His Heart's Revenge (The Marshall Brothers Series, Book 2) (49 page)

When it was over and their breathing calmed, Katy did not move from the circle of his arms. "I would never do anything to shame you," she said when she thought he had fallen asleep. "Never."

Logan said nothing about Katy's forlornly whispered words or the hot tears that scalded his chest. He felt her pain as keenly as if it had been his own.

Chapter 14

Michael's invitation arrived on Wednesday. Katy stared at Michael's bold, decisive scrawl and wondered how she had ever mistaken a similar invitation as one of Ria's. He wanted to meet her in the afternoon on the following day. Katy understood now that Ria would be gone and that she could expect no interference from any of Michael's staff. She wanted to scream her frustration, wanted to throw things. What she did was slip the invitation under the sleeve of her gown and go to the nursery to be with Victoria. Her daughter seemed the only anchor in a world of shifting, dangerous tides.

At Printing House Square where the
Chronicle
was published, someone else's world was shifting. Logan sat back in his swivel chair, his feet resting on an open desk drawer, and stared at the quartered sections of a photograph he had arranged on his knee. The photograph had arrived innocuously enough in a plain envelope addressed to him in care of the paper. It sat on his cluttered desk most of the morning with a dozen other pieces of mail he didn't have time to go through. Just before lunch he organized the pile, slicing through the envelopes one at a time with a sterling silver letter opener. He stopped, and the remainder of the pile was forgotten when he reached number three. Neatly torn pieces of the photograph fell onto his lap and a note, penned in a neat, spare style, had only one word: Whore.

Logan made a fist around the note, crumbling it. Disgusted, he pitched it across the room, where it bounced off a window before it fell to the floor. The photograph was Katy. There was no mistaking that in spite of how the picture was torn across her lower face. It was not an especially good photograph. The composition was grainy, the lighting poor. The length of her naked legs was underexposed. Logan knew this was not his sister-in-law's work. He remembered very well the photograph he found on the studio stairs, and he also remembered Katy's reaction to it. She had torn it up, tossed it in the fireplace, and torched it.

Logan picked up one of the pieces, rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger and then examined his hand. The pads of his fingers were gray with the residue of ash. He thought about that a moment, putting a similar chain of events together in his head. Katy had been given the photograph, quartered it, and very deliberately pitched it in a hearth. At some point, however, before the picture was burned, it had been retrieved. By whom?

Logan dropped the four parts of the photograph in his pocket and stood. Crossing the room he found the wrinkled wad of paper he had thrown earlier. He smoothed it out on the surface of his desk and examined it again. Whore. The handwriting was simple and spare, lacking flourish or embellishment. It was also unfamiliar.

He had many more questions than answers. The only thing the photograph possibly explained was Katy's distracted, secretive manner of late. Logan examined the postmark on the envelope and saw the letter was mailed from within the city. Masterful detective work, he mocked himself. He had just eliminated all but the city's nearly one million population and tens of thousands of its visitors.

But Katy would know. It was to that end that Logan picked up his coat from the back of his chair and shrugged into it. A few minutes later he was hailing a hack on Broadway.

* * *

Katy would not let Duncan take her bonnet or her cape after he let her in the foyer. She did allow him to assist her with Victoria's carriage, but she took her daughter out immediately, refusing him the opportunity to bill and coo over the little girl. He showed her quickly to the parlor where Ria was waiting for her. This time the door was not locked behind Katy.

"Thank you for seeing me, Ria," she said. In her arms Victoria began to fuss. "When I sent Joe over here with the message, I did not know if it would be possible. I appreciate you making time for me."

"Making time? Really, Katy, you make it sound as if my calendar is overflowing with commitments. I will always have time for you." Ria watched Victoria's small face redden as she twisted in her mother's arms. "May I?" she asked, extending her hands, palms up.

"Of course." Katy handed Victoria over, and her daughter quieted instantly. Katy understood what Ria did not. Victoria's fussing was due mainly to her own nervousness.

Ria tickled Victoria's chin and spoke nonsense to her until the child began to laugh. Satisfied, Ria pointed to the settee and invited Katy to sit down. "I thought your request to see me today was a matter of some urgency," she said. "Or was I reading into it?"

Katy sat down while Ria slowly paced the area in front of the fireplace. Victoria's dimpled fingers reached for the lustrous pearl buttons at the front of Ria's gown. "No," said Katy, "you are right. It is urgent that I talk with you."

"I wish I had been able to keep my promise to invite you earlier," she said, sighing gently. "It just was not possible."

"I understand. Actually, it is on the matter of your invitation that I've come. You see, I did receive something from you... or at least I thought it was from you." Katy's discomfort was evident in the way she fidgeted with the folds of her pale lilac gown. "This is difficult for me, Ria... I am not certain how to—"

Ria's attention turned from Victoria to Katy. The expression in her dark green eyes was frank and knowing. "It is Michael, isn't it? That is what you want to tell me."

"Yes," she whispered, embarrassed for herself and for Ria. "It was Michael who sent for me. He wanted to talk to me about Victor's will."

"And what else? You see, I am well aware that there is always something else with Michael. Usually it is a woman. Plainly speaking, I am happy that he has other women because it keeps him out of my bed."

"Ria! I am not one of your husband's women!"

"It had occurred to me that your dislike of each another might merely be a facade for deeper feelings."

"For my part, the only deeper feeling is one of disgust. I am sorry. I realize he is your husband, but I have no liking for Michael. I never have."

"What can I do for you?" asked Ria. "Understand that I have little influence on my husband. I only ever asked that he not conduct his affairs openly. Thus far, I've been satisfied with the arrangement."

Katy stood, hesitated, and then crossed the room to the escritoire. "Michael wants me to be his mistress, Ria. He has for a long time."

In spite of her earlier words to the contrary, a brief look of pain shadowed Ria's gentle features. "I see," she said. Now she sat down, holding Victoria on her lap. Her play with the baby was distracted. "I am still not certain what it is you want from me."

"The key to this desk."

Ria blinked, frowning. "But I do not have a key."

Katy removed her bonnet and took a pin from the smooth coil of her honey hair. She held it up for Ria to see. "May I?"

There was a moment of uncertainty on Ria's part before she nodded. "Very well." She turned away so that she did not have to see what Katy was doing and entertained Victoria with a game of peek-a-boo and pat-a-cake.

Katy worked for five frustrating minutes before she managed to slip the lock. Relief was short-lived. The drawer that had contained the photographs was empty. Swearing under her breath, Katy examined all three drawers. None held the damaging pictures. She sat down heavily on the chair and stared out the window.

"What is it?" asked Ria. "Haven't you found what you're looking for?"

Katy could only shake her head in reply. Her throat ached with suppressed tears of anger.

"Perhaps if you told me," said Ria. She carried Victoria to Katy's side, patting the baby's back.

Turning in her chair, Katy lifted her pale and troubled face to Ria. "Is Michael at the store?"

"Yes. He will be there until late this evening."

"Ria, I need to talk to him. It is important. He expects me to meet him here tomorrow and I cannot do it. I do not know why I ever thought I could. Even his threats don't matter anymore."

"What has exactly has Michael threatened?"

Katy stood and pushed her chair under the escritoire. "I have to go while I still have my nerve."

"You cannot mean to take Victoria."

Katy picked up her bonnet and smoothed the ribbons between her fingers. No, it would not be right to take Victoria with her, and it might further infuriate Michael to meet his presumed half-sister. "I will take her home first."

"Nonsense. Leave her with me. I would be happy to sit with her until you return. In fact, I will enjoy it."

And she would. Katy could see that. She held Victoria with the ease of someone used to holding a child. Ria was not bothered by Victoria's flailing arms or her constant babbling. She responded naturally to all of Victoria's movements, instinctively seeming to know what it was the little girl wanted. "All right," she said. "Her carriage is in the foyer. There are a few toys in there that she likes, and she will want a little sugar water and—"

Ria laughed. "I am sure we will manage just fine. You cannot imagine how I have been looking forward to a day just like this." Her smile softened, growing faintly sad as she looked at Victoria. "It will almost be like—" She broke off. "Go on, Katy. I admit I do not understand why you need to talk to Michael, but I can see that it is very important to you."

Katy kissed her daughter on the forehead and then carefully slipped on her bonnet. "I won't be long. What I have to say to Michael will not take above a minute."

Ria thought about that after Katy left. She tapped Victoria's button nose with the tip of her finger. "Then we will have to hurry, won't we, darling? Mama's not going to let you out of her sight again." With that she left the parlor and mounted the staircase to her room.

* * *

Mrs. Brandywine's smile widened when she saw Logan coming in the front door. "This is a surprise," she said, glancing at the tall pendulum clock standing in one corner of the entrance hall. She wiped her hands on her apron and reached to take Logan's hat. Belatedly she realized he was not wearing one. "Should I have Mrs. Morrisey prepare luncheon for you?"

"That will be fine. I'll have it with Katy."

"Mrs. Marshall isn't here. She took the baby out for a walk, oh, over an hour ago, I'd say. She should be back any time."

Logan was not very good at masking his disappointment. The quartered pieces of photograph in his pocket seemed to weigh him down. "I'll wait for her in the dining room. Make certain she knows I'm here."

"Of course." Mrs. Brandywine's smile faded as Logan brushed past her. She sensed his anxiety.

Logan sat at the head of the dining table with his heels propped on the table's edge. That only lasted the first few minutes. He told himself there was no urgency in seeing Katy; he could easily wait until this evening to show her the photograph. And yet he couldn't. He pushed away from the table and paced off the area in front of the windows.

Words that Katy had whispered in the stillness of their bedroom came back to Logan now. I would never do anything to shame you. Had she been referring to this photograph? Did she really believe that it would change the way he felt about her? Oh, Katy, he thought, come home right now so I can tell you how little this matters to me. He could not stand the thought that she had been frightened by the threat of exposure.

He sat down again and tapped out a rhythm on the table's edge with his fingertips. He promised himself he would not keep checking his pocket watch and failed to keep the promise. The door to the dining room opened once and Logan looked up hopefully, but it was only Mrs. Morrisey checking to see if Logan still wanted to wait for his wife. He did.

After nearly an hour, Logan's patience came to an end. He went in search of the housekeeper and found her in the front parlor. "Is it usual for Katy to be gone so long?" he asked.

Mrs. Brandywine excused the young maid she had been talking to before she spoke to Logan. "Not precisely usual," she said, "but no reason to be alarmed. Was she expecting you?"

"No. She thinks I am at the paper."