“Good morning,” Gray responded. “Is Miss Wakefield receiving callers?”
Gray had come out in the rain to see me? To him, it was less than twenty-four hours since we stood on Rose’s porch. Had he come to call on me so soon? It was odd to come early in the morning. Perhaps something was wrong.
I left the dining room, running a hand over my hair, conscious that I probably looked frightful. My face was still puffy and my eyes were red, but I couldn’t risk Gray leaving.
Joseph’s back was toward me as I entered the foyer. “Miss Margaret isn’t recei—”
“I’m here, Joseph,” I said, walking up behind him.
Gray stood on our front stoop, looking handsome in his tailored suitcoat, his hat in his hand. His dark eyes glowed withpleasure at the sight of me, but within a heartbeat, I could tell he knew something was wrong.
“Good morning,” he said, his brows dipping. “May I come in?”
“Yes, please.” I tried to smile, but it was almost impossible. “Thank you, Joseph. That will be all.”
Joseph nodded and left the foyer as Gray entered.
I closed the door behind him, thankful that Joseph had set a fire in the hearth earlier that morning. The air was cool and wet. “Come into the parlor and warm yourself.”
Gray did not move from the foyer, concern darkening his eyes. “What’s wrong, Maggie?”
“I’m not feeling well this morning.”
“Has your father been home to tell you the news? Is that it?”
“News? What news?”
Gray frowned. “He hasn’t told you yet?”
“I haven’t spoken to Papa since last night. Is something wrong?”
“I’m sorry for speaking. It’s not my news to tell. I just thought, with the way you look, that you’d heard something upsetting. I assumed—” He paused, clearly disappointed with himself. “Again, I’m sorry.”
“You cannot leave me in suspense. What hasn’t Papa told me?” I didn’t think I could bear more bad news, but I also couldn’t live in a state of not knowing.
Gray set his hat and gloves on the hall table and then came closer to me. He laid gentle hands on my arms. “If your father has not spoken to you, then what has you so upset? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. It’s clear something has devastated you.”
The tears started again, and I leaned into his embrace. Gray wrapped his arms around me, cradling me. It was the first time he had held me since Bull Run. He was warm and strong, and he smelled of soap. He didn’t ask any more questions or hurry me, but allowed me to weep. I knew I could not explain myself, but Ialso knew that I needed someone else’s strength and comfort—his comfort.
Slowly, my tears subsided, and he gently handed me a clean handkerchief, then led me into the parlor and drew me onto the sofa with him. His touch anchored me to the moment—to him—offering immeasurable reassurance.
“Can you tell me what’s happened?” he asked quietly.
I shook my head. “I’m afraid I cannot.”
He was silent for a moment. “Does this have something to do with your double life?”
I looked up at him sharply to see if he was goading or teasing me, but he was not. Apparently, he had concluded that Iwasleading a double life, but did he have any idea the extent of it?
“My d-double life?” I asked.
“I know that things are not as they seem, Maggie. It’s my job to look for signs and clues, and it’s evident you are leading two very different lives. You are your father’s daughter and hostess, but you must also be working as a doctor or, at the very least, a nurse somewhere else. Am I wrong?”
I swallowed hard and shook my head, wanting so desperately for him to know, to understand, at least in part. “You are not wrong.”
“You don’t need to tell me anything else,” he said cautiously, “but if you’d like to tell me, I can assure you that your secrets are safe with me.”
“I wish I could tell you,” I whispered and clung to the handkerchief he had given me as his arm settled around my waist, holding me steady.
