Jo Goodman

by My Reckless Heart

  My Reckless Heart

  The Thorne Brothers Trilogy

  Book Two

  by

  Jo Goodman

  MY RECKLESS HEART

  Reviews & Accolades

  "...a fabulous read. Jo Goodman writes with a unique and impressive style"

  ~Virginia Henley

  "Jo Goodman hooks you and keeps you glued to the pages."

  ~Kat Martin

  "...a treasure. The characters are guaranteed to steal your heart."

  ~Lisa Jackson

  Published by ePublishing Works!

  www.epublishingworks.com

  ISBN: 978-1-61417323-6

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  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 1998 by Joanne Dobrzanski. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  Cover by Kim Killion www.hotdamndesigns.com

  eBook design by eBook Prep www.ebookprep.com

  Thank You.

  For Donna Doo-dah...

  This is small thanks.

  Prologue

  London, October 1820

  It started with a handkerchief. Edged with lace, monogrammed with the letter R and hinting of the scent of musk and roses, Decker would never have difficulty calling it to mind. It was the first thing he learned to steal.

  "Here, boy. Keep your wits about you and take it out of my pocket." The trick, of course, was to do so without being detected. A difficult maneuver at best, what with two pairs of very interested eyes following his every move. An impossible maneuver, perhaps, given the fact Decker Thorne was only four.

  "He's nervous, cher." This observation was offered in a lightly accented, melodious voice. The owner of the voice was a woman whose kind and concerned expression softened her sky blue eyes. "And the carriage is bouncing. How can he do it?"

  The badly sprung carriage was indeed bouncing. Decker toppled forward as the driver veered around a milk wagon. He was caught between the man and woman and set back in his place only to have a collision with a rut almost unseat him again. His small, sturdy legs churned to keep him from being ejected from the padded leather seat to the floor. The movement twisted him around, and he caught a last glimpse of Cunnington's Workhouse for Foundlings and Orphans just before the carriage turned the corner.

  Decker couldn't read the name of London's venerable children's institution on the iron gate, but he understood it was the place he had been living these past four months, ever since the death of his parents. He righted himself in his seat and regarded the couple across from him with the deliberately frank and curious look that was peculiar to four-year-olds.

  "Shall you be my parents now?" he asked forthrightly.

  The question startled them. The woman blinked, and the man cleared his throat. For the time being, the handkerchief was forgotten. They exchanged uncertain glances. It was rather more than they had expected when they had approached Mr. Cunnington about taking one of his wards from the workhouse. Posing as missionaries, they had quite purposefully deceived the headmaster. Not, as they realized now, that their occupation would have made a whit of difference to the man. He had been cooperative, perhaps eager, to find a boy that would suit their needs as they described them. Cunnington would have been an even happier man if they had agreed to take Decker's older brother as well.

  It wasn't possible. They had concurred privately before going to the workhouse that one child, properly trained, could be an asset. A second mouth to support posed a liability. What they had not considered was that rescuing a child from Cunnington's Workhouse—and surely a rescue was what it was—gave them certain responsibilities, if not in their own minds, then at least in the mind of this child.

  He was still regarding them with that maddeningly candid and expectant expression. His gaze didn't waver, but seemed to encompass them both. His small mouth was slightly pursed, and the effect would have been cherubic if it had not been for those very wise blue eyes.

  The woman spoke first. "Not parents exactly," she said. "But family."

  "Yes," said the man. "Most assuredly family."

  Decker considered that. The distinction they made was not entirely understood, but neither was it missed. He nodded, filing this information away. "That's all right, then," he said solemnly.

  That air of gravity in one so young was the woman's undoing. Tears made her clear eyes luminous. She tried to blink them back.

  Seeing the tears, the man reached for his handkerchief. The lace-edged corner was no longer peeking out from his pocket. He thrust his hand inside to dig deeper and was genuinely puzzled when it came away empty.

  It was then the couple witnessed Decker Thorne's incorrigible grin and heard his bubbling laughter. Resistance wasn't possible. Jimmy Grooms and Marie Thibodeaux, for all that they were hardened to life's inequities, were not proof against the purity of a child's joy. Decker Thorne hooked their hearts as easily as he had snared Jimmy's handkerchief. That article of linen and lace now dangled from his chubby fingers as he offered it up to Marie.

  "He's a charmer," Marie said as she took the handkerchief.

  Jimmy was thinking much the same thing. Their choice had been a good one. He patted Marie's knee as she sniffed elegantly and dabbed at her eyes. "That was quite something, boy," he said. From Jimmy Grooms, who had been practicing light-fingered feats since he was eight, it was high praise. "When did you—" He broke off as the carriage slowed suddenly and Decker was catapulted out of his seat. Jimmy caught him easily and set him on his lap. "So that's the way of it, is it?" he said approvingly. "When you were tossed from your seat before. Good boy. Diversion is everything in the trade. And you are a diverting sort of fellow, aren't you?" Jimmy chuckled at his own play on words. "Ain't he a diverting sort, Marie?"

  Marie tucked the handkerchief into her cuff, then held out her hands to Decker. He went into her arms willingly, and she cuddled him close. "He's beautiful," she said against the crown of his head. Her breath fluttered strands of his dark hair, and the silky threads tickled her lips. "Beautiful. That's what he is."

  Marie Thibodeaux had never given any thought to her maternal nature or, until this moment, the lack of it. The urge to protect and nurture was strong in her now, almost overwhelming. As the oldest of five children she had mostly raised her siblings, yet she had never experienced this tug on her emotions. She'd cared for her brothers and sisters while her mother and father managed their tavern, and when she'd become more valuable on the Paris back streets than she was as a surrogate parent, she'd been sold as matter-of-factly as a skin of wine, and perhaps with less regret.

  It was Jimmy Grooms who eventually rescued her from that life. While he was in Calais to ply his trade during a summer festival, she caught his eye. He stole a pair of ivo
ry combs and used them as barter with her pimp. They left France that very evening in typical Jimmy Grooms style, stealing aboard a merchant ship scheduled to make a channel crossing. Marie had not known where she was going with the young Englishman, but she knew where she had been. Throwing her lot in with Jimmy Grooms was not a difficult decision. In the eleven years they had been together, he had never made a misstep or caused her to regret her decision. Marie's trust in him was absolute.

  And now he had given her this child. If Jimmy had any sense he'd make another proposal of marriage. This time Marie Thibodeaux was of a mind to accept.

  "What shall I call you?" Decker asked, raising his head from against Marie's breast. He saw them exchange glances again. Clearly they had not given this much thought.

  Jimmy Grooms rubbed the underside of his chin, his mouth screwed comically to one side. "Well, there's a poser," he said. "Uncle Jimmy sets nicely now that I say it out loud. What do you think, dear? Uncle Jimmy... Aunt Marie? We did say the boy was family."

  "Uncle Jimmy," she repeated softly. "Yes, that's fine." There was a small hesitation, then she added in a rush, "But I want him to call me Mere."

  Jimmy's brows lifted. He stopped rubbing his chin and studied her face. Marie was a handsome woman, not an especially pretty one, but she had a calming smile and a quiet way about her that transcended the notion of physical beauty. "Mere," he said in his deep, rich baritone. "Mother. I suppose the boy and others would think it was short for Marie. Who would know it means mother?"

  "I would know."

  He saw that it was important to her, and it was not in his nature to deny Marie. "Then Mere it is." Jimmy tapped Decker lightly on the tip of his nose. "Do you hear that, boy? It's to be Uncle Jimmy and Mere from now on."

  The moment was not as auspicious to Decker as it was to the two adults. He nodded absently, his thoughts having taken flight in another direction. "Are we going to the ship?" He pushed slightly at Marie, restless now. She let him go, and with remarkable self-sufficiency, Decker climbed back onto the opposite seat and knelt at the open window. "Where is the ship?"

  Jimmy looked to Marie for an explanation. "What's he saying, dear?"

  "He's asking about the ship," she explained patiently.

  "I got the gist of that. But what ship?"

  "It's clear his memory is better than yours, cher. Do you not recall you told Mr. Cunnington we were prepared to make a voyage? We went to great pains to convince the headmaster that we would be long gone from London on the Lord's work."

  "Oh that. "Jimmy chuckled. "You might as well know it now, boy, we were lying. It's a sad fact, but there you have it. Lying through our teeth."

  That got Decker's attention. "My mother says I shouldn't lie. I think Papa said it, too. I'm not sure." His brows furrowed in adult like consternation as he tried to recall an admonishment from his father on the subject of lying. "Yes, when I said Grey sat on Papa's hat and crushed it. That wasn't right."

  "Is that so?" Jimmy remarked.

  "Yes, sir. I should have said it was Colin."

  Marie raised a hand to hide her smile. When she could ask the question with the import it deserved, she said, "And why should you have done that?"

  Decker looked at her as if she had cotton wool between her ears; the answer was so patently obvious to him. "Because Grey's a baby and Colin's big."

  "I see," Marie said. She looked sideways at Jimmy. "Apparently he has it in his mind that lying isn't wrong, but to do it badly is."

  "A remarkably bright boy. I was much older when I learned the truth about lying." He chuckled deeply, amused. "The truth about lying. That's got a ring to it, damn me if it don't."

  "Don't be vulgar, cher." Marie ignored Jimmy's surprised look and leaned forward in her seat. When she was at eye level with Decker she said, "We're not going aboard a ship. Perhaps one day we will. Uncle Jimmy thinks he'd like to see America." She gave her partner another sidelong glance. "That is if Van Diemen's Land doesn't get him first."

  "Now see here," Jimmy interjected quickly, "there's to be no talking about Van Diemen's. Are you of a mind to scare the boy?" But when he looked at Decker he saw Marie's reference to the Australian penal colony was not understood. The child was simply raptly attentive to Marie's sweet voice.

  "Is Grey your brother?" asked Marie.

  Decker nodded.

  "And Colin?"

  Decker nodded again. He glanced out the window as if he might glimpse his brother among the passersby. His mouth puckered; then the corners turned down when he didn't spy the familiar face in the crowd.

  Marie sat back. "I don't think he realizes he won't see his brothers again," she whispered. "I wish..." She let her thought go unfinished. It had been cruel of the headmaster to march out Decker and his older brother for a look-over. Jimmy had been quite clear they could only take one child. Apparently Mr. Cunnington was eager to be rid of the older boy. Marie could understand why. Colin had looked sickly, even consumptive. She doubted the child, who couldn't have been more than eight or nine, would live out the year. No, it would have been impossible for her and Jimmy to have taken him, too. Still, for a moment back at the workhouse she had been powerfully tempted. "What about the baby?" she asked softly. "Did Mr. Cunnington tell you anything about the other child?"

  "Only that he was first to be taken. Greydon, I think he called him." Jimmy saw Decker's head swivel in their direction as he recognized the name. When Jimmy remained silent for a few moments Decker's attention went back to the window. "I must have remembered it right," he said. "A couple from America took him. Apparently they had it in their minds to pass him off as their own. That's why they refused this little fellow and his half-starved brother."

  "Half-starved?" Marie's insides knotted, and her eyes grew troubled. She looked over Decker from head to toe. Here was a sturdy little boy with strong legs and arms and a bit of baby fat on his belly. This child hadn't lacked for food. Why had the other? "I thought Colin was consumptive."

  Jimmy Grooms shook his head. "He was hungry," he said quietly. "I know that look. I've felt that look. So hungry he was ready to eat his own insides."

  "Mon Dieu, "Marie said. "I didn't know."

  Jimmy was suddenly sorry he had told her. It would deepen her regret at not taking the boy. "Of course you didn't. Starvation like that is as bad as consumption. Just as deadly." He put an arm around her. "Listen to me, Marie. We did the best thing by the boy, taking this one away."

  Marie's look was uncertain. "What do you mean?"

  "How do you think this child stayed so round and rosy? Did you see any others in that damnable workhouse that looked as healthy? I can't be wide of the mark when I tell you that his brother was giving up his own food for this one. Now that we have him, the brother can go about the business of eating for himself."

  Decker stared out the window. With a wisdom that owed nothing to his age and everything to his upbringing, he remained quiet. More than that, he pretended not to have heard. He pressed one hand to the pocket in his black coat. Through the wool he could feel the outline of Colin's last-minute gift. Decker didn't even know what it was. He had been too excited and frightened to look at it when Colin thrust it into his pocket. If he had had to make a guess, he would have said it was food. Colin had always been giving him scraps and spoonfuls from his own plate. Now he could tell that the object was not something to eat.

  For the first time ever he was fiercely glad of that.

  He blinked rapidly, shielding tears. His chin trembled slightly. He hadn't cried when his parents died or any time since. That Colin hadn't let him had only been part of the reason. Mostly he had been too scared. Fear, it seemed, could give one a stiff upper lip as easily as an older brother's severe but silent glance.

  "What have you got there, boy?" Jimmy Grooms asked.

  Decker stopped rubbing his pocket and let his hand fall away quickly. The expression he faced Jimmy with was a composed one, if shaded with guilt. "Nothing."

  "A poor lie if e
ver there was one," Jimmy told him. His shrug was philosophical. "No matter. One has to start somewhere." He held out his hand. "Show me what you have in your pocket."

  "Leave him be," Marie said gently. "And you may as well start calling him by his name. He can't be 'boy' forever."

  Jimmy conceded one point but not the other. To his way of thinking, life was full of compromises. "All right, Decker. Let's see what you have in your pocket." Instead of holding out his hand, Jimmy picked Decker up and tickled him until the child was helpless with laughter. The musical giggles were like a melody above the clatter of carriage wheels and the deeper rumble of voices on the street. The tempo was stamped by the staccato clip of horses' hooves. By the time Decker was set, breathless, back in his seat, Jimmy was smiling widely and Marie's eyes were brimming with happy tears.

  Jimmy Grooms held up the object that Decker had been so carefully guarding minutes earlier. Decker made a swipe at it, but Jimmy retracted his hand. "Made my own diversion," he said with a touch of pride.

  "Really, cher, " Marie scolded lightly, "you shouldn't be so full of yourself for besting a boy. It's not becoming."

  Jimmy sobered. "Right you are."

  "Mine!" Decker declared loudly, surprising both adults. "Mine!"

  Jimmy closed the object in his fist and eyed Decker steadily. "Yes, it's yours. In a moment." When Decker pushed backward into one corner of the carriage, his expression mutinously sullen rather than cowed, Jimmy unfolded his fingers to examine his prize.

  "An earring," Marie exclaimed somewhat breathlessly.

  "It is indeed," said Jimmy. And what an earring. Here was an exquisite piece of jewelry, a pearl stud with a raindrop of pure gold dangling from it. The letters ER were engraved in script on the drop, and the pearl was set in a gold crown. Jimmy whistled under his breath. "Do you realize what this is, Marie? This is our passage to anywhere we want to go."