“I love you too,” she said. There was no point in denying it. It would probably go nowhere because they both had families to consider and nothing would be easy, but she’d never felt such a sense of belonging with anyone before. What an irony that the undiluted love and affection she’d craved all her life should finally come from a Delacroix.
On the opposite side of the window seat, Luke simply gazed at her in tired, happy exhaustion. Over the next few hours, they drifted in and out of sleep. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they checked on the others.
The first hint of dawn finally arrived, but Marianne remained with Luke on the window seat, knowing they only had a few more minutes together. The steps of the cook and Nurse Hollister sounded on the front porch as the morning began.
“You survived the night,” she said with a tired smile.
Luke winced as he rose from the window seat, holding firm to the side of the wall. “Still dizzy, but my head doesn’t ache as much.”
Some of the others also suffered lingering effects, but mostwere able to climb the stairs. Luke remained with a hand braced on the wall.
“I was supposed to drive Caroline to meet with the minister this morning,” he said. “I don’t think I can go. The thought of driving over cobblestones is enough to start my head aching again. Our home doesn’t have a telephone, but maybe I can get Big Rollins to deliver a message.”
“I’ll go,” she said. It would give her a chance to meet Luke’s sister and possibly take the first tentative steps toward some sort of détente between their families.
The town house where the Delacroixs lived was a shock. Marianne double-checked the address Luke had written on a slip of paper, because the modest three-story home simply wasn’t what she expected. The Delacroixs were old money. She expected to see something like Versailles with gold trim or a castle like the Vanderbilts’ home.
Instead she stood before a brick town house that looked like it had been there since before the revolution. It had the simple colonial lines of strength and solidity, but nothing ornate or lavish.
She took a steadying breath, mounted the staircase, and knocked on the front door.
A feminine voice called out from inside, “I’ll be right there, Luke!” The patter of feet sounded just before the door yanked open. Caroline’s face fell. “Oh, my apologies. Who are you?”
“I’m Marianne Magruder. We met briefly at the gala.”
Caroline masked her surprise with a gracious smile. “How silly of me,” she said and held the door open wide. “Come inside. I’ve been dying to get better acquainted with you. Luke is supposed to meet me for some wedding preparations.”
Old floorboards creaked as Marianne stepped inside. She liked the scent of lemon wax in the front hall. “Luke asked meto tell you he can’t be here today. He had a difficult night. All the men on the Poison Squad did.”
Caroline caught her breath, then a door in the hallway jerked open and Gray Delacroix stood there, his face grim. “What happened?” he demanded.
Marianne took a step back. The foyer suddenly felt too small, given the way Gray towered over her in suspicious disapproval. She clutched her reticule, terribly aware of the slip of paper with the chemical equations of exactly what had caused Luke’s illness. This was possibly the last topic she wished to discuss with these two people, but they were rightfully concerned about Luke.
“Some of the men had a bad reaction to the food. A doctor has seen them, and all are on the mend. It may take a few days for them to get over the dizziness and a bit of a headache.”
“A bit of a headache?” Gray snapped. “Explain.”
“I’m not a medical doctor. He’s got a headache. I don’t know how to be any more plain than that.”
Gray strode to the front door and yanked a jacket off a hook. “I’m going over there.”
“I think you’ll find him sleeping,” Marianne said.
Indecision caused Gray to pause, but Caroline was better at disguising her feelings. “Don’t be difficult, Gray. Let’s invite Marianne inside for a cup of tea. I’ll send the minister a note to reschedule. We should get to know each other.”
Gray’s expression softened a fraction. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said to Marianne. “Your grandfather just filed another lawsuit against me.”
Lawsuits were Jedidiah’s preferred method of communication. He was crafty and tough but not skilled with words and preferred to let his lawyers do his public fighting. This latest court action was over an outrageous stunt Luke and Gray had engineered last year that slandered how the Magruders made applesauce.
“I know,” she replied. “Why don’t you just say you’re sorry?”
“Because I’m not.”
“Why do you hate my grandfather so much?” Marianne asked. “Because he came from humble stock? Because his accent isn’t refined like yours?”
“Because he takes shortcuts,” Gray said. “Look, this conversation isn’t going to be helpful. I’m sure you are a very fine—”
“Gray,” Caroline interrupted. “Do you remember what I relayed to you about Luke’s newest fascination?”
