His Heart's Revenge (The Marshall Brothers Series, Book 2) (36 page)

"As I said, perhaps this should wait until you are sober. You are slurring your words, and you don't even know it." Turning the handle, Katy opened the door a crack, prepared to leave. She jumped back, stifling a small scream as Michael pitched his tumbler at the door. The force of his throw caused the door to click shut, and he crossed the room, blocking Katy's exit. The tumbler lay at his feet, unbroken. He picked it up and held it out to her.

"Another bourbon," he said. "Do not tempt the fates by arguing with me, Katy. Just do as I say."

Katy took the glass from him, aware that her hand was shaking and that Michael saw it also. She was frightened and knew she had good reason to be. She had seen Michael angry before, and she had seen him drunk. Either condition could be formidable. The combination made him unpredictably volatile. She filled the tumbler with two fingers of bourbon and set it on a table.

"Bring it here," he commanded.

Katy moved to the opposite side of the room and stood in front of the fireplace. "Get it yourself."

Behind him, Michael's fingers fumbled with the lock. It would be enough to deter Katy's exit until he could stop her himself. He went to the liquor cabinet and picked up his drink. "I think you would be more comfortable if you had a seat."

"I don't want to sit down."

"Very well," he said equably. "But I will." He chose one of the oversized leather armchairs near the fireplace, turning it so that it faced Katy. He was close enough so that when he stretched out his legs, his heels rested on the marble apron. Had he wanted to, his toes could have nudged the hem of her gown. Raising his face, he stared at Katy thoughtfully. "Black becomes you, Katy. I would not have thought you could look so lovely in mourning, but you do. That bodes well for me, I think, since you will be wearing that color for at least a year."

"Why do you want me here, Michael?" She hated the way his pale blue eyes traveled over her. Even the slack set of his mouth was a cold, calculating leer.

"Straight to the heart of the matter, eh?" He raised his glass to his lips and sipped from it gingerly. "You should have come in when you first returned, if you were so anxious. Where did you go last evening?"

"You remember Jane? My dresser at the theatre? I took a cab from the cemetery to her home in the Bowery. I simply could not face coming back here and listening to the will reading. Perhaps I should have told someone, but I didn't know that's what I was going to do until it was done. I am sorry if you and Ria were worried."

Michael listened to her story without comment and merely grunted at her apology. "And I am sorry I did not keep that detective on," he said finally.

"You don't believe me?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter, since it won't happen again. In the future you will answer to me. I'll want to know where you are going and what you are doing."

"Don't be absurd, Michael. I do not have to answer to you. And I won't."

"As my mistress, you will."

Katy shook her head. "How often do you have to hear me say no before you understand that I mean it? I will leave this house before I will allow you to touch me."

"Just so," he said smugly.

She was taken back by his smile. Her eyebrows lifted in a question. "What do you mean?"

Michael set his glass aside. "In point of fact, if you don't want to be my mistress, then you will not only have to leave this house, you will have to leave the city as well. Aren't you just the least curious about my father's will, Katy?"

She was perfectly bewildered. "What does one have to do with the other?"

"He left you and your child half of everything," he said calmly, examining his nails.

"Half? But that's—"

"Absurd. Patently absurd. And that's what I am going to prove." He looked up at her now, his eyes darkening with anger. "My father made out his new will soon after he found out he had cancer. I have spoken with his lawyer. Mr. Lockwood freely admits that my father was greatly troubled at the time of the rewriting. Of sound mind? I do not think so. Victor Donovan was not thinking clearly when he had Lockwood draw up the new papers, and if there was the slightest doubt, my father's suicide ended it."

For a moment Katy could not speak. "Suicide? What are you talking about? Victor's death was an accident. You were there. You saw it the same as I."

Michael cocked his head to one side and raised a cynical brow. "I saw my father deliberately step in the path of a speeding coach."

"That is not what happened," she said. Her hands fisted at her sides. "You cannot want to make people think Victor killed himself!"

"Can't I?" he asked. "I have had a long time to think about it, Katy. Most of the night, in fact. Shall I tell you what I've come up with?" He did not expect an answer to his question. "I plan to contest Father's will. I think I will find it very easy to prove he was so despondent that he cannot be held accountable for the terms of the will. I feel certain Lockwood will come around to my way of thinking, and Dr. Turner can be brought in to verify my father's illness. There were plenty of witnesses who saw my father trampled by the horses. How many do you suppose saw what I saw?"

"How many are you going to pay?"

"I don't think I will have to do that, but it's an alternative worth considering." He stood up and advanced on Katy, pinning her where she stood with the force of his gaze. "I am not letting you take what is rightfully mine. You are not entitled to a penny from my father's estate."

"I don't want anything. I told you, I never cared about Victor's money."

"You do not expect me to believe that, do you? What about your baby?"

Katy's hands folded protectively in front of her abdomen. "Victor wanted to provide for our child," she said with quiet dignity. But it was not a position she could maintain, and Katy knew it. Had her baby really been Victor's she would have fought relentlessly for the child's birthright. It was a gallant gesture on Victor's part to want to provide for her and the baby, but it was also unnecessary. She had been on her own before and could manage this time as well. "You should consider honoring his wishes."

"I have considered all I want to." His hand came up and cupped her chin, holding her face steady. "Now consider what I have to say. You have a decision to make, Katy dear, and I am going to outline your choices." His hand dropped to her neck when she jerked her head away from him. His grip was tight enough now that she couldn't move. "You can remain here as my mistress. You will quietly renounce your right to any part of my father's fortune. Except for Lockwood, who will draw up the papers, no one will ever know the true nature of our relationship or that you have given up your part of the estate. When your child is born, I will settle a small portion on him or her, an eighth, perhaps, of the total Donovan holdings. That is a handsome sum under any circumstances."

"Go to hell, Michael."

His smile was feral. "I would not be so quick to send me to perdition or to dismiss one of your alternatives. You have yet to hear the others."

"I am not interested in being your mistress. I never have been. All the money in the world is not going to change that."

Michael ignored her dismissal. "Another option is to accept a small gift from me." He named a figure that was generous if one did not take into account the worth of the entire estate. "Note the gift is from me. It is yours for not accepting the will. In this case, you will leave the city and endeavor to live with some degree of anonymity in another part of the country. If you can plan wisely, you should be able to manage on the money I will settle on you. You are resourceful as well. I shouldn't think it would be long before you've found some other man to see to your needs. If you are lucky, perhaps he will die and leave you a fortune—without the complication of children from another marriage."

Katy slapped him.

Michael's features went rigid as his eyes bored into hers. His hand dropped away from her neck. Before she could take a step back, he raised it again. Katy flinched, but it wasn't enough. He hit her with sufficient force to drop her to her knees. Michael simply stood there, looking down on her while he regained his balance.

"Your last choice," he said emotionlessly, as if there had been no altercation, "is to fight me when I contest the will. You will lose."

She was afraid to get up, afraid of what he could do to her and her child. Still, she could not cower in front of him. Raising defiant eyes to him, she said, "God, but I despise you. That you could be Victor's son is one of nature's nastier surprises. Perhaps you would be wiser not to challenge me, Michael. I could relish fighting you in court. I have played the bitch on stage. There cannot be much to assuming the same role in real life."

"If it were only your reputation at stake, I believe you would do it," he said, brushing the side of her face with his fingertips. He could feel the heat from the slap he'd delivered. "But it is not only your reputation. It is my father we are talking about here. And Ria, and your child, and... and Logan Marshall."

"Logan Marshall?" she asked, carefully making her features a blank. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"I'm not certain. But it would be easy enough to discover, wouldn't it? He was at your hotel room at least one time that I know of. On reflection, I think he might have known you when he came backstage to your dressing room. And he was here not long before my father committed suicide."

"Stop saying that! It was an accident!"

"Perhaps my father was despondent over more than his impending death. After all, we are all of us mortal beings. What if Father was moved to kill himself because he knew his wife was straying from the nest?"

"You are vile."

Michael shrugged. "I may not be able to prove it, but I can raise the question often. And the public being what it is, well, you understand that they will draw their own conclusions. I cannot be responsible for what they might believe." He took a step backward, turned, and picked up his drink. He carried it to the door. "With the exception of reminding you of the photographs I still retain, I think I have said everything I wanted to say. I will expect an answer tomorrow morning. That gives you twenty-four hours to make a decision. If you make up your mind more quickly than that, I will be at the Union Club. Duncan can reach me there." He raised his glass again, and this time a little bourbon spilled over the edge and spattered the carpet. He grinned crookedly; a boyishly handsome expression adorned his Adonis face. "Good day, m'dear."

When he was gone, Katy sat back on her heels. He thought he had given her three choices and yet there was only one worth considering, one that he had not offered at all. She could leave the city without accepting his money or renouncing Victor's will. It was what she should do, she thought, fingering the cameo at her throat. She would be independent again, out of reach of Michael's threats and without reminders at every turn of her brief marriage to Victor. It would be a challenge to start again somewhere else, but she did not have to stay in New York.

Her hands folded over her abdomen, and she pressed them there in expectation that the baby would provide some answer. "If I am doing the right thing," she asked, "then why do I feel as if I am running away?"

Chapter 10

February 13, 1873
—
Washington, DC.

It was just as the curtain was closing on the matinee's second act that Katy's water broke. There had been twinges and aches since last night, and she had resolutely ignored them. This was not something she could treat in the same fashion. Her undergarments were wet, but nothing showed on the gown she was wearing. Thank God for small favors, she thought. If she ruined the gown, she would have the wardrobe mistress to contend with. She did not think she was up to facing that dragon now.

Off stage, she sat on one of the prop chairs and tried to catch her breath. All around her stagehands and actors moved with purpose and the grace of long practice as they set up the next scene and costume change. The activity was a well-choreographed blur, and Katy, excused from lifting a finger this late in her pregnancy, had nothing to do. Usually she stood out of everyone's way in the stairwell. This evening she could not walk that far. Still, no one noticed her until John Burja needed the chair she was sitting on.