“Sorry about that in there,” he said. The excuses he’d toyed with to explain his behavior all seemed foolish now, so he simply told the truth. “Enclosed spaces are still tough for me.”
She headed toward a bench farther down the sidewalk. “That’s okay.”
He joined her on the bench, setting her crate of supplies on the walkway. A peek inside showed several rolls of undeveloped film and boxes of celluloid paper.
“It looks like you didn’t get your work finished,” he said.
“Only about halfway. Six rolls of film were too ambitious to tackle in an hour.”
And she’d been counting on his help to get it done. If he hadn’t bolted out of there like a weakling, they could have finished the job. “I’m sorry for letting you down,” he said. “As mortifying as this is, I’m glad I don’t have to pretend with you.”
She squeezed his hand. “It’s no bother, Luke. I know today didn’t go so well, but I need to get the rest of the film developed. I’ve reserved some time tomorrow morning, if you’d like to try again.”
He shook his head. “Tomorrow is Caroline’s wedding. She will hang, draw, and quarter me if I’m late.”
“How silly of me!” Marianne said. “I knew it was coming, but I’d forgotten it was tomorrow. Tell me about it.” She looked properly enthused. There must be something about weddings that spoke to the female soul.
He began to describe it to her. Five hundred guests were expected, including all manner of politicians and industrialists. The reception would probably echo through the ages. “President Roosevelt was called to Boston, so he won’t be attending, but every other high-ranking official and officer in the city will be there.”
“Including Colonel Phelps,” Marianne said, a hint of unease in her voice.
The name was familiar. Colonel Phelps was one of those officers who’d vaulted to prominence during the Spanish-American War, and he was a trusted advisor to the president.
“Why do you bring him up?” Luke asked carefully.
“My father is very keen on Colonel Phelps,” she replied, watching a pigeon wrestle with a crust of pretzel. “He’s been invited to our house for dinner on Sunday.”
Clyde Magruder didn’t do anything lightly. If Colonel Phelps was invited to dinner, Clyde had a reason. Luke cut straight to the chase. “Colonel Phelps seems like the kind of man your father would like for a son-in-law.”
Marianne looked almost relieved that he had said it, rather than owning it herself. “There’s no doubt that is what he’d like.”
“And you?” Luke held his breath. He and Marianne hadn’t made any vows to each other, and she was free to court a more suitable man if she wished.
She snorted. “You have no competition from Colonel Phelps. He’s so stiff and formal, I think he’s got laundry starch running through his veins.”
Unpleasant thoughts took shape in Luke’s mind. Maybe she wasn’t taken with Colonel Phelps, but her status-hungry parents were going to pressure her to reconsider. Marianne continued talking, recounting a handful of encounters she’d had with the colonel over the past few months. Jealousy flared. It didn’t matter that Marianne didn’t care for Colonel Phelps. Luke didn’t like the prospect of anyone else courting her.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him before?” he asked.
“Because he isnothingto me, but I felt dishonest letting it continue without telling you. He’s invited to our home on Sunday for dinner. Andrew and Delia will be here to watch my father’s speech on the House floor. Papa thought it would be a good chance for Colonel Phelps to meet the rest of the family.”
Luke’s jaw tightened. “And what do you think?”
“I think I’m sorry I told you,” she said. “I don’t want to add to your burdens. You’ve already got so much on your shoulders with the Poison Squad and theDon Quixotetranslation. And now your sister’s wedding. Everyone is supposed to be deliriously happy at a wedding, but I know tomorrow won’t be a day of undiluted joy for you.”
His heart turned over. How easily she could read him, andeven this low, selfish part of him didn’t seem to repulse her. “I’m such a lousy rat for feeling that way.”
“Tell me what I can do to make these next few days easier for you.”
The open-ended offer triggered an avalanche of wild dreams. Run away to California with him, go dancing under the moonlight, drink wine straight from the bottle. He lowered his request into the realm of something a little scandalous but not too difficult.
“Meet me at the arboretum tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. The wedding festivities will be over, and we can steal a few hours together. Can you get away?”
“I can,” she agreed with a reassuring smile.
“Thanks.”
It was such a puny word for his boundless gratitude. He needed her company more than she could know, for Caroline’s wedding was going to be tough. He was hanging on by a thread, but knowing Marianne would be waiting for him at the end of the day was a talisman that would make it worthwhile.
