“What sort of job?” he asked skeptically.
“Brace yourself. She will be working at the White House as social secretary for the first lady.”
“What in the world is a social secretary?”
Luke sauntered toward the bedroom window, casually propping a shoulder against the molding. “Apparently Mrs. McKinley is a notorious recluse. She doesn’t like mingling with the public, is homesick for Ohio, and needs someone to help her navigate the DC social whirl. Caroline will be good at that.”
Gray tossed down the towel and reached for a shirt, jerking it on with stiff motions. “I don’t like President McKinley,” he said tersely. “She shouldn’t have anything to do with him or his administration.”
“Is that the best you can say? All these years you’ve been nagging us to lead responsible lives, and now Caroline has a plum position, one of the best in the city. Do you need to immediately lunge for the fly in the ointment to criticize her?”
“You consider the Spanish-American War a fly in the ointment? Thousands of Americans died. Our government barged into places we have no business being.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” Luke said sarcastically. “You criticize the president for conquering Cuba, but you want me to go down there to capitalize on the results of the war.”
It was a ridiculous accusation, and Gray wasn’t about to acceptit. “I do business with nations all over the world by setting up mutually beneficial trade alliances. I don’t sign contracts while pointing a gun at anyone. The United States shouldn’t be in the business of collecting colonies, and that’s precisely what President McKinley has done.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “We both know Caroline doesn’t have a political bone in her body. She’s helping an awkward woman host a few tea parties. Let her do it. Tell her you’re proud of her.”
Was it possible to be proud of his sister for working for a presidential administration he instinctively mistrusted? But Luke was right. He’d always wanted Caroline to funnel her talents toward something beyond the latest hairstyle or ball gown, but that didn’t mean he was overjoyed by this latest development.
“She’s twenty-eight years old,” he conceded. “She’s chosen her own course, however distasteful, but I suppose she shall perform it well.” Caroline had earned her reputation by flying high in the social whirl and always knowing the perfect quip.
Luke pushed away from the wall, disapproval rampant on his face. “You’ve made it very apparent that we are both crushing disappointments in your eyes, but try to summon up a little more enthusiasm the next time you see Caroline. She deserves better than what you think of her.”
The door closed behind him with a gentle click.
Annabelle was determined to spend dinner picking Gray’s mind for insight into the rare orchid. At the very least, if she could confirm Gray had one, perhaps it would please Dr. Norwood. But her intention to focus on the orchid flew out the window the moment she entered the farmhouse dining room.
“What am I smelling?” she asked. She’d begun noticing the heavenly aromas while resting in the upstairs guest room, but they got stronger as she descended the staircase.
Gray smiled as he led her toward the table. The dining room was a cozy mix of comfortable farmhouse furniture set alongside elegant candelabras, china, and silver laid on a lace tablecloth. “The housekeeper has prepared a lamb roast seasoned with a dry rub of smoked Hungarian paprika, a little dried coriander, some ground sumac and cumin, and a dash of curry powder.”
Most of those spices were new to her, but if they tasted as good as they smelled, this dinner was going to be unforgettable. “In my world, seasoning means salt and pepper,” she admitted.
Gray’s face lit with amusement, but before he could respond, his younger brother came bounding down the staircase. As Gray had predicted, Luke was indeed wearing a formal coat with a snowy white dress shirt and tie. It made his daredevil recklessness even more handsome as he flashed her a smile.
“Welcome to Delacroix dining,” Luke said as he grabbed her shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to each cheek. “Gray rarely invites guests unless he intends to pull out all the stops. It’s a subtle sales pitch to promote our spices to every person who crosses the threshold.”
“I’m already sold,” she said.
“Is it true the only seasonings you use are salt and pepper?” Gray asked as he held out a chair for her.
And he called her naïve! They lived in the same country, yet he had no idea how people in the Great Plains lived.
“The nearest general store to our farm is an hour by wagon,” she said as she draped a napkin across her lap. “It sells everything from plowshares to horse feed to bolts of cloth. Their seasonings are limited to vinegar, salt, and pepper. For such a worldly man, you don’t seem to know much about life in the United States,” she teased. “TherealUnited States, not a fancy east coast city that has papayas from Mexico and vanilla from Madagascar.”
Dinner was superb, with herbed potatoes, asparagus with fresh ginger, and wonderfully seasoned lamb. Every bite was an explosion of flavor. The evening finished with the most divine vanilla tart she’d ever tasted. Everything served had a complex, multi-dimensional flavor that would have been fit for a king, and she told him so. It would be foolish to deny the value of what he bottled and sold.
Gray sent a triumphant look Luke’s way. “See? Delacroix Global Spice has a long way to go in extending our reach right here in America. More than half of the population still lives in rural communities, and there’s no reason we can’t ship our spices to them.”
“Aren’t you the one who warned me not to talk business at dinner?” Luke asked. “That we were to act like gracious hosts?”
Gray sent her an apologetic glance. “Guilty. It appears I’ve spent too many years with my head buried in shipping invoices and contracts.”
“We could talk about orchids,” she broached. “I’m still eager for a chance to see your orchid house.”
Luke shuddered. “It’s humid in there, and all those plants look alike.”
