Circle of Spies

by Roseanna M. White

  “No, I—”

  “Boys.” Lane waved them over as they handed off their outer garments to an attendant. Slade begrudgingly relinquished his hat and coat as well.

  He meant to look only at them. But it was hardly his fault Marietta chose that moment to sweep her cape from her shoulders, was it? Nor his fault that the gleaming light from the chandeliers reflected just so off the shoulders bared by her gown, which fit her far too well. And shining in the light, the gray—silk, was it?—turned to silver against her ivory skin.

  Her brothers stepped into his line of vision, both giving him a look that convinced him he should have fled when he had the chance.

  Their grandfather didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps it was that he didn’t care. He slapped a friendly hand to Slade’s shoulder and grinned. “Boys, this is my and Mari’s friend, Slade Osborne. Oz, Julie’s boys. Isaac Arnaud, who now runs my shipping ventures, and Hezekiah Arnaud, academic and chemist.”

  He still wasn’t sure when he had become the friend of Thaddeus Lane. And he seriously doubted Marietta would term him such. But he refreshed his tight smile and held out a hand.

  The Arnaud brothers seemed bent on breaking rather than shaking it, but he did his best not to grimace. Especially when the Lanes moved off to greet someone else and Marietta swept up halfway through Hez’s death grip of a squeeze.

  Her cat eyes flashed green sparks. But that didn’t quite cover the shadows of pain lurking underneath them.

  “Hezekiah!” She all but hissed the name, and moved her hands in some quick series of motions that left Slade scowling every bit as much as the crushing grip.

  His confusion only increased when Hez released his hand and made a few motions back to her. Then Isaac jumped into the fray. Slade backed away, glancing down when he felt someone at his side. Barbara, her gaze on the siblings too. Though she smiled.

  He glanced from them to her. “Are they…arguing?”

  A soothing chuckle came from her throat. “I don’t understand much of it, but I caught Mari’s initial command to stop.”

  His scowl deepened still more. “Is it a language?”

  “Indeed. Sign language. Was that ‘doll’?” Barbara tilted her head to the side. She too wore a more formal gown, though still in unrelieved black. “How very odd. But I’m sure it was. That was one of the first signs she taught Elsie.”

  “Elsie?”

  “Walker and Cora’s little girl. She is deaf. Mari has been teaching them signs so they can communicate.”

  “She…” Marietta Hughes taking the time to teach a new language to her servants? Was that the meeting he’d overheard her and Walker Payne making when he first arrived? Slade’s gaze fell on her again. Maybe a little differently than it ever had before. Maybe. “Interesting.”

  “Oh, it is. You ought to sit in on a lesson sometime, Mr. Osborne. Mari is a wonder. Never faltering or forgetting a single sign, and always so patient.” A tinkle of laughter. “I’m afraid Elsie is picking it up much faster than the rest of us.”

  A few other gazes swung their way, a fact which apparently didn’t escape Marietta. Socially conscious, that was more in keeping with his picture of her. Her face neutral, she made a few more signs, small and discreet. Though whatever they meant, they didn’t seem to please her brothers, who looked about to make the argument vocal.

  She spun, her gaze locking on Slade, and strode across the steps between them. Fury blazed in her eyes, not unlike the way it had in the cellar the other day as she claimed she wasn’t Hughes’s. Right before she stretched up and kissed him.

  This time she halted at his side and lifted one flame of a brow. “We had better head to our seats, Slade.”

  She’d used his given name—in public, in front of the brothers who looked as though they would as soon tear him limb from limb as take in the play. Slade did the only thing he could think to do.

  He offered her his arm.

  Nineteen

  Marietta had all she could do to keep her pleasant smile pinned to her face and her hand relaxed against Slade’s arm. Anger wanted to push through her fingers, and the pain from a headache contorted her face into a wince as they started up the stairs.

  Slade’s fingers brushed over hers. She glanced up into his face and saw concern knitting his brows.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  The question made her breath catch in her throat. Mama had seen the pain—Mama always did—but no one else had. “Just a little headache.”

  His frown didn’t ease. “Do you want to leave?”

  The hopefulness in his tone teased out a smile, but she shook her head—a mistake, that—and then nodded to a passing congressman. “What I want is to enjoy the play my grandparents have been eager to watch, let all of society see that I am through with mourning Lucien and not on the arm of Dev, and give my overbearing brothers a few swift kicks to the posterior.”

  That last part she barely even muttered, but Slade’s chuckle said he heard her. “My fault. I think I looked at you wrong.”

  Why should that make heat sweep over her? She already knew he thought her attractive. And she had commissioned this dress months ago to elicit reactions when she reentered society, having it modeled on a green gown that had left the Hugheses breathless. Though at the time she certainly hadn’t imagined wearing this one first to a play in Washington on the arm of a detective rather than Dev.

  Perhaps she ought to have left it in the closet with the ill-fated green one she never intended to don again.

  “They deserve no excuses to be made for them.” She tossed a narrow-eyed glance over her shoulder at her brothers, both of whom still scowled her way, despite their wives’ obvious attempts to distract them with conversation. “Those two have always been this way. Virtually ignoring me day in and day out, as if I am nothing but a pretty doll upon a shelf, until I dare to assert some individuality in public, and then they suddenly remember they are older brothers charged with protecting me.”

  Stephen was the only one of the three who had ever bothered to talk to her. To try to understand why she behaved as she did.

  Isaac and Hez just patted her head day to day and then blustered and fumed when she didn’t act as they thought she should. Granted, she wouldn’t be in this mess if she had met their standards all her life. But tonight she had done nothing wrong. She was, in fact, distancing herself publicly from Dev, which ought to please them.

  Slade hummed. “I can understand their protectiveness.”

  “It isn’t protectiveness; it’s control. And I am sick to death of all these men in my life thinking they know so much better than I what I need or want.” Again, she spoke quietly, fastening a belying smile to her lips for all the passing families she hadn’t seen much in the past year.

  “Then it’s an honor to aid you in convincing them. Although,” he added, a smile coloring his voice, “Booth thinks it will be my last living act. When Hughes finds out…”

  “Oh.” Oh, mercy. She hadn’t even paused to consider…The headache pounded, streaked behind her eyes, and lodged in her heart. When would the selfishness recede? What she was doing to Slade with this show hadn’t even entered her mind.

  She tried to pull her hand away from his arm, but he chuckled and covered her fingers with his again to hold it there. “It’s a little late for that, Yetta.”

  He was right. Too many people had seen them. She had sealed his fate already. Dev would find out that she had made her reentrance into society on the arm of Slade Osborne, and he would be furious.

  The pain settled behind her eyes, and another twisted her abdomen. “I’m sorry.” Paltry words, but so very true. For so very much.

  “Don’t be. Didn’t you hear your grandfather? We’re…friends.”

  Friends. She motioned toward the row Granddad Thad had rented for the night and tried, in vain, to keep her gaze from Slade’s face. He was looking down at her, no evidence of the wolf in his eyes. Still, the kindness that seemed at once out of place an
d natural in his gaze didn’t make that word make any more sense in relation to this man. She wasn’t sure she could be a friend to Slade Osborne. He was too…and she wasn’t enough…and what with those kisses the other day…

  Lord, help me, please. Even now, with watchful eyes on her from every direction as she indicated the seats that were theirs, she had to fight off the urge to lean in to his side. Fight off the longing to feel his arms around her. Fight off the thought that maybe he could make everything right.

  He couldn’t. She knew that.

  Marietta moved into the row first, unwilling to deal with a brother manipulating his way to the other side of her. Barbara or Granddad would help insulate Slade from them, but they wouldn’t think she needed the favor.

  Usually she wouldn’t. Frustrating as they were, she knew how to handle Isaac and Hez. But just now the twisting pain in her abdomen knifed its way to her back, and she sank with gratitude into her chair, willing the ache to ebb and yet knowing she deserved every pulse of it. She had, in fact, been praying so diligently for this discomfort that she could hardly complain about its intensity. She ought to embrace it. Praise the Lord for it.

  He had spared her. She was not with child.

  Relief ought to dominate every other feeling today. And it did…for a while. Then shame had billowed over her like the sea. Perhaps the rest of the world wouldn’t know, now, what she had done. But privacy made it no lesser a sin. Forgiveness did not make it disappear. God’s eyes saw no more stain, but there would still be consequences. There were always consequences.

  And if He had spared her this in His mercy, what did that mean about what else would be coming her way? Was her future so bleak that the Lord wouldn’t want to subject an innocent child to it?

  Warm fingers touched her arm and then retreated. She glanced over to see that Slade’s frown had scored its way deeper. “Are you certain you are well enough for this? I could see you home.”

  Home sounded like heaven. She could curl up with a hot water bottle, close her eyes, and read.

  But this was her grand reentrance, independent and victorious. At Our American Cousin, a play Granddad and Grandmama had been wanting to see so badly. With most of the people dearest to her—even if two of them were shooting visual arrows at her even now.

  She summoned up a smile. “I’m fine.”

  The look he gave her was rife with disbelief, but he said no more. He merely pulled out his pocket watch to check the time.

  It was Marietta’s turn to frown. “What happened to your fob?”

  “Pardon?” He replaced the watch.

  She waved her hand. “You usually have that on a silver chain. Is it in need of repair?” It was none of her business, granted, but a better topic for conversation than her health.

  A lopsided smile settled on Slade’s mouth. “No. I had borrowed it from a friend a year ago and finally remembered to give it back today.”

  Hez, seated on the other side of Slade, snorted. “You borrowed a fob?”

  If she could just reach across to smack that derision from his tone…but Slade laughed. “Only after I lost the one my father gave me and didn’t want him to find out.”

  Hez looked about to make reply—though whether it would be amused or cynical she couldn’t be sure—but he paused as more people moved to the seats on the other side of Marietta.

  She glanced over too and smiled at the couple. Polite greetings sounded from both sides of her, but thankfully servants began dimming the house lights, and the babble in the auditorium quieted. The play would soon begin.

  She made it through the first act with no increase to her headache. Lucien had taken her to New York once to see the original cast, and she always enjoyed watching how productions changed over time, the roles growing and expanding. This set of actors breathed life into the lines.

  During the first intermission, all the voices around her started buzzing. Much of the second act she scarcely heard. And when she rose for the second intermission, the pain behind her eyes pierced too quickly for her to control the response.

  Her whole family, it seemed, had been waiting to pounce at the end of the row.

  “You are ill.” Isaac said it like an accusation. “Why did you even come tonight if you are unwell?”

  Hez rolled his eyes. “You know how she is when she makes up her mind to do something, but this is absurd, Mari. You must think of your health. Come, I will see you home.”

  A train ride home with Hez when he had a bee in his bonnet—not a relaxing end to the evening. “I’ll be fine. It’s nearly over.”

  Granddad elbowed his grandsons out of the way and tipped up her chin to look into her eyes. “A headache? You need quiet, Mari.” He tapped the end of her nose. As always, pure love flowed from the point of contact. “Which you wouldn’t get if we all left with you.”

  “I am ready to go as well.” Barbara slipped into the place at her side and wove their arms together. She did look exhausted, no doubt from her hours of volunteering at the hospital that day.

  Granddad patted her on the shoulder as he would any of the grandchildren who shared his blood. “Good of you, my dear, but two lovely young women will not be making the trip back to Baltimore on their own. Oz, you’ll see they arrive safely, won’t you, son?”

  Isaac stared at their grandfather as if he had lost his faculties. “Granddad—”

  “An elegant solution.” Isaac’s wife, Laura, tugged him back a step, amusement gleaming in her eyes.

  Slade looked none too sorry to be asked to depart. “It would be my pleasure.” He crooked both his arms. “Ladies?”

  Too miserable to argue, Marietta settled her hand in the curve of his left elbow while Barbara took his right. “Thank you. Goodnight, everyone.”

  None of them said much as they descended the stairs and waited for their wraps, nor during the hack ride to the train station. And, of course, once they were on the train to Baltimore, it was far too easy to stare into the darkness and let the sway of the car lull her into a half sleep. She scarcely noted the second cab ride home, and she may have trudged up to her room without even the presence of mind to wish Slade a grateful farewell had Barbara not taken the lead.

  She halted them all inside the front door by the low-burning lamp and smiled warmly at Slade. “Thank you so much for seeing us home, Mr. Osborne. And Mari dear, for insisting I come. It was a true pleasure. Shall I fetch Cora for you?”

  “No.” No need to rouse Cora from her bed. Marietta returned Barbara’s smile. “I can manage on my own.”

  “Then I will bid you both good night.” She grasped Marietta’s hand and gave it a squeeze, dropped a quick curtsy to Slade, and turned toward the stairs.

  Marietta watched her disappear and then pivoted slowly toward Slade. His gaze was already on her. Maybe that was why her throat went so dry. “I…thank you, Slade. For seeing me home.”

  “Sure.” His fingers tangled with hers, and she wasn’t certain which of them had reached out first. “You looked beautiful tonight, Yetta.”

  A breath of a laugh eased past her tight throat. The familiar compliment brought no pleasure, just another wave of shame. “I meant to. Probably just to slap at Dev, and it didn’t…it didn’t occur to me that it would hinder your work here. He’s going to be angry, and I’m sorry. I’ve made things more difficult for you when I wanted to be a help.”

  His thumb stroked over her knuckles and tied her in knots. “I’m not worried. You have him wrapped around your finger, and I know how to play my hand.”

  Wonderful. He wasn’t worried because he recognized her as what she was—a professional coquette. Tears burned at her own weakness. Even now she would rather curl into his chest than stand on her own feet and face what she had done, what she was.

  “Hey, now. What’s this?” His fingertips brushed her cheek, making her aware that her tears hadn’t just burned; they had slipped through her guard.

  For a long moment she could only squeeze her eyes shut and struggle w
ith all her might to keep her breathing even. Once she felt marginally under control, she shook her head. “I’m no good at being good.”

  His laugh was a low rumble, somehow soothing. “Ah, Yetta. In some ways we are so much alike.”

  A wobbly smile stole onto her lips. “In all the ways we shouldn’t be.”

  He wiped away another tear. “Don’t cry. I don’t have another spare handkerchief to lend you.”

  How could he make her laugh now? More, why did the laughter have to catch and make the burn behind her eyes worse? “I should give that back to you.”

  Her tone must not have sounded very promising. His hand cupped her cheek. “But?”

  “But I don’t intend to. And I don’t know why.” She risked a lift of her eyes and found his face close, intent. And oh so alluring. “That’s terrifying.”

  “I know.” In the lamplight, low and golden, his black eyes gleamed like onyx. They stayed locked on hers for a long moment, long enough that she nearly wished for the familiar snap of the wolf within them. At least then she knew how to respond, knew how to keep her distance. But the way he looked at her now…it wasn’t like the looks she was used to. It was softer, almost mournful. When his gaze fell to her lips, she felt the familiar pull in her chest, but it lacked the edge she expected.

  The breath he drew in shuddered. “Yetta.” His voice was a mere exhale, lower even than a murmur. He rested his forehead against hers. “I want to kiss you.”

  “I know.” Her fingers tightened around his of their own volition, and her free hand settled on his chest. “I would let you.”

  “I know.” He pulled away and caught her gaze again. His eyes looked as pained as hers must have earlier. “I’m not going to.”

  Of course not. He had said just two days ago he wouldn’t again, and he’d obviously meant it. “Smart.”

  “Yeah.” He lifted their joined hands, turned them, and pressed his lips to her knuckles. When he had first done that nearly two weeks ago, it had healed something inside her. Tonight it broke her to pieces. “We’re neither of us naive, Yetta. We both know it’s just…wanting.”