I shook my head. “Good night.”
He kissed my forehead. “Good night, my dear.”
As he walked up the stairs, I moved into the parlor to look through the front window. I had a perfect view of Rose Greenhow’s house, and almost every room was aglow with lights.
Anger and resentment burned in my gut. If Gray had not intended to come to my dinner party, then why had he made promises? For over a month now, he’d been making such promises, sending notes, convincing me he cared, when he was simply keeping me on a leash in case he needed me for his work.
I had told him I wasn’t to be trifled with, and I had meant it.
With determination born of disappointment, I walked into the hall and grabbed a shawl off the coat rack. I didn’t know how I would get an audience with him, but I would tell him what I thought of his game.
He’d played with my heart, but I would not let him win.
The first drops of rain began to fall as I walked alongside St. John’s Church, directly across the street from Rose’s house. Lightning flashed overhead, filling the sky with a brilliant burst of light, followed by a clap of thunder. I looked up at the sky, questioning my decision to venture out, though I was more determined than ever to tell Graydon Cooper what I thought of him.
A gust of wind whipped at my skirts, tugging them this way and that as I climbed the steps to Rose’s front door. The porch was empty, but I could see the silhouettes of people through the front window. What would I find? Would Rose’s butler answer, or would it be one of Pinkerton’s men? Mr. Cameron had said he was surprised how many people had visited Rose today, and all of them were probably questioned. Would they question me? Would I be linked to Rose’s spying?
It was too late to care as I knocked on the front door.
There was some shuffling inside, and then the door opened and a middle-aged man with a dark beard and hooded eyes stared at me. “May I help you?”
If I asked for Gray and he was being detained, would they even allow me to speak to him?
“Is Mr. Cooper here?” I was breathing heavily.
The man’s eyebrows lifted at my request, but then Gray was behind him, looking surprised at my arrival.
“Maggie, what are you doing here?”
“Do you know this woman?” the man asked Gray.
“Yes. This is Miss Margaret Wakefield, Senator Wakefield’s daughter. She lives just across the square.”
“Is she one of Mrs. Greenhow’s couriers?”
Gray shook his head, frowning, and then looked at me, a question in his gaze. “Are you?”
“No,” I said through a clenched jaw. I was so tired of being questioned by him.Hewas the one who should be answeringmyquestions.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I should be asking you the same—” I paused, not wanting to reveal the truth in front of this strange man, though I didn’t think I’d have a choice. “You said you were coming tonight.”
Gray briefly closed his eyes as regret played across his face. “I’m sorry, Maggie. So much has happened today. I—”
“Would you like to speak to Miss Wakefield in private?” the man asked, turning to Gray.
“I would, yes.” Gray stepped around him. “Call me if you need me, Pinkerton.”
“Will do.” The man—Mr. Pinkerton, apparently—moved farther into the house and out of sight.
Gray stepped through the open door and joined me on the porch. If he was on house arrest, why would Mr. Pinkerton allow him this freedom?
He closed the door behind him, and I had to back up toallow him space. The rain was coming down at a steady pace, blowing a cool mist on us as we stood under the covering of the porch. It hit my hot cheeks but did nothing to calm my anger. It was dark, though the light from the parlor window offered enough glow for me to see him clearly.
“I’m sorry, Maggie. I meant to send you a note of apology, but things happened so quickly today that I had no opportunity.”
I stared at him, confusion and anger warring with hurt. “How could you lie to me?”
