Circle of Spies (32 page)

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 would 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.