Circle of Spies (43 page)

Especially given her smile as she whispered, “Me neither.”

Twenty-Seven

M
arietta stood at the library window and watched the merrymakers in the street with a catch in her throat. Church bells tolled all over the city, and even with darkness falling, riotous laughter still drifted in through the open window.

Richmond, the Confederate capital, had fallen. This day, the third of April, marked victory. Triumph for the Union, and part of her thrilled at that. But she had to wonder at the cost.

In the falling darkness, Dev trudged from his carriage. His fortnight of distance would end tonight, she knew. He would want comfort, and he would turn to her. Hence the cloud of dread hovering over her.

“I think I will retire early.” Mother Hughes's voice pulled Marietta around to face the room with its other two occupants. Since the news had come earlier that day, her mother-in-law had been nearly silent. Seeing now how she faltered as she rose, Marietta prayed her health wouldn't slip again. “When Devereaux arrives, would you please ask him to visit with me for a few moments?”

“Of course.” She hurried over to her Mother Hughes's side and slipped an arm around her waist. “Barbara, could you fetch Jess?”

Barbara smiled and slipped a ribbon into the book of medicine she had been reading. “Certainly. I will be but a moment.”

Waiting until her friend had hurried out, Marietta leaned close. “Mother, you needn't pretend for my sake. I know your family will be mourning today as mine celebrates. I know you must mourn with them. I do not begrudge you that.”

Tears clouded her sky-blue eyes. “I have had to deny them so long. But today…”

“I understand.” Marietta leaned in for a gentle embrace. “Be free to grieve within this house, please. You are safe here.”

A sob caught in Mother Hughes's throat and she hugged Marietta back. “It is a wonder, isn't it, that I made it through these years of martial law without being deported across the Potomac?”

Marietta breathed a low laugh. “No, it is no wonder. Not when your sons are president of the most important railroad in the Union.”

The matron eased away. “The more I hear of the destruction down South, the more I want to go home. Silly, I know.”

“I think I would feel the same way.”

Their gazes held for a moment before Mother Hughes looked away. “They are Devereaux's family too. Not that blood determined loyalties for many in this war, but…if he seems conflicted tonight…”

Oh, she didn't think he would be conflicted at all. He would be furious and crushed, plain and simple. But Barbara was returning with Jess, so Marietta said nothing of his loyalties. “You needn't worry. I well understand that too.”

Mother Hughes frowned even as Jess lumbered to her side. “It pains me to see you two at odds lately, Mari. Whatever has come between you, he loves you. Please, handle his heart gently.”

A nod seemed the wisest answer. She added a strained smile and stepped away to let Jess into her place. Once those two had left the library, she sank onto the couch beside Barbara.

Her friend had shadows under her eyes again. Marietta wished for the hundredth time in the past two hours that Slade hadn't been called away to Washington. She might not dread Dev's arrival quite so much if she knew he lurked outside the door.

She rested her hand on Barbara's arm. “You have been working too hard.”

“Nonsense.” As always, Barbara's smile beamed warm and peaceful. “There is just too much to do to be idle. So many families suffered from that terrible storm, and the injured soldiers cannot tend themselves.”

“That is no reason to neglect your own well-being. And when I think of you going about those neighborhoods—” A shudder cut her off.

Barbara shook her head. “Oh, Mari. The men who may view you as someone to steal from merely ask me to visit their ill children or tend their wives during their lying-in. I am one of them.”

More like one of the angels. Marietta stood again and walked to the window. The front door of Dev's house opened. “Perhaps you should retire early as well, Barbara.”

At the silence that greeted that suggestion, she turned to find her friend's lips pressed together. “Is something the matter?”

Barbara set aside her book. “I promised Slade I would not leave you alone with him. Not today.”

Irritation sputtered to life. Much as she appreciated his concern, surely Slade realized that bringing Barbara into the mix was a terrible idea. “You know well he will simply ask to see me in another room if he wants to be alone with me.”

Her friend looked sterner than she had ever seen her. “That doesn't mean you hand him the opportunity. Be wise, Mari.”

She was trying. If he demanded to see her alone and Barbara refused to leave… She glanced out the window again. He was on the front walk now, and his expression shouted that he was in no mood to be refused.

Her throat went tight. Barbara might be mild under normal circumstances, but she didn't take promises lightly. And a confrontation between them would not end well.

Her decision made, Marietta ran toward the exit.

“What are you doing?”

She ignored the alarm in Barbara's tone. “I will lead him to the back garden. Walker will be able to see us.”

Not waiting to see whether Barbara approved, Marietta pivoted into the hall and made for the door. The first tap had just sounded when she pulled it open.

Surprise cloaked his face. “Mari. You are opening your own doors now?”

She smiled and stepped out into the warm twilight. “I was waiting for you.” True enough, if without the happy expectation he would wish. She pulled the door shut. “It is too nice an evening to spend indoors. Will you join me in the garden?”

“Gladly.” Pleasure lit his eyes for the first time in weeks as he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. She felt his gaze on her face as he led her around the corner. “The bruises are gone, I see.”

“Mm-hmm. And I imagine with the victory news, there will be many a ball we can attend together.” The very thought made unease spread its wings within her, but what else was she to do?

“I suppose so.” No satisfaction laced his tone. It must be eclipsed by the mention of the victory he would deem defeat. “Or…your mourning will be over in another two weeks.”

Thirteen days, to be exact. A mark on her mental calendar that at once thrilled and terrified her. She would be free, finally, of the confines of grief. But that meant she would be in the direct path of Dev's expectations.

“You cannot know how I long to see you in full colors again. In that green dress, perhaps. You know the one.” Desire made his voice husky and sent a shiver of warning up her spine.

She knew the gown, all right, and saw again the way Dev had looked at her when she wore it to a ball. Heard again the whispered proposal he had made when Lucien left her side to fetch her a lemonade. She had laughed him off as always, but it had been too difficult. She had known then that she must put a halt to the attraction before it led her down a path she didn't want to tread. Had vowed, silly a step as she knew it, never to wear that dress around him again.

It was the last colored gown she had donned. The very next night Lucien had gone out late when he got word there was trouble at the rail station. And an hour after that, it had been not her husband who came home, but the police, with the news of his murder.

“Mari.” Dev halted her at the trellis, under the newly blossomed wisteria vine. Its sweet fragrance whispered through the air, lending a mood she didn't want. He slid his hands onto her waist and pulled her close. “I need you tonight.”

She couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see that dark light in his eyes. “Dev, I cannot…I
will
not. Not again.”

His hands slid up her back, possessive and undaunted. “Marry me, then. Now. I can call the minister and get whatever license we need within an hour.”

Panic brought the images clamoring, nonsensical and pointless. The scores of weddings she had attended, snippets from her own. Lucien laughing, the victory in his summer-green eyes as he spun her into their first waltz. The answering challenge in Dev's as he claimed the next one.

Granddad Thad emerging too somber from Daddy's study, watching her.

Dev leaned down now with obvious intent, fanning the flames of panic hotter. “Be mine, darling. Now and forever.”

She tried to twist away, but his arms held her tight. “Dev, you can't be serious. Elopement? You wanted a courtship. To show the world—”

“And how better to do that than with a
fait accompli
?” He claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss that kindled revulsion within her.

God of my end, help me. Show me how to escape him, Father.

Father—a thought she held tight to as she extracted herself from his embrace, careful to keep only sorrow on her face. “Darling, you know how I have longed to marry you, but the war is over, or it will be within days. My father will be home. Please, let's wait for him.”

He turned away with a curse vile enough to make her wince and then pivoted back with tight rage on his face. “You don't understand. It has to be now. Things will change with the end of the war, Mari. Things will…happen.”

She could feel her pulse thudding in her throat and prayed he couldn't see it in the low light. “Of course things will change, but not for us.”

He gripped her by the shoulders, his fingers digging enough that a whimper of pain escaped. They relaxed immediately. Apology lit his eyes. “Don't be a fool. Do you think Lincoln will just release all the power he has seized?” His fingers bit again. “I need you to trust me. I need to know where you stand, Mari.”

A shiver slithered up her spine. Granddad Thad's very words two and a half months ago, the morning he brought her into the Culper Ring. Had embracing her loyalties made any difference at all? Had she accomplished anything with her hours of transcription, with the bottles of invisible ink she had used?

She knocked his hands away. “At the moment I stand with a man who is acting the bully. Don't play the tyrant with me, Devereaux.”

“Don't push me away. I swear to you, you'll regret it.” The look in his eye sent her back a step, though he followed. “At least give me the words. Is that so much to ask?”

She retreated more, though again he pursued her. “What words?”

“The ones you refused Lucien.” The flash in his eyes put her in mind of the storm that had left so many houses in ruins. “He thought it a blessing, the fool, that you never asked for words of love. But we know the truth, you and I.” He grabbed her arm again, twisting so that she had no choice but to land against his chest or else let him wrench her shoulder out of socket. “We know you never spoke of love to him because your heart was mine.”

Words echoed, a crystalline reminder.
God's, not Dev's
.

“Tell me.” He pressed her too close, so that she could scarcely breathe. “Tell me you love me. Tell me you're mine.”

“You think you can demand those words by force?” She pushed in vain at his chest, her heart thundering when she saw a shadowed figure beyond him. “Let go, Dev. You're hurting me.”

“No. You're mine, Marietta. You have already given yourself to me. Why fight me now?”

Oh, Lord, please don't let that be Slade
. He already knew plenty of her secrets, but that one… He would no doubt look at her with the same horror Walker had. But if his eyes shone with disappointment instead of the affection that had taken place of the wolf, she wasn't sure she could bear it.

The shadow stepped into a patch of dim light. Walker.
Thank You, Lord
. Though he didn't look nearly so happy as she felt at seeing him. “I believe the lady asked you to take your hands off of her.”

Dev let go with one, but only so he could turn around, dragging her with him. The muscle in his jaw pulsed. “You think you can order me around, boy?”

Walker smiled, small and mean. “You think I'm gonna stand here while you ravage her like you did Cora? Give me an excuse, Hughes. Give me an excuse to hurt you.”

Pushing her away, Dev reached under his coat and pulled out a dagger that gleamed with menace in the light from the windows.

Not
a
dagger—it was the one from the cellar. Marietta sucked in a
breath and jumped between them. Grateful as she was to have a champion, her tainted virtue wasn't worth Walker's life. Her eyes fastened on Dev's too-calm face. “Put that away.”

He didn't even glance at her. “Step aside, Marietta. I don't intend to let some half-breed mutt think he can intimidate me.”

From behind her came the rustle of fabric. The sound of a gun being cocked, of a revolver's cylinder rotating into place. “Do your worst, Hughes.” Walker's voice was a low rumble, sure and steady.

For a moment, she feared Dev would lunge past her, take his chances against a bullet, and plunge the knife into Walker's chest. The way he narrowed his eyes…but then he shifted his gaze to her, and the calculation changed.