Captain Holland’s voice was implacable. She looked away, scanning his office for clues about how best to make her case. The windowsill was covered with diplomas, awards, and framed photographs of Captain Holland with prominent citizens. He was obviously a man who took pride in his position. It hadn’tescaped her notice that he’d had his son escort his wife home from the state dinner rather than leave early and forgo mingling with the cream of Washington society. Perhaps she should lean on that weakness.
“President McKinley suggested you are a man who might be able to help me. He touted your knowledge of byzantine military laws. Surely he wasn’t wrong about that....” She let the sentence dangle.
Captain Holland’s spine stiffened. “I am the navy’s top legal advisor, and as such, I won’t have my credentials questioned by a woman with no understanding of these affairs.”
“I confess to having no military experience, but I understand plenty about politics. I know that a quick trial overseas will be the easiest way to sweep this scandal under the carpet and pretend there is no ongoing rebellion against the glorious American occupation. I want my brother transferred to the mainland, where I can be certain his rights are protected.”
Captain Holland’s face looked like it was carved from stone. “He stays in Cuba. End of story.”
“Then I want him to be given permission to send letters to his family and an attorney on the mainland,” she countered. “You are holding him incommunicado, and since he hasn’t been found guilty yet, I want to be able to exchange letters with him.”
Captain Holland’s gaze strayed out the window as he considered the request. “You are aware that all communication with a prisoner of his status will be read by the authorities before it leaves the island.”
She would expect no less, but she was surprised he admitted it. “I understand.”
He gave a brusque nod. “I will issue the command today. Have a good day, Miss Delacroix.”
The conversation was over. Allowing Luke to send letters to them was a tiny concession, but at least she wasn’t leaving empty-handed.
The following day, Caroline attended another meeting to discuss the reelection campaign, but it was repeatedly interrupted by the first lady. Ida had forgotten to take her nerve tonic the previous evening, so she awoke in a ferocious mood. That led to a migraine, which meant only her husband could calm her down. The president had been called out of the meeting to attend his wife, and Sven de Haas simmered in resentment as they sat in the reception room outside the president’s office, awaiting his return. On a day like this, it was hard to guess if that would be in ten minutes or two hours.
“Why can’t she be like a normal woman and support her husband?” Sven grumbled as he paced a circle around the cluster of chairs. “Why can’t she be a helpmeet instead of a constant, incessant, irritating, and annoying drag on him?”
Caroline bit her tongue, fighting back the urge to ask why Mr. McKinley had run for the highest office in the land when he knew his wife wasn’t up to it. She didn’t like Ida’s tantrums any more than Sven, but the first lady had been dealt a brutal round of blows in her life and was more fragile than most women. It was the way God had made her, but trying to reason with a man like Sven was pointless, so Caroline cut straight to the point.
“Ida McKinley is the First Lady of the United States. If you can’t show her a modicum of respect, you may be in the wrong job.”
Sven heard the veiled threat and whirled to point a finger in her face. “I am an essential member of the president’s team. You’re only here to help his wife manage tea parties.”
“Oh, sit down and shut up, Sven,” she groused. “You sound like a hummingbird with whooping cough.”
He threw himself into a chair in the corner and glowered at her. Before he could make any other nasty remarks, the doorbanged open, and Nathaniel strode inside. He looked out of breath and furious, and she instinctively stood.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I just met with the chief of the Secret Service. Mr. Wilkie had interesting things to relay about why you’ve been meeting with a criminal attorney.”
She blanched, glancing over at Sven, whose eyes had widened in shock. The last thing she wanted was the only enemy she had on the president’s staff to know about this. Her mouth went dry, and her hands were clammy.
“Let’s step outside where we can speak privately,” she said, managing to keep a calm tone.
Nathaniel looked taken aback by Sven’s presence, for he sat in a shadowy corner, his face awash in cool, calculating fascination.
“Get out,” Nathaniel bluntly ordered.
“Actually, I’m enjoying the fireworks,” Sven said.
“This is a matter of national security. You can leave of your own accord, or I can have you removed,” Nathaniel said. “Your call.”
Sven’s face tightened in displeasure, but he collected his stack of papers and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Caroline forced herself to breathe smoothly. Nathaniel’s boorish behavior would not ruffle her. She was a proud daughter of Virginia and would not act guilty or ashamed, for Luke’s freedom rested on her ability to keep this job.
“Is this how they teach gentlemen to behave in Chicago?” she asked the moment the door clicked shut behind Sven.
Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know the rules for how to behave when you find someone you trusted withheld information.”
She raised a single brow. “I was under no obligation to disclose my family history to you.”
