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

by Jo Goodman

  "I hope you are right," she said, gathering her scattered thoughts and presenting the bravest front she could. She stood. Her knuckles were white where she gripped her beaded bag. "Is there anything I should be doing, um, anything special because of the baby?"

  "Come see me next week and we will discuss it. You will be over the initial shock by then, and you'll have a hundred or so questions for me. Write them down as you think of them. In the meantime, do not change anything you're doing now. The nausea will pass and you will start to notice a weight gain instead of this loss. Talk to Victor, assure yourself that I'm right about his reaction." Scott stood and came around his desk. He did not have to force a smile. "Congratulations, Mrs. Donovan."

  That was when Katy began to cry.

  * * *

  Logan poked his head into Scott Turner's office. "Alone?"

  "You're here again? Didn't you just have dinner with us?"

  Grinning, Logan plopped himself down in the chair Katy had vacated minutes earlier. It was still warm. He caught the hint of her fragrance. In his mind he had a fleeting vision of Katy's slender hand resting on his chest, her mouth pressing against his shoulder. He turned in his chair and threw one leg over the arm, trying to pretend a casualness he didn't feel. "Your wife feels sorry for me, Scott," he said. "So it's dinner again. I cannot help it that she's made me the object of her good works."

  "She is happily married, Logan."

  "So you say."

  "I'll start worrying when you show up at the breakfast table ahead of me." Scott closed the file on his desk and placed it on a corner stack. "If I thought you were a real threat, I would not let you through the front door." He stretched, leaned back, and cradled his head in the palms of his hands. "Unless there is an emergency, I am done for the day. Can I get you anything to drink?"

  "No, nothing for me. Was that your last patient I just saw leaving? She almost knocked me down out there. I don't think she even saw me." Logan knew for a fact that Katy hadn't realized how close she had come to barreling into him. He had managed to sidestep her at the last possible moment, and she had never looked up. Dumbstruck, Logan had found himself staring in her direction long after she had disappeared into a waiting carriage. "I thought she looked a little like Victor Donovan's wife."

  "You should know," Scott said. "The Chronicle has printed her picture enough times."

  "That's not precisely the confirmation I was hoping for."

  "If you are looking for a story, Logan, then that is all you're going to get from me. My patients are entitled to their privacy. You are one of them, remember?"

  Logan held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "No story. Just personal curiosity. She appeared to be upset."

  "That would be an understatement." Scott got up and poured himself a cup of tea. He added a generous dollop of honey and stirred the brew idly, wondering about Logan's interest.

  "She's not ill, is she? I mean, not really ill? I realize she would not have come to see you if she weren't sick." Logan wondered if he sounded unconcerned. He did not feel that way. "I've known Victor Donovan since I was a boy. In fact, he introduced me to his bride when I saw them at the theatre a while back. Whatever you tell me is not for publication."

  Scott put down the spoon and sipped his tea. "No, Logan, she is not even a little bit ill. And for future reference, I would not tell you if she were."

  "You certainly have a knack for making yourself unclear."

  "Good. I will take that as a compliment."

  They bantered several minutes longer until Scott was called away by his wife. He never gave a thought to the files on his desk. Logan had never stopped thinking about them.

  * * *

  "I will understand if you want to divorce me," Katy told Victor. She was sitting across a candlelit table from her husband. Two glasses of wine had brought a flush to her cheeks and given her a measure of courage. Ria was eating in her own room this evening, and Michael had gone to the club. Katy could not think of a better time to broach the subject of her pregnancy. It was fated, she decided.

  "Divorce you?" Victor asked after he had waved away the hovering servants. "What nonsense is this?"

  Katy realized she was putting the cart before the horse. The wine was more potent than she thought. "I am saying this rather badly, Victor. I just want you to know before I go on that you can divorce me. It is a perfectly reasonable expectation for me to have."

  "All right," he said gently, "now that it's been said, perhaps you will explain why I would want to do that." He wished he could ease her fears ahead of time; tell her that he already knew what she was trying to say. Her honesty touched him. "Katy?" he said, prompting her. "Why would I want to divorce you?"

  Katy took another long swallow of wine. "Because I am pregnant." She said it so quickly that even to her own ears it sounded like one word.

  "I see."

  Silence yawned between them. "That's all? You don't have anything else to say?"

  Searching Katy's exquisite face, Victor said, "I wish with all my heart that it were my child."

  "Oh, God." Katy's features crumpled, and she hid her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. She heard the door to the dining room open and then Victor dismissing the servant in a rough tone he rarely used at home. She wished he would yell at her, say out loud all the horrible names she was calling herself. Slut. Whore. Victor did not deserve such shabby treatment at her hands. She did not deserve Victor.

  "Katy darling," Victor said softly. He left his chair and came around the table. Taking her wrists, he gently pulled Katy to her feet and cradled her in his arms as unhappiness shuddered through her. He murmured her name repeatedly in a gentle, soothing voice while she apologized for being all the terrible things she thought she was.

  "Your shirt is soaked," she said shakily when Victor handed her a handkerchief.

  He dismissed her concern. "Blow."

  She did, giving him a watery smile when she was finished. "Thank you."

  "Let's go upstairs," he suggested. "It is obvious we need to talk about this and just as obvious that we will have little privacy here. Go on, I will talk to Duncan about sending up a tray with our meal."

  Katy left Victor reluctantly and went to the rooms they shared. She was sitting on the edge of the settee, uncomfortable and uncertain, when Victor walked in. Her hands were folded in her lap, but her agitation was evident each time she plucked at her wedding ring.

  Victor's eyes dropped to the betraying nervous movements of her beautiful hands. His faint smile held a hint of sadness. "I am never going to ask you to take that ring off," he said. "There is no divorce unless it's what you want."

  Katy's head shot up and her eyes widened. "I don't want it," she whispered, her throat aching. "But you... are you certain?"

  He sat beside her. In the late evening light his hair was more silver than iron gray, and the lines about his mouth and eyes seemed to be cut a little deeper. "I'm certain," he said gravely. "I shall be quite happy to provide for you and your child. Our child. Do you understand, Katy? When I married you I knew this was a possibility, even if you did not fully comprehend it. I had hoped, I suppose, that if there were a child early on, then there would be no way of knowing whose it was. Now I find that it doesn't matter that I know I am not the father. I am willing to accept the baby as mine. Oh, no. Don't start crying again. I cannot believe you could possibly have any tears left." He chuckled to himself as Katy launched herself into his arms. His smile rested against her honey hair and occasionally he kissed the crown of her head.

  "Why are you so good to me?" she asked.

  There was only one answer for that. "I love you."

  "Oh, Victor," she said sadly. She knew then that she would never be able to return his love with the depth of emotion he shared with her. Admiration, respect, great affection, and gratitude were paltry substitutes when compared to the love he bore her. She loved Victor, yes. But even if she said the words, they would both know her lov
e was not the equal of his. Katy was filled with emptiness. Until this moment, she had not thought such a contradiction possible.

  "You want this baby, don't you?" asked Victor.

  Katy raised her face. "I... yes. Yes, I want my baby."

  "And what about Logan?"

  "Logan? What does he have to do with anything?"

  Victor laughed, hugging her, then set her away from him. "Oh, darling, I am certain you would like to believe you did it all alone, but your child does have a flesh and blood father. What are your intentions regarding Logan?"

  "I have none."

  "Then you are not going to tell him that he is the father?"

  "No! Even if you sent me away, I would not tell Logan about the baby. He has no rights to my child."

  "I will not hold you to that," Victor said. He got to his feet and walked to the window. On the corner, a vendor was trying to sell the last few bunches of flowers from his cart. A beat cop sauntered along, swinging his stick in time with his jaunty stride. Victor loosened the sashes, closing the drapes. The room darkened. "There may come a time when you feel differently."

  "I can't imagine that."

  Victor shrugged. "Perhaps not. I just want you to understand that if, let's say, circumstances change, and you want to acknowledge Logan as the father, then you have my permission."

  "I would never embarrass you that way," she said.

  He could not be embarrassed after he was dead. Victor let the thought echo inside his head and said nothing out loud.

  "You are not angry with me?" she asked into the silence.

  "Angry? Because I am going to be a father? Never."

  Katy's heart lightened. Trust Victor to know exactly the right thing to say.

  * * *

  Ria Donovan did not look up from the book she was reading when Katy walked into the library. The morning sun was behind her, throwing her face into shadow, and she knew it protected her from Katy's searching gaze. Ria had caught her reflection in the mirror earlier, and in spite of the cold compresses, her eyes were still puffy and her complexion blotchy from long bouts of weeping. She found herself resenting Katy's breezy entry, the happiness inherent in her step, then despised herself for her uncharitable thoughts.

  "Here you are," Katy said brightly, pretending she was not being ignored. "I have been looking everywhere for you."

  "I've been here."

  "Yes, well, I am going shopping, and I thought you might like to join me. It's such a beautiful day, there is no reason to spend it indoors. We could take a turn in the park if you like. We have not spent much time alone of late. I'd like to remedy that."

  Ria shut her book but continued to look down, pretending interest in her buffed nails. "Yes, I would like that, too," she said. Perhaps she could confide in Katy, she thought. Ria remembered that Dr. Turner had even assumed that Katy had been the one to suggest abortion. Until then Ria had not considered sharing her dilemma with Katy, but now it seemed perfectly reasonable that an actress would know how to direct her. "I'll need a few minutes to get ready. I want to change my dress."

  "Of course." Katy hesitated a moment, uncertain of Ria's mood. She felt ungainly in Ria's presence. Michael's wife was delicate and diminutive, soft-spoken and unfailingly correct in her gestures and manner. Self-conscious, she straightened the sleeves of her pink-and-white-striped gown, tucking a bit of lace edging back in place. Katy could only imagine that anyone drawing a comparison between the two Donovan women would find it was Victor's wife who was lacking. "I will get my bonnet and wait in the foyer," she said.

  Sunshine washed over the open carriage as it rolled sedately down Fifth Avenue. Katy's elaborately plumed bonnet protected her complexion while Ria was shielded by an apricot silk parasol. Their driver was impeccably turned out in a black top hat and livery. People on the crowded sidewalks glanced in their direction as they passed.

  "I am glad you came with me," Katy confided. "I can't get used to the kind of stares I receive since I became Victor's wife."

  "One would never know it," said Ria. "You always look supremely confident. I admit I am envious of your grace under pressure. I should like to be just a quarter as comfortable as you."

  That made Katy laugh. "Oh, Ria, if you only knew how I churn inside when I walk into a room of strangers."

  "But you are an actress."

  "When I am in front of an audience, I have a script," she said, sighing. "Would that I had someone writing for me in real life. Sometimes I grow weary of all the improvising. It is rare that I know what I am supposed to do in any situation."

  "I know what you mean."

  "Do you?"

  Ria thought she would never have a better opportunity. She plunged in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Can you recommend an abortionist?"

  "Ria! This is not the place."

  "There is no other place. At home someone might overhear, and Michael will find out."

  Katy glanced at the driver's back, asking Ria a question with her eyes.

  "Harris is practically deaf," said Ria. "That's why I specifically asked for him. Please, Katy. You must help. I cannot have this baby."

  "This is something you should talk over with Michael. I can't advise you."

  "I don't want your advice. I have already made up my mind. Tell me where I can go. You must know."

  She did know. It would have been hard to avoid conversations related to pregnancy and abortion while working at the Rialto. Katy had found herself learning things she would rather not have known. "Is this why you came with me this morning? Because you wanted information?"

  Ria nodded. "Please, do not take offense. I don't dare ask anyone else where I can go. No one else knows that I am pregnant. Just you and Dr. Turner. There is no one else I trust... no one at all."

  "I'm sorry, Ria." Katy shook her head. "I can't help you." It did not matter that the sky was still cloudless; the sunshine had vanished from Katy's day. "I also had an ulterior motive for inviting you to come with me. You are not the only one who has seen Dr. Turner recently. I was in his office yesterday and he, well, he didn't confirm my suspicions because frankly I had none, but he gave me the same news as you. I am going to have a baby, Ria."

  Blinking rapidly, Ria managed to halt the tears that welled in her eyes. "Then you have sentenced me to die," she said quietly, and turned away.

  Stricken, Katy asked for an explanation and received nothing in return. Her entreaties made no impact on Ria, and finally Katy had no choice but to tell the driver to return home. Once inside, Ria took to her room, locking the door behind her and barring Katy's way.

  * * *

  "You did the right thing to send for me," Scott assured Katy, dropping his bag on a dark oak end table. His eyes wandered to the rows of leather bound books filling the walls before he took a seat in one of the deep armchairs. "I have given her a powder to help her rest. She will probably sleep until dinner. What about Michael?"

  Katy shook her head and passed Dr. Turner a cup of tea. She sat down opposite him. "I wanted to hear what you had to say first," she said. "Ria told me this morning that you and I are the only ones who know she is pregnant. I was not comfortable being the one to tell Michael, especially when she is so desperate to rid herself of the child."

  "I can appreciate that. It would be better if Ria did herself, of course, but quite frankly, I'm not sure we can trust her to do that. Don't worry, I'll talk to Michael myself. I owe him a piece of my mind. This pregnancy was completely avoidable. He had no right to use his wife as if she were a breeding—" He stopped abruptly and looked away. "Forgive me. I've said more than I should."

  "It's all right. On reflection I suspected it was something like that. The pregnancy's going to be very hard on her, isn't it?"

  "Yes. Ria's had four miscarriages. The last one was... well, suffice it to say that I told her then she should not think about another child."

  "Is she going to die? Is that what she meant when she said I had sentenced her to death?"

&nbs
p; "God, she said that to you? No wonder you are as gray as ash." He set down his cup. "I will not lie to you, Mrs. Donovan. Ria's pregnancy is dangerous, but if she follows my instructions and takes care of herself, there's certainly a chance that she and her child will come out of this healthy."

  "What can I do to help?"

  "Do not tell her about Madame Restell," he said, naming the most expensive abortionist in the city. He saw that Katy knew the name.

  "I was surprised she didn't know," admitted Katy. "The woman is notorious."

  Scott sighed, pushing back a lock of yellow hair that had fallen across his forehead. "Thank God she is too naive to know such things. Ria's a gentle soul."

  And Michael Donovan was a beast, Katy thought. She thought of several things she would like to do to Victor's son, all of them excruciatingly painful.

  "And what about you?" asked Scott, changing the subject. "Does Victor know?"

  Katy found she could not help smiling. "You were right. He is very happy."

  "You?"

  "Oh, yes." She remembered all the tears in the doctor's office. Had that really only been yesterday? "Happy hardly describes it."

  Scott stood, picking up his bag. "Good. That's what one hopes for."

  Standing in the doorway, framed by white marble pilasters, Katy watched Dr. Turner drive off in his carriage. She shut the door slowly and leaned against it. Closing her eyes momentarily, she wondered how Victor would react to the news of impending grandfatherhood.

  Chapter 8

  "Holland! Come back here with that!" Jenny lurched forward in her chair to make a grab at her son. Holland laughed gleefully as his mother caught the waistband of his short pants. "Give me that photograph."

  Still giggling and holding the picture away, Holland glanced at his father. Christian was not smiling. Holland's dimples disappeared along with his laughter. "Here, Mama," he said, solemnly passing the photograph to Jenny.

  "Thank you," she said politely, letting him go. "Now play over there. I will be with you when your father and I are done." She added the photograph to the others spread out on the table in front of Christian. It was torn and crumbled at the edges, thanks to Holland's deathlike grip on it. "What do you think?" she asked her husband.