“I’ll bet this is it,” she whispered.
“Probably,” Nathaniel said. “Are you going to be all right? You look pale.”
She’d be all right. No matter what happened, she would figure out a way to get Luke free, but it would help if the president was an ally. She twisted her hands, hearing the front door open and silence descend on the people gathered inside.
Then a cheer. A roar and clapping and foot-stamping came from inside. Champagne corks popped, and people shouted congratulations and huzzahs.
She collapsed onto the stone bench, doubling over and drawing deep breaths of air. Nathaniel dropped to the bench with her. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Caroline?”
She couldn’t even speak, just nod, for Luke still had a chance.
Fifteen
The day Nathaniel returned to Washington, the weight of responsibility began to lift. He had designed a plan to secure the White House and keep the president safe while traveling. He could leave the job with a clean conscience. All he needed was Wilkie’s signature on his transfer papers, and then he could turn them in to the Secretary of the Treasury and begin his new assignment back in the counterfeit division.
Except Wilkie was being difficult. His wedding anniversary was tomorrow, and he wanted to go shopping for a gift. Nathaniel needed to turn these papers in today, or his transfer couldn’t take effect for another month.
Refusing to be put off, he followed Wilkie through half a dozen shops in search of the perfect gift for Mrs. Wilkie. After unsuccessful trips to a jeweler, a silversmith, and a milliner, they were now visiting a perfume store, where Wilkie sampled countless bottles of overpriced imported perfume.
Perfume! This was a man who had once wrestled a bear and waded into a gang of rioting strikers in Chicago. Now he sampled perfume with an embarrassing level of fascination. He spritzed a bit onto a paper card and wafted it before his nose, looking faintly disappointed.
“What do you think of this one?” Wilkie asked, holding the paper toward Nathaniel. They were probably the only two men to ever grace this frilly shop. The walls were covered in lavender fabric, and the glass counters were decorated with floral arrangements.
“I think it’s magnificent and your wife will adore it. Now, how about you sign this transfer request?” Nathaniel said, setting the paper on the counter. “I’ve even brought the pen.”
Wilkie ignored the form and slid the bottle back toward the pretty female clerk. “The bottom notes are musky and alluring, but the lilac top notes ... well, it smells like something my grandmother would have worn. What else have you got? What fragrance sells the moment you offer it? Price is no concern. My wife has endured a year of monstrous neglect from me, and I am of a mind to buy something special.”
The clerk shrugged. “Our best-selling perfume comes from Kentucky. A blend of rose and night-blooming jasmine. It’s not terribly expensive, but the ladies love it.”
Wilkie looked skeptical. “Kentucky?” he muttered. “It’s going to be hard to impress Jennette with something from Kentucky, but let’s have a whiff.”
While the clerk reached for a bottle, Nathaniel slipped the document forward. “If you sign this now, I can still get it submitted ahead of the monthly deadline.”
“Not now. I’m shopping.”
Nathaniel’s head felt ready to explode. “We discussed this. You agreed when I took the job that I could be off the hook after the election. The only way that happens is if I get this form turned in.”
The clerk returned with a round bottle, and Wilkie looked skeptical as she lifted the stopper, but his face morphed into pure joy the moment he waved it beneath his nose.
“This is it!” he exclaimed, then leaned in for another sniff, taking a moment to process the scent. “I think I smell a blendof rich tuberose and jasmine ... but something else to lighten the floral scent. Pears? Or perhaps a citrus base?”
The clerk looked gobsmacked. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “All I know is that a lot of people like it.”
“Wrap it up. I’ll take it.”
“Glory hallelujah,” Nathaniel muttered. “Would you please sign these forms?”
By now it was doubtful he could get back to the Treasury in time, but maybe if he hired a private carriage instead of relying on a streetcar, he could still pull it off.
“Don’t be so hasty,” Wilkie said. “I’d prefer not to speak of confidential details in public.”
Nathaniel folded his arms across his chest, annoyed as the clerk took forever to wrap the box, but Wilkie finally paid the bill, and they stepped out into the frigid air. The November wind carried a hint of sleet, and Wilkie gestured to a bench beneath a pharmacy awning.
“Could you please tell me what’s going on?” Nathaniel asked once they were seated.
Instead of answering, Wilkie took out a slim cheroot and lit it, taking time to slowly draw on it and blow a perfectly round smoke ring that was quickly obliterated by a chilly gust of wind. If Nathaniel didn’t know better, he’d suspect Wilkie was nervous.
“Have you been in touch with George Cortelyou about the president’s plans for next year?”
