Circle of Spies

by Roseanna M. White

  The pieces broke to pieces. “Mm-hmm.”

  “Fact is, when all this is over, you’ll probably go through a rocky spell. But you’re smart and have a solid family, so you’ll know how to handle it. In another year or so, I’ll pick up the paper and see an announcement that you’re marrying some wealthy politician or businessman.”

  The fractured pieces dug in like splinters. He was ending his courtship before he even started one. “Is that how it will be?”

  “Yeah. You’ll forget my name in a few years. I’ll just be that reformed gambler, the two-bit detective who helped ruin your life.”

  She might have laughed, if she weren’t afraid it would come out a sob. “Right.” She would forget.

  His fingers traced the contour of her cheek. Funny. As much as his words sounded like one, his touch didn’t feel like a goodbye. “Pinkerton will send me north again, I bet. New York or Chicago. Maybe Boston.”

  She strove to match his tone, easy if a touch regretful. “Where you’ll bravely chase down criminals and right society’s wrongs.”

  “Yeah.” He twisted one of her curls around his finger. “Just another adventure. I’ll look back on this one and…” He swallowed, gripping her hand tighter still. Amusement snapped to life in his eyes. “And wish I had kissed you again tonight.”

  Marietta smiled because her lips insisted on it. Then, because her heart couldn’t handle any more and her head thumped anew in protest of that pain, she backed away. “I had better let you get home.” Maybe she meant tonight. Maybe she meant forever. Maybe she just wanted to mean it at all.

  Slade didn’t release her hand. No, he held it in his, opened her fingers, and this time pressed a kiss to her palm. “I’ll have that book back by tomorrow. Just in case.”

  Right. The book from the cellar. Dev. The Knights. His only purpose here. “Good. And good night.”

  “Lock the door behind me.” He released her fingers and moved to the exit. He cast only one glance at her over his shoulder before he disappeared through it.

  Marietta felt as though she trudged through molasses as she followed his path. Leaning into the door, she slid the bolt into place and rested her throbbing head against the panel.

  “Miss Mari? You all right?”

  Cora’s voice was so quiet she couldn’t even drum up any alarm.

  Marietta pushed herself upright with a sigh that tasted of resignation. “No. I’m a fool.” She slogged her way toward the main stairs, picking up the lamp on her way by. When she drew even with where Cora stood at the base of the staircase, she paused. “You didn’t need to get up, Cora.”

  The young woman smiled. “I already was when I heard you pull in. Thought I’d see if I could get ya anything.”

  “A new past would be appreciated.” She shook her head. “Sorry. No, I can manage. Go back to bed.”

  “If you’re sure.” Cora’s smile had faded to worry. “Miss Mari?”

  She stopped on the second step. “Yes?”

  “You done the right thing there. Mr. Slade’s a fine man, but he ain’t from your world. You be savin’ yourself a passel o’ heartache by not gettin’ involved.”

  Advice obvious to everyone. Barbara alone would disagree, and she could do so solely because of how exceptional Stephen had been, willing to marry for love above all.

  But Marietta was no Stephen. They all knew that. She didn’t know the first thing about real, uncontainable love. She’d be doing everyone a favor by locking her shifting heart away forever.

  “Thank you, Cora. Good night.” Feeling as though her whole body were made of aching, weeping lead, she forced herself up the stairs to her room.

  Some triumphant debut this had been.

  Twenty

  Devereaux glanced out the window of his private rail car. The scenery displayed the final stretch into Baltimore, the familiar farms and towns getting closer together. He leaned back into his seat, welcoming the itch to be home. Work waited, both with the business and the Knights. It would be satisfying to report that he had found the perfect hiding place for his cache of Confederate supplies.

  Even more satisfying would be his arrival at the house. The last time he had been gone for more than two days in November, his homecoming had been sweet indeed. He had barely made it through the door before Marietta had pulled him into the library and launched herself into his arms. The kiss she’d given him still fueled his dreams.

  He hoped his promise to keep his distance until April wouldn’t dampen her passions any today. He needed to hold her, to see that longing for him in her eyes. And maybe, once she was hazy eyed from his kiss, he could convince her to shorten this half mourning, to forgive his promise altogether. Two more months. That would be cutting it close. He wanted to have the cache buried by then, and if they found a time to take Lincoln…

  Surely he could convince her to marry him sooner.

  He shook himself and slid his papers into a neat stack. He must be careful with these. He had needed to draw the map and write down the directions, but he wouldn’t keep the documents any longer than necessary. Only until he could come up with the right encryption for Mason to help him leave along the way. The blacksmith had proven himself a willing cohort, praise be to the Almighty. Moving the cache from a small railhead, over the Potomac, and to the cave would require horses, a cart, and two sets of hands.

  But at least the cave had been all he remembered and more. As a boy, he hadn’t explored it deeply enough to find the small rear exit, but an escape route was always vital. The cave itself was the perfect size, and it was hard enough to find that he could be sure no one would stumble upon it after he and Mason rolled the boulder into place and armed the booby traps.

  He slid the papers into his binder and the binder into his satchel. All in all a successful trip. Though he might not be welcome back at the Appalachian Inn on his next journey. His lips pulled up as he set the satchel on the table. He hadn’t meant to frighten Ruby, exactly, but after a week of exaggerated flirtation, what did the chit expect him to do?

  It had only been a kiss—mostly. More to silence her than out of interest. If his hands had wandered roughly, it had only been to show her what she could expect from such behavior.

  Given the tears in her eyes when she pulled away, she had learned her lesson.

  No hardship on his part, he admitted. She was no Marietta, but if the promise of having his Helen of Troy forever hadn’t been so close at hand, he might have indulged a bit more to stave off the hunger. With more care, of course.

  But Helen was at hand, more beautiful than any mythical goddess, and she was all his. He let that thought warm him through the last few minutes of the ride, and it put a bounce in his step as he debarked at one station and hired a carriage to deliver him to the next. His private car would be pulled through the city to await his next pleasure.

  When he got down again outside his offices, he spotted Osborne within seconds, talking to one of the guards Devereaux kept on the payroll. He approached the two with long strides.

  Osborne looked up as he neared and greeted him with a nod. “Welcome home, Hughes.” The underling moved off, and Osborne held out a hand. He winced when Devereaux gripped it.

  “Problem?”

  Osborne rolled his eyes and rubbed the hand. “Yeah, with your soon-to-be brothers-in-law. One or the other of them must have bruised something. Or broken it,” he added in a surly mumble.

  Devereaux lifted his brows. “The Arnauds? What, were you fighting with them?”

  Osborne snorted and motioned him to lead the way inside, obviously knowing his habits well. “Shaking their hands. They didn’t take too kindly to their grandfather manipulating me into joining the family at the theater last week.”

  Chuckling, Devereaux hurried toward his office, trusting Osborne to follow. The fellow even thought to close the door behind him. “He’s an eccentric sometimes. Why did he insist you come?”

  Osborne folded his arms, clearly resentful. “Made me feel that it
was my duty to make sure Marietta got there and back safely. Though—”

  “Wait.” He dropped his bag upon the desk and turned. Slowly, with deliberation. “Mari went to the theater while I was gone?”

  Osborne shrugged. “She made an appearance, though I had to bring her and Barbara Arnaud home early. Headache.”

  The anger, quick to flare, was quickly banked. Thad Lane forced his family wherever he willed, and even Mari didn’t often withstand him. But it sounded as though she had done what she could to escape.

  Still. They’d had an understanding that when she reentered society, it would be with him. That was why they had planned… “Blast it.” He swept his hat off and tossed it to his desk. “Was she angry with me over canceling our engagement at the Ellicotts?” She hadn’t seemed too terribly put out, but she was a woman, after all. They let things fester.

  Osborne blinked. “How would I know?”

  “She could have said something.” Though to Osborne? Unlikely. He gusted out a breath and picked up the stack of post that arrived in his absence. “Never mind. Though I still fail to see why her brothers punished you for being forced to go.”

  He looked up in time to see the roll of Osborne’s black eyes. “Her grandfather introduced me as her ‘friend.’ I think they got the wrong idea.”

  The flame licked higher again. “And how many other people heard him say that?”

  It was small consolation that the other man looked as put out as Devereaux felt. “At least one too many.” He sank into one of the chairs in front of the desk and hooked an ankle over a knee. “I don’t know how you tolerate this society nonsense.”

  Devereaux muttered a curse and slapped an envelope down harder than necessary. “Gossip?”

  A snort was his only answer.

  He cursed again and flipped quickly through the rest of the post. “Do you have any good news?”

  “No trouble at the rails while you were gone.”

  Devereaux ran his hand over his hair. “That is good, though not exactly news. Anything from the brothers?”

  “Yeah. I talked to my friend.”

  Devereaux looked over, but Osborne’s expression said no good came of that. “No weaknesses before the inauguration. But Booth and Surratt got wind of a possible review Lincoln will make of the troops a few days afterward, and we all know he’s never highly guarded at those.”

  Devereaux let that roll over in his mind a few times while he sorted the mail into stacks according to importance. At length he nodded. “It’s worth pursuing.” He shuffled the important correspondence into a neat stack and slid it into his bag. “But for now, home.”

  At the motion of his hand, Osborne got up and followed him out. All in all, the Yankee made a decent henchman. His only questions were intelligent ones, he followed orders, showed initiative, and knew how to stay out of the way. When all of this was over, Devereaux might have a permanent position for him. He couldn’t imagine Osborne would want to remain in Pinkerton’s service once he didn’t need that cover story anymore.

  He considered the idea as they walked to his carriage and measured the man across from him once they had settled. He looked right for the job. No hulking giant to shout his profession, but he always wore that expression that dared anyone to cross him. Devereaux set his bag upon the seat and straightened his gloves. “Do you have plans for the future, Osborne?”

  A glimmer of surprise surfaced in his coal-black eyes. At least Devereaux thought it had, though his usual foul temper swallowed it up in the next second. He shrugged. “Do what I do, I guess.”

  What lofty goals. Devereaux smiled. “I’d like you to consider doing what you do for me.”

  For a long moment, Osborne just held his gaze, making no other response. Then he gave a short nod. “I’ll consider it. Thanks.”

  “Good.” Considering it would no doubt lead him to the logical conclusion.

  For now, the closer they got to home, the more Devereaux’s thoughts whirled around the other half of his life. And the tighter his frown pulled. What had she been thinking? He understood the tug of family, but he had specifically told her they would accept an invitation when he got back. Together. That most certainly did not mean making a theater appearance with…with an employee. A guard.

  He cast a glance at Osborne as they pulled onto Monument Square. Irritation spurted, but he pushed it down. It wasn’t his fault he’d been pulled into it. No, that was all Lane. And while Devereaux didn’t expect to ever get an apology from the old man, he would get a few answers from Marietta. She should have known better. She must have known better. She must have done it deliberately, which was inexcusable.

  By the time he climbed down and strode toward the family home, the fire was a steady burn in his chest. He let himself in the front door, too impatient to wait for doddering old Norris to answer a knock, and nearly bowled into Jess.

  “Lawsy!” The old woman splayed a dark hand over her chest. “Mr. Dev, you plumb scared me to death!”

  He forced a smile. “Where is Marietta?”

  She huffed out a breath and shook her head. “Don’t rightly know, sir. Though yo mama’s in the drawin’ room and looking better ’n I seen her in a year.”

  Maybe Mother knew where Marietta was. And even if not, he needed to greet her too. “I’ll head her way then.”

  A glance over his shoulder confirmed that Osborne had disappeared, wisely. Devereaux strode into the ground-floor drawing room, a smile ready for his mother to cover the anger simmering below.

  “Devereaux!” She rose when he entered, putting aside her mending and not so much as faltering on her way up. That did his heart good, as did the bloom of healthy color in her cheeks as she held out her hands.

  He took them in his, noting that her skin no longer felt so fragile and papery, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Good day, Mother. Look at you, glowing with health. Have you had a pleasant week?”

  “Not as pleasant as this one will be, now that you are home.” She gripped his fingers, her smile bright. “How was your trip?”

  “Excellent.” He urged her back down into her chair but didn’t take one of his own. “Is Mari here?”

  The usual sour look entered her eyes at mention of Marietta. “I believe so. Probably with that Barbara woman.”

  Right. Her. Surely Marietta would tire of the good deed soon and send the woman away. He didn’t like having a Unionist stranger living right above his castle. And he still couldn’t figure why Marietta had taken her in to begin with.

  It must be some feeling of debt to her so-dubbed saint of a dead brother.

  “Don’t worry, Mother.” Not in the mood to seek all over the grounds for her, he sat after all. His anger would hold. “We’ve already discussed it. As soon as we wed, that woman leaves.”

  Mother sighed. “Perhaps you could just buy the house from her. Have you considered that? Then they can both leave.”

  His fingers curled into the arm of his chair. “I don’t just want the house. I want Marietta as my wife.”

  And he would have both, whatever it took.

  Marietta closed the book and made a quick series of signs. “Good job, Elsie.” She glanced up at Walker, Cora, and Barbara too, grinning. “And the rest of you. Though not quite as good.”

  Cora’s laugh rang out as she helped the little one from her seat. Blond curls bobbing, the toddler bounced her way to the floor and ran to the window where she’d left her doll.

  Watching her, Marietta’s heart fisted. Perhaps she had never yearned as much as Paulina and Laura, but looking at Elsie made her wonder. If she had ever conceived, would her child have looked like Elsie? Been so sweet natured?

  Probably not. Her children probably would have been doomed to foul tempers and conniving spirits and abounding selfishness. But maybe, just maybe, her blood would have created someone more like Stephen.

  Not an issue now. She would never again make the same mistake with a man she had with Dev, and as for marrying again…no. She wo
uld count herself blessed beyond measure if she escaped from Dev and wouldn’t tempt fate again.

  Elsie rose to her toes to look out the window and then turned back to them with familiar curiosity in her eyes. How Marietta loved watching the little one look upon her world these past three weeks, now that she could ask for the names of things. She made the most familiar of her signs, the first two fingers of her right hand tapping against the first two of her left. Name.

  Marietta joined her at the window and crouched to peer out with her. “What do you see, precious?”

  Elsie pointed at the two men descending from the carriage parked across the street and striding for her front door.

  Marietta swallowed. Dev was home, and his gait looked none too happy.

  Elsie made the sign for name again and pointed at him.

  They had already introduced her to Slade on Friday when he had shown up for a lesson, claiming Barbara had invited him. Barbara admitted she had, but Marietta suspected it had been pure disbelief that had led him here, not a desire to learn. He had looked utterly bemused when they created a sign for his name for Elsie’s use, and he hadn’t lingered after the lesson to talk.

  He hadn’t lingered around her house much at all. That hour was the only time she’d done more than catch a glimpse of him since the theater on Wednesday. Wise. But painful.

  Now she cleared her throat and watched Dev storm into her house. Was it cowardly to be glad she was out here, where he would never think to look for her? He would find his mother instead, and seeing her so well would perhaps mollify him.

  She drummed up a smile for Elsie. “That’s Mr. Dev.” She spelled it out, though more to establish habit than anything because the child was too young to understand spelling.

  Walker crouched down on the other side of his daughter, formed his hands into a D and made the sign for bad. “Mr. Dev.” He made the sign again.

  “Walker.” Marietta pressed a cold hand to her forehead. “She knows what that means.”