wrote to me?"

Berkeley's brows drew together slightly as she sensed Decker's distress. "Yes, of course he did."

"Are we talking about the same correspondence?" he asked.

They had reached the door to her suite. "I imagine that we are. I never saw it, but he told me about it. I suspect he was too cautious and cryptic. Was that the reason for the delay? You weren't certain what to make of it?"

Colin twisted the handle and pushed open the door. "That would sum it up nicely," he said. He gestured Berkeley inside. "After you, Mrs. Shaw."

She hesitated. He had used her former name quite deliberately, Berkeley was sure of it. Had they somehow been in contact with Anderson? She hadn't considered that the Thornes would want to make trouble for her. "Janeway," she corrected softly.

"Yes," Colin said humorlessly. "I hadn't forgotten."

Berkeley was startled by his barely leashed anger. She wished his wife had accompanied him to temper it. It was difficult to be mindful of her own manners. She ushered them into the sitting room. "Please, won't you sit down?" She gestured to the cream-brocade settee and wing chairs. "Would either or both of you like a drink? The Scotch is plentiful, but the bourbon is almost gone." Berkeley raised one of the decanters on the sideboard and held it up for their approval. "Whiskey? I can ring for tea or some other liquor ifa""

"Sit down," Colin said.

Berkeley dropped like a stone into the rocker behind her. It creaked once, then she held it still. The flush that had been in her cheeks when they surprised her in the gaming hall was gone now. She felt as if all of her blood had pooled in her feet. They were leaden weights that kept her in place in spite of her wish to be anywhere else. What was troubling with these men? They were acting as if she'd done something wrong.

Searching for patience, Colin raked back his hair. Threads the color of sunshine fell forward over his brow, and this time he let them be. Now that he had her seated and quiet he had no idea where to begin. The explanations were clearly hers to make, yet he didn't think he wanted to hear anything she had to say just now. He swore softly as she continued to stare up at him. "Say something," he told his brother.

Decker's mouth twisted wryly. He had been looking around the sitting room, searching for some sign that a fire had swept through the suite. It wasn't apparent at first that his brother was talking to him. Decker pointed to the balcony. "Is that where Nat made his escape?" he asked.

Berkeley was bewildered by his interest but she answered. "You're talking about the fire?"

"Yes. Your son told us something of what happened here."

She didn't care at all for the way he spoke of Nat. "Yes, that's where he went," she said. Then, because they seemed to be expecting more from her she added, "You realize that Nat isn't my son by birth."

"Oh, Colin and I both came to that conclusion, having made your acquaintance in Boston, but we wonder that you've gone to the trouble of taking the boy in. Surely there were easier ways for you and your husband to hide than by a.s.suming a ready-made family."

Berkeley's eyes widened at his tone. "We took him in because we love him, not because we're hiding behind him. Really, Captain Thorne, you and your brother would be the last ones from whom I would expect such a jaundiced view. Where would either of you be if no one had shown an interest in you as children?"

"Dead," Colin said bluntly. "We would have both died in Cunnington's Workhouse."

Decker didn't disagree with his brother. He couldn't. "Forgive me, Mrs. Janeway, but your husband never struck me as a particularly compa.s.sionate man."

"How can you say that?" she demanded. "You were the one who told me about hisa"" She stopped. From the bedroom she heard a familiar cry. The response in her was instantaneous.

Berkeley's b.r.e.a.s.t.s swelled and beneath her sapphire evening gown she felt sweet droplets of milk dampen her chemise. Colin and Decker would have to physically restrain her to keep her away from her child. She didn't think it would come to that. Berkeley got to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, that's Rhea's hungry wail. I have to attend to my daughter."

She brushed past them, sweeping grandly from the sitting room into the small library.

Decker looked at Colin. "Rhea?" he asked. "Did she say her daughter's name was Rhea?"

"That's what she said."

"Did you hear a baby cry?''

"No, but then Mercedes says I never did when our children were infants. She, on the other hand, could hear them crying in another county."

Decker ignored most of what Colin said. "I didn't hear a baby. And who names their child after Neptune's mother?" He was starting to move in the direction of the adjoining room. "She thinks quickly, Colin. I'll wager she has another way out of this suite."

Colin followed close on his brother's heels. They went through the library quickly and to the door of the adjoining room. Decker yanked it open and found himself standing on the threshold of Berkeley's bedchamber. As he suspected, neither Berkeley nor her baby were in it.

But it wasn't empty.

From his bed, Grey Janeway looked up slowly as the door was flung open. He arched one eyebrow in Decker's direction. The stunned expression on Decker's face raised his own sly smile. "h.e.l.lo, Captain Thorne," he said quietly. Grey's eyes lifted just past Decker's head to where his brother was peering into the room over his shoulder. "And the Earl of Rosefield. Welcome."

Neither of the men moved. Framed by the doorway, their features as still and cold as marble, it was clear they could not take in what they were seeing.

Grey pushed himself a little more upright and rested his back against the headboard. Beneath the cotton coverlet the splint that kept his left leg immobile from knee to ankle was visible by its boxy outline. He raised his right leg and rested one forearm casually across the kneecap. "Forgive me if I don't get up. It's a d.a.m.n inconvenient thing, this injury. I do all right with the crutches now, but that's going to change. The doctor tells me another two weeks with this splint, then I have learning to walk again to look forward to. I shouldn't be surprised if Rhea has it mastered before I do."

From behind the closed door to the adjoining dressing room there came a series of frantic whimpers and gentle rea.s.surances. Finally there was silence. "Berkeley and Rhea," Grey said. Then he saw Colin and Decker glance in that direction. "Did you think she had gone?''

Decker hadn't yet found his voice, and Colin Thorne was unconcerned about Berkeley. Still, he could do no more himself than state the obvious. "You're not Anderson Shaw."

"No," Grey said, his grin deepening a fraction. "I'm not." He watched Colin's expression clear a little as the truth was borne home. "It doesn't appear my friend here is able to perform the introductions." Grey held out his hand. "Graham Denison," he said. "But I go by Grey Janeway now. I have for more than six years."

Colin slipped past his brother and reached for Grey's hand. The grip was firm, sure, and oddly familiar. "Your wife didn't tell us."

"Didn't she? That's odd. But then I don't know what's going on. Or not much of it. She marched through on her way to get Rhea and only told me that you and Decker were finally here and that there weren't brains or manners between the two of you. I gathered from that there was a problem."

"That would be understating it," Berkeley called in from the dressing room. "They've accused us of taking in Nat to hide behind, and they insist on calling me Mrs. Shaw. You'd better tell them how we lost the earring before they say we stole it. This reunion is not going at all as I thought it might!" Rhea wailed loudly as Berkeley's nipple was dislodged from her mouth. "Here, darlinga Mama's sorry. It's not your fault."

Grey grinned and pointed to Colin and Decker. "She's saying it's yours."

Decker finally found his voice. He pushed away from the doorframe and came to stand beside the bed. "What the h.e.l.l's going on, Graham? Did you pen the note I got a while back or not?"

"Grey. Not Graham," he corrected. "You'll have to get used to it. No one here except Berkeley knows I once had that name. All things considered, it's a name best left in the past."

"Jesus," Decker said softly. It was not his usual way to let things rattle him, or at least let it show. This was different. Everything about this meeting was too important. "I can't make heads or tails of this."

Grey chuckled. He carefully reached over to the bedside table and opened the drawer. After rooting around a moment he pulled out one of the coins Decker had given Nat. "What about heads or heads?'' he asked, holding it up. "I suspected you were here when Nat showed this to me."

"Are you talking about that coin?'' Berkeley called in. "You might have told me. I wouldn't have made a complete cake of myself if I had been expecting them."

It was Colin who responded. "You have nothing to apologize for, Mrs. Janeway. As you correctly noted, Decker and I don't have a brain between us."

"Or manners," Decker added.

When Berkeley didn't rejoin, Grey chuckled. "She's blushing." He pointed to the chairs by the fireplace. "Bring those over here and sit down. Were you offered something to drink? You'll have to serve yourself now, I'm afraid."

"Get the chairs, Colin," Decker said. "I'm feeling a need for that drink after all." He disappeared into the sitting room and returned shortly with a decanter of whiskey under his arm and the tumblers skillfully balanced between his hands. He set it all down and poured a drink three fingers deep for each of them.

Decker sat back in the armchair Colin had pulled to the bed. He stared at Grahama Grey, he reminded himself. There were not so many changes in the past six years. It was not so much that his friend had aged but that he had matured. There were fine lines at the corners of his mouth that deepened when he grinned, and his eyes, though their coloring had not changed, the flintlike hardness of them had. There was a slight softening of his features but not of his character. Resolve and purpose were still there, but there was a difference, too. In the past Decker would not have described Grey as either happy or content, now he seemed both. It was as if he had determined to risk happiness in exchange for the wry bitterness he used to embrace. This man was Graham Denison, and yet he wasn't.

Perhaps he had earned his new name and his new life.

Decker rolled the tumbler between his palms, warming the contents slightly. "So you're married now."

"Berkeley has my name," Grey said carefully. "We have a child together. And Nat, of course."

"What happened to Anderson?"

"Is that what you really want to know?" asked Grey. "We haven't laid eyes on each other for six years and you want to talk about Anderson Shaw?''

Decker chuckled shortly and pretended he didn't notice that Grey was holding something back. He shook his head slowly, looking Grey over from head to toe again. "My G.o.d," he said softly. "I can't believe we've found you."

"Berkeley found me."

"Yes, she did, didn't she?" It was almost too much to comprehend. "Where can you begin? I want to hear what's happened since you disappeared from the Siren."

"That will take some time."

It was Colin who looked pointedly at Grey's splinted leg. "You don't appear to be going anywhere soon." He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. "As for me, I came halfway around the world to hear this story. I'm certainly not leaving without it."

Grey wondered if they could see that his eyes were no longer quite dry. He glanced quickly toward the dressing room as if he'd been distracted by a sound from there and swallowed with some difficulty. Berkeley's timing was impeccable. She opened the door, Rhea caught in the curve of one arm, and immediately sensed his distress. It required very little effort on her part to make Rhea the focal point and allow Grey a moment longer to compose himself.

"Would you like to hold her?" she asked Colin. He had come to his feet as soon as she entered the room. "She's a good baby. Rarely cries except when she's hungry; then she carries on as if she has three stomachs to fill."

Colin came around the foot of the bed and held out his arms. He was unprepared when the words were raised in his mind again: They came for the baby first.

Rhea's dark sable hair was ruffled by her mother's affectionate touch. She had a round face and a quick, engaging smile. Her chubby limbs flailed at him, and she laughed at her play. Without effort or conscience, she charmed him, and it came to her as naturally as drawing a breath. It made Colin realize he was holding his. "Come here, Decker," he said quietly. "Look at her."

Decker moved to his brother's side, prepared to make amends with Berkeley by cooing over her baby. He said nothing, however. No words, however silly and meaningless, could make it past the hard aching lump in his throat Colin and Decker looked at each other first, and, without a word pa.s.sing between them, they each turned to Grey. "She looks just like you," Colin said.

"Do you think so?'' he asked. He tried to raise himself up to get a better look at his daughter's face. "Everyone here says she looks like Berkeley. Her hair's not the right color, of course, but that smilea""

"Is yours," Decker said. "The shape of her facea her haira even her eyes."

"She is my daughter."

"Grey," Berkeley said gently. "I think they're trying to tell you something else."