No matter what her father said, Luke Delacroix was a man of selfless valor. What other man in his position would endure months of restrictive food trials in the name of science?
She bit the side of her lip as indecision clawed at her. Never had she felt so accepted by another human being as she did when she was with Luke, and she couldn’t walk away from that feeling quite yet.
“I still go to the Gunderson studio every Friday morning to develop my photographs,” she whispered.
“I can’t wait until Friday. Where are you taking pictures next?”
On Monday she was slated to photograph the navy’s shipyard at low tide, which meant six o’clock in the evening. She would be alone. There would be no fear of discovery if they met at the isolated dry dock.
“I’ll be at the Navy Yard at six o’clock on Monday evening,” she said. “Can you meet me then?”
He shook his head. “I eat with the Poison Squad at six o’clock sharp, and there’s no escaping it. Can you wait? I’ll eat fast and can be there by seven.”
“I’ll wait for you,” she said, her heart already speeding up at the prospect. “Now I need to go find my mother.”
She didn’t look back as she hastened toward the torchlit gathering under the awnings, but she felt Luke watching her the entire way.
Vera was incensed by the time Marianne found her. “Where have you been?” she whispered fiercely. “I need to use the ladies’ room and can hardly do so without assistance.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Vera took little mincing steps, which was all the gown allowed, as they headed toward the building with the facilities. Even after emerging from the stall, Vera continued pointing out the problems caused by Marianne’s absence, including the fact that Marianne had the compact of rice powder, and Vera’s nose had grown unacceptably shiny.
“I’ve looked like an oil slick for the last half hour,” she said reproachfully as she dabbed the powder puff across the slight sheen on her face. “Where on earth did you disappear to?”
“I was admiring the sights,” Marianne said, which was certainly the truth.
“Well, don’t disappear again,” Vera castigated, but the moment they emerged from the building, her face assumed the beatific look of an angel as she glided toward the party. For the next hour Vera exchanged air kisses with other Washington socialites, flirted with a Supreme Court justice, playfully tapped her fan against the shoulder of a Russian diplomat, and generally appeared to be walking on air.
All the while Marianne watched Luke from the corner of her eye. He mingled with ease, bantering with men and flirting with women. He didn’t touch a morsel of food or drink. She took care not to let Vera notice where her attention strayed, but she savored every forbidden glance at him.
Then Luke stepped onto the dance floor with his sister, and he became impossible to ignore. He and Caroline created quite a stir in their identical musketeer uniforms as they effortlessly launched into a waltz. How dazzling they looked!
“Altogether appalling,” Vera whispered into her ear, but Marianne disagreed, as did most of Washington society, who seemed delighted to admire the two master dancers execute a flamboyant waltz. Other dancers pulled aside as Luke and Caroline cut a swath across the floor. Caroline’s trousers and high leather boots made it easy to watch their footwork as they swooped, slid, and twirled in tandem. They were both laughing, as were the people lining the dance floor who started applauding even while the duo continued to waltz.
Even Gray Delacroix was smiling, watching his younger siblings. He glanced up and caught Marianne watching him.
Did he know who she was? He must, for his smile faded as he locked eyes with her across the dance floor. Luke’s older brother was a stranger to her except for the one time he grabbed her ankle and dragged her off the ice on a bitterly cold day in January. After she scrambled back onto shore, he had been entirely focused on tending Luke and hadn’t spared her a second glance.
How different things were this warm summer evening beneath the stars. Gray nodded to her. It was a stiff nod, full of formality and brooding concern, but it was polite. Barely.
The dancing came to an end shortly after that terse nod, and then it was time for speeches, always to be expected during a charity event. Caroline still seemed a little breathless as she took command of the evening by speaking about the importance of the school to train women for skilled jobs in the workforce. Then she began auctioning off donated items, raising thousands of dollars in the space of twenty minutes.
They auctioned items large and small. An emerald bracelet, a painting by Edgar Degas, and box seats at the opera commanded steep prices. Other items were more fun, like the baseball signed by the entire Washington Senators team and a set of model train cars donated by President Roosevelt.
Then a pair of attendants carried out ten individual garlands of flowering blossoms that had been used to decorate the venue this evening. The garlands perfectly complemented Botticelli’s Primavera, and now that the evening was drawing to a close, they would be awarded to the first ten people who promised to donate fifty dollars to the girls’ school.
Luke’s hand shot up, along with a handful of other men’s. The garlands were soon gone, and Luke stepped forward to claim his prize. He poked and prodded among the garlands, and it looked like he selected the one primarily featuring rich blue forget-me-nots.
Marianne’s eyes widened as she realized his intent. No sooner had Luke claimed his garland than he began heading straight toward her. Didn’t he realize her mother was standing right beside her? His smile was wide as he looped the garland around her neck.
“For the prettiest lady at the gala,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“You shouldn’t have,” she stammered.
“Why not? The flowers are the exact shade of your eyes.” It looked like he wanted to add more, but he must have noticed the alarm on her face, and his eyes flicked to Vera. Luke proffered her mother a little bow and stepped back a pace. “Have a good evening, ladies.”
Vera’s hand tightened around Marianne’s arm like a claw. “Your father is to know nothing about this, but don’t you dare put me in a position like that ever again.”
Fifteen
At breakfast the next morning, Vera chattered nonstop about the gala, the costumes, and the assorted delicacies served throughout the evening. Clyde listened politely as Vera rambled in exhaustive detail about the items auctioned and who wore what.
The one thing Vera didn’t mention was the presence of the Delacroixs, for which Marianne was grateful. If her father knew the gala had been hosted and attended by all three Delacroix siblings, it would cause trouble. When Vera laughed at her own joke about how odd a waltz played on a harpsichord sounded, Clyde managed to interject a comment about his own evening.
“I had a productive meeting with the Committee on Military Affairs,” he said. “It was mostly congressmen, but a few men from the army were there, including Colonel Phelps.” Clyde met Marianne’s eyes across the table. “I think he would be a good match for you.”
She tried not to choke on her bite of cranberry muffin. Her father’s efforts to encourage a match between her and the young colonel had been simmering for months, but he’d never been so blatant before.