Caroline caught her breath, then a door in the hallway jerked open and Gray Delacroix stood there, his face grim. “What happened?” he demanded.
Marianne took a step back. The foyer suddenly felt too small, given the way Gray towered over her in suspicious disapproval. She clutched her reticule, terribly aware of the slip of paper with the chemical equations of exactly what had caused Luke’s illness. This was possibly the last topic she wished to discuss with these two people, but they were rightfully concerned about Luke.
“Some of the men had a bad reaction to the food. A doctor has seen them, and all are on the mend. It may take a few days for them to get over the dizziness and a bit of a headache.”
“A bit of a headache?” Gray snapped. “Explain.”
“I’m not a medical doctor. He’s got a headache. I don’t know how to be any more plain than that.”
Gray strode to the front door and yanked a jacket off a hook. “I’m going over there.”
“I think you’ll find him sleeping,” Marianne said.
Indecision caused Gray to pause, but Caroline was better at disguising her feelings. “Don’t be difficult, Gray. Let’s invite Marianne inside for a cup of tea. I’ll send the minister a note to reschedule. We should get to know each other.”
Gray’s expression softened a fraction. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said to Marianne. “Your grandfather just filed another lawsuit against me.”
Lawsuits were Jedidiah’s preferred method of communication. He was crafty and tough but not skilled with words and preferred to let his lawyers do his public fighting. This latest court action was over an outrageous stunt Luke and Gray had engineered last year that slandered how the Magruders made applesauce.
“I know,” she replied. “Why don’t you just say you’re sorry?”
“Because I’m not.”
“Why do you hate my grandfather so much?” Marianne asked. “Because he came from humble stock? Because his accent isn’t refined like yours?”
“Because he takes shortcuts,” Gray said. “Look, this conversation isn’t going to be helpful. I’m sure you are a very fine—”
“Gray,” Caroline interrupted. “Do you remember what I relayed to you about Luke’s newest fascination?”
Gray’s face hardened as he turned his attention to his sister. “It’s just the lure of forbidden fruit.”
They were talking about her. Marianne could feel it in her bones.
Before she could say anything else, though, Caroline took her arm and escorted her down a skinny hallway toward a kitchen at the back of the house. It was a homey room, with copper pans and bundles of dried herbs hanging from a rack above a worktable. Caroline offered Marianne a seat at an old kitchen table, then floated around the kitchen, preparing a kettle and setting out teacups.
“Tell me about yourself,” she said brightly. “I tried to seek you out at the gala, but you disappeared so quickly.”
Because she and Luke had stolen away behind the service tent, where she had the most breathless two hours of her life.
Marianne opted for a safer topic. “I work as a photographer for the Department of the Interior.”
Caroline asked all sorts of questions about Marianne’s opinions on art and techniques for getting a good photograph. The effortless way she kept asking questions made the conversation easy, and Marianne soon relaxed. Caroline was about to brew a second pot of tea when Marianne noticed the time.
“Oh dear, I’ve missed the one o’clock streetcar back into town.” That meant she would need to loiter in Alexandria until the three o’clock streetcar.
“Not to worry,” Caroline assured her. “Gray can arrange for a carriage to take you home.”
“No, I’ll be fine,” Marianne rushed to say. She didn’t have enough money on her for a private carriage all the way home. “I can window-shop until the three o’clock streetcar.”
“Nonsense,” Gray said, appearing in the kitchen doorway. “Come. We’re the ones who delayed you, so let us make it right.”
It would be rude to refuse, so she followed him down the hall and out the front door. There was a public stable at the end of the street, and it looked like Gray intended to accompany her there and pay her fare. The sun was nearly blinding, and she scrambled for something to say.
There was no need, as Gray got straight to the point as they walked along the cobblestone street, his voice surprisingly kind.
“My brother is a wounded soul. What he’s doing to himself with that poison study is proof of that, and it isn’t the first time he’s risked his life over some heroic quest. He never felt good enough in our father’s eyes, and it’s made him reckless and rebellious. If he spots danger, he is drawn to it like a lodestone. You need to understand this about him.”
Gray paused, letting the sentence sink in. Once again, he was talking about her without saying so, but what Gray didn’t realize was that she and Luke were already half in love with each other before they realized the problem of their last names.
“I hear everything you are saying,” she said calmly.
They arrived at the stables, and Gray paid the fee for the carriage, then turned to shake her hand.
“You seem like an admirable woman,” he said. “In other circumstances we would have been friends, but be very careful with Luke. He likes teetering on the razor’s edge of trouble, and one of these days he might push it too far. You won’t want to be with him when that happens.”
The warning stayed with her all the way back to the city.
Nineteen
By evening Luke was feeling better. Everyone on the Poison Squad was given a reprieve from chemically treated food for the rest of the week. The last vestige of his headache was a painful reminder of what polluted food could do to a man, and it strengthened his resolve to push for government regulation of these chemicals.
That resolve made his feelings for Marianne even more difficult. He would forever remember their intimacy as she nursed him through the night. If he was a painter, he would try to capture the way moonlight lit the side of her face as she sat opposite him on the window seat, sharing her heart and soul with him. He loved her, and she loved him. They would find a way to make this work.
He glanced down the street, searching through the pedestrians and carriages in search of her. She’d promised to visit him this evening, and he felt like a lovestruck swain as he awaited her return. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she always knew the perfect thing to say. Her courage. The way she seemed so buoyant.
The way he might be able to use her to get an upper hand over Clyde Magruder.
Guilt gnawed at him. Using Marianne in such a capacity threatened everything they had together, but he had warned her about his low, shifty side. She just hadn’t experienced it yet. Maybe she didn’t believe it existed, but it did.
A streetcar came to a stop at the end of the block, and he grinned as Marianne emerged from it. She quickened her steps when she spotted him, skipping a little in delight. He held both his arms wide, and she gave up trying to be mannerly. She hiked up her skirts and ran the last few yards until his arms closed around her and they kissed each other, heedless of passersby on the street.