It was by far the pleasantest trip to work she’d ever had. Then they pulled in sight of the Senate office building and saw the clot of men outside it—at least twenty. They had the look of reporters.
“Oh no,” Peter said.“Nowwhat?”
When it turned out they were all there in hopes of additional comments about Garrett, she was almost relieved—almost but not quite. She’d nearly had a panic attack in the middle of the police press conference on Saturday. Now her chest tightened with guilt about the truth they were holding back and the fear that came with the memory of what actually had happened. She couldn’t have answered questions if she’d wanted to.
“We’re very grateful to the police for all their work, and we don’t want to harm their investigation by commenting,” Peter kept saying as he maneuvered them through the scrum.
As he finally got a hand on the door, one of the reporters called out, “Miss Harper! Is it true you led Wizard Garrett on to make Omnimancer Blackwell jealous so he would propose?”
“Oh, come on,” Peter bit out, glancing over his shoulder. “No one who knows Beatrix would give that any credence at all.”
Once they were inside and out of view of the doors, he murmured, “Are you all right?”
She managed a deeper breath and nodded.
“Should I stay a while?” he said.
“No, I’ll be OK.” She squeezed his hand. “See you at lunch.”
His grin returned. She felt a bit better. And when noon arrived, she was better still, because too-close-to-call Virginia had passed its typic-rights measure.
“No one’s waiting to ask us aboutthat, I see,” Peter said, as they walked out of the building to a sidewalk devoid of reporters.
“Hickok’s writing something. Gray did two or three interviews, I think.” She sighed. “I know, I know, there were three dozen reporters at the police press conference.”
His lips quirked. “Well, never mind—I’m in rather a hurry to get somewhere.”
She smiled at him. He started to laugh. “What?” he said. “What are you thinking with that mischievous look in your eyes?”
“Just wondering if kissing you right now is worth the chance that it will be headline news tomorrow,” she said.
“Absolutely worth it.”
“Rosemarie will be annoyed.”
“Rosemarie is always annoyed.”
Now she was laughing, too, so happy she felt weightless. “That’s not true. She’s no killjoy, you know, she’s just cautious.”
“I know. But my position still stands: Worth it.”
As they turned the corner onto an empty side street, she brushed her lips against his, just a second of contact that set off every nerve ending in her body.
They took a circuitous route to the courthouse, checking behind them as they went to ensure they weren’t followed. Peter tucked his hair under his coat and put on the hat that had worked so well at the jeweler’s.
“Are the Clarks coming?” he murmured as they slipped into the marriage-license line behind two other couples.
“Yes. What about the Reeds?”
“I decided I’d better not ask. It’ll be the middle of the dinner rush for them.”
She winced. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m sure there are people you’d like to invite but couldn’t.”
That was true. The Crofts—she trusted the mayor to keep the secret, but not his gossipy wife. Sweet old Mr. Freelow, who wasn’t really a gossip but simply could not keep a thought, once in his head, from coming out of his mouth.
Joan Hamilton, fellow League stalwart—but in that case, it wasn’t fear of the secret getting out that stopped her. Why would Joan want to come to the wedding of a woman who persuaded her to put herself in danger for a cause, then forced her to stop?
