Vera leaned in close. “Delacroix?” she whispered harshly. “Is she one ofthoseDelacroixs?”
“Yes, Mama, she is, but this isn’t the place for dramatics.” Thank heavens her father wasn’t here, because he was far less likely to play by the rules of polite society. Could Caroline? With so many people crowded behind them, there was no way to escape the meeting.
“Welcome!” Caroline Delacroix said warmly as Marianne and Vera stepped beneath the flower-draped arch. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
Marianne met her eyes. “I’m Marianne Magruder, and this is my mother, Mrs. Vera Magruder.”
Caroline’s eyes widened briefly in recognition, but she quickly masked whatever else she was feeling. “Well! Aren’t you brave,” she said with a coy wink. “Tonight, we are all friends! Especially if you are willing to open your purses to fund a worthycause. The vocational school for women is going to sponsor an additional fifty students for next year’s classes, and I’m sure the Magruders would love a chance to show their generosity.”
Caroline turned her attention to the couple behind them, and another thought hit Marianne. Would Luke be here?
There must be two hundred people already gathered. A dance floor had been set up on the lawn, and senators dressed as Dutch burghers mingled with women wearing elaborate collars. Tapestries covered tables weighed down with bowls of fruit, mimicking the still life paintings so popular during the high golden age of Dutch art. Hundreds of votive candles were scattered around the garden amidst the baronial splendor. On the far side of the park, guests lined up for rides on the river barge. A cluster of men smoking cigars gathered near a bar serving drinks, but she didn’t see Luke anywhere.
Disappointment tugged at her as she and Vera headed farther into the park. She both feared and longed for a chance to see Luke again. They’d only had a few weeks together, but knowing him had left a mark. He had changed her for the better. He inspired her to be less complacent and braver about taking risks.
Vera had insisted that they eat nothing before the gala. Her mother’s nineteen-inch waist didn’t allow room for anything so inconsequential as food, but Marianne was hungry, and the gala’s refreshments smelled divine. A table filled with miniature quiches was tempting, and she helped herself to a plate. She stood on the edge of the dance floor to eat, wondering if she knew anyone here. The clerical people she worked with at Interior weren’t the sort to attend a charity gala, and her parents’ friends weren’t her friends. She probably had more in common with the waiters and the musicians than the guests.
Her gaze trailed to the string quartet, and her heart nearly stopped.
There he was.
Luke sat with the musicians and plucked a lute held loosely inhis arms. His face was gripped with concentration as he studied the sheet music on the stand before him. How intent he looked! She hadn’t known he played an instrument, and somehow that made him even more appealing. The longing for him she’d been trying to suppress for months came roaring back to life.
Then she noticed his costume and smiled so wide it made her face hurt. He was dressed exactly like his sister in a musketeer uniform, complete with a tunic, white puffy sleeves, and a hat at a rakish angle.
As if sensing her presence, Luke glanced up and caught her gaze. His fingers froze as he gaped at her. The other musicians kept playing, but Luke had stopped. It felt like electricity flared between them, filling her with light and buoyancy. After a moment he simply set the lute on the ground, stood, and crossed over to her.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, his face suffused with happiness.
“Me either,” she said, barely able to draw a full breath. “Aren’t you needed with the musicians?”
He shook his head. “I was just filling in for a guy who got hungry. They’re probably better off without me.”
“I doubt that.” He made everything better just by being there. His optimism, his excitement.
They stood in the middle of the dance floor. The evening was young, and no one had started dancing yet, but plenty of people carried platters of food and glasses brimming with punch.
“Do you still have your job? The poison job?” she asked.
He nodded. “Do you still have yours?”
“Yes. They decided not to fire us after all. They said they need our pictures.”
“Good!” Then he stilled, his eyes taking on a hint of caution. “Is your father here?”
“No, he had a committee meeting he couldn’t miss.”
“Even better!” He took the plate of quiche from her andset it aside. “Let’s get out of here. There’s a place behind the service tent where we can be alone.”
“Yes.”
She ought to resist the temptation, but she couldn’t. Luke was already headed that way, and she followed. Why had they forced themselves to stay apart all this time? Everything about this felt right, and the grudge between their families was antiquated and foolish.
A few torches lit the way to the tent, where waiters hastily refilled trays of hors d’oeuvres. A tall hedge bordered the back, and Luke led her behind it, then turned to face her, grabbing her hands. He was trembling.
“I thought about you every day,” he said quietly.
“I thought of you too.” There was no point in denying it. No matter how hard she’d tried to corral her wayward thoughts, they inevitably drifted to Luke and what he was doing.
