He began to describe it to her. Five hundred guests were expected, including all manner of politicians and industrialists. The reception would probably echo through the ages. “President Roosevelt was called to Boston, so he won’t be attending, but every other high-ranking official and officer in the city will be there.”
“Including Colonel Phelps,” Marianne said, a hint of unease in her voice.
The name was familiar. Colonel Phelps was one of those officers who’d vaulted to prominence during the Spanish-American War, and he was a trusted advisor to the president.
“Why do you bring him up?” Luke asked carefully.
“My father is very keen on Colonel Phelps,” she replied, watching a pigeon wrestle with a crust of pretzel. “He’s been invited to our house for dinner on Sunday.”
Clyde Magruder didn’t do anything lightly. If Colonel Phelps was invited to dinner, Clyde had a reason. Luke cut straight to the chase. “Colonel Phelps seems like the kind of man your father would like for a son-in-law.”
Marianne looked almost relieved that he had said it, rather than owning it herself. “There’s no doubt that is what he’d like.”
“And you?” Luke held his breath. He and Marianne hadn’t made any vows to each other, and she was free to court a more suitable man if she wished.
She snorted. “You have no competition from Colonel Phelps. He’s so stiff and formal, I think he’s got laundry starch running through his veins.”
Unpleasant thoughts took shape in Luke’s mind. Maybe she wasn’t taken with Colonel Phelps, but her status-hungry parents were going to pressure her to reconsider. Marianne continued talking, recounting a handful of encounters she’d had with the colonel over the past few months. Jealousy flared. It didn’t matter that Marianne didn’t care for Colonel Phelps. Luke didn’t like the prospect of anyone else courting her.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him before?” he asked.
“Because he is nothing to me, but I felt dishonest letting it continue without telling you. He’s invited to our home on Sunday for dinner. Andrew and Delia will be here to watch my father’s speech on the House floor. Papa thought it would be a good chance for Colonel Phelps to meet the rest of the family.”
Luke’s jaw tightened. “And what do you think?”
“I think I’m sorry I told you,” she said. “I don’t want to add to your burdens. You’ve already got so much on your shoulders with the Poison Squad and the Don Quixote translation. And now your sister’s wedding. Everyone is supposed to be deliriously happy at a wedding, but I know tomorrow won’t be a day of undiluted joy for you.”
His heart turned over. How easily she could read him, and even this low, selfish part of him didn’t seem to repulse her. “I’m such a lousy rat for feeling that way.”
“Tell me what I can do to make these next few days easier for you.”
The open-ended offer triggered an avalanche of wild dreams. Run away to California with him, go dancing under the moonlight, drink wine straight from the bottle. He lowered his request into the realm of something a little scandalous but not too difficult.
“Meet me at the arboretum tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. The wedding festivities will be over, and we can steal a few hours together. Can you get away?”
“I can,” she agreed with a reassuring smile.
“Thanks.”
It was such a puny word for his boundless gratitude. He needed her company more than she could know, for Caroline’s wedding was going to be tough. He was hanging on by a thread, but knowing Marianne would be waiting for him at the end of the day was a talisman that would make it worthwhile.
Twenty-Two
Luke wolfed down breakfast at the boardinghouse, grateful he was in the control group this week. He had personally appealed to Dr. Wiley to be spared chemical concoctions in the days before Caroline’s wedding. The doctor refused to confirm Luke would be in the control group, but the old bachelor had a huge sentimental streak he kept deeply hidden, and Luke was certain his request had been honored.
He headed to the Delacroix town house, where a team of seamstresses, a florist, and a hairdresser had already arrived to help Caroline prepare. Gray would be giving the bride away, and Luke still ached at the thought that after tonight, someone else would forever be first in Caroline’s affections.
Gray’s wife was in the front hall, taking an inventory of a huge mound of wedding gifts piled on the hall table.
“Good heavens, you look lovely,” he said to Annabelle, who was already dressed for the wedding in a breathtaking gown of canary yellow silk. It was a soft, floating gown that easily accommodated her expanding waistline.
“Caroline’s doing,” Annabelle replied with a wink. “We visited three different dressmakers before she was satisfied with a design for it.”
As a farmer’s daughter from Kansas, it had taken Annabelle a while to adjust to the elegant fashions of Washington’s high society. Annabelle normally preferred to dress simply, but there was nothing normal about today. This was going to be the wedding of the year, and Luke’s formal suit was waiting for him upstairs.
“I’d better get dressed as well. I take it Caroline is still upstairs?”
Annabelle nodded. “She’s with the hairdresser. The train of her gown will get crumpled in the carriage, so the wedding dress has already been delivered to the church. We leave in an hour so she’ll have plenty of time to get dressed.” She glanced at the clock with an expression of baffled amusement. “I never realized it took so many hours to get properly dressed.”
He leaned in to kiss her cheek and forced himself to sound cheerful. “Hang in there. You’re doing a great job.”
Today was already harder than expected. He was thrilled for Caroline. Of course he was. And he was a master at faking good cheer even when he didn’t feel it.
Ten minutes later Luke was inserting a white carnation into the lapel of his black cutaway coat. He was in full formal attire, with a high starched collar and a lavender silk cravat secured with a tiny diamond stud.
Time to face Caroline. He flipped open the lid of a slim velvet box, gazing down at the gift he’d had custom-made. It had galled him to commission it, but Caroline deserved to know that he was fully prepared to accept Nathaniel into their family. Would she understand the symbolism of the brooch he designed for her? He didn’t want it getting lost among the dozens of gifts already mounded in the hall below, and he wanted to be there when she opened it.
He crossed the hall to her bedroom, where the hair stylist was putting the finishing touches on an artistic coiffure. Most of Caroline’s hair was artfully coiled atop her head, but plenty cascaded down her back in loose spiraling waves.
He met Caroline’s laughing gaze in the mirror. “Can I steal two minutes?” he asked as the hairstylist left the room.
“You can have as many as you want,” she said. “Or at least as many as you need before ten o’clock. That’s when the carriage arrives to take me to the church.”
“Dad always called us two peas in a pod,” he said as he retrieved the slim box from his pocket.
Actually, everyone called them two peas in a pod. As twins, they had shared the same womb and arrived into this world within six minutes of each other. They shared a crib for their first year and a school bench when learning to read. They had an uncanny bond of camaraderie as they grew older, but it was time to say good-bye to their exclusive friendship and widen it to include others.