“You’re quieter than usual tonight,” I said to Gray.
“I apologize.” He touched my hand, which lay over his forearm, causing me to step closer to him. He made me feel safe and protected as we walked along the dark streets. “I received a letter from home today, telling me that my mother is ill.”
“I’m sorry.”
He had not spoken much about his family, though I recalled he was raised at his mother’s ancestral home with his cousins and had been in line to inherit his uncle’s title until his aunt produced a son.
“My uncle wrote to me,” Gray continued, “which surprised me, since he said he never wanted to speak to me again.”
I frowned. “Whyever not?”
He was quiet for a moment, then let out a sigh. “I’ve told you that my gift of uncovering the truth is both a blessing and a curse, and that when I uncover the truth, it often reveals unpleasant secrets.”
I nodded.
“One of the first discoveries I made was soon after my cousin James was born—my uncle’s heir.” He paused as if collecting his thoughts. “All my life, I noticed things about my female cousins. Their unique green eyes, though both my aunt and uncle had brown eyes. Their red hair, though no one else in our family had red hair. There were other things—subtle things—so when James was also born with green eyes and red hair, I started to investigate. What I discovered is that my aunt had been having a longstanding liaison with the gardener. When I brought it to my uncle’s attention, thinking he would praise me for discovering the truth and reinstate me as his heir, he turned hiswrath on me instead, banishing me from his home. I realized he had known of the affair for years, but as long as she could provide a male heir, he overlooked her indiscretions.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I was sent to America,” he continued, “without connections or money, and was left to my own devices. My mother did not stop him. I decided to head west and took any job I could find to get from one city to the next, until I reached Chicago and met Allan Pinkerton.”
“And now your mother is ill,” I said. “Will you return to England to see her?”
He shook his head. “I knew when I left that I would never see her again, and I made peace with that. I wrote to her, and I pray the letter will arrive in time.”
“I’m sorry, Gray. Nothing can prepare us for the heartache, no matter how long it’s been since we’ve seen them.”
He drew me closer as we continued to walk, each of us in our own thoughts. Lights glowed from several buildings around us, and soon the Willard Hotel was just ahead. People came and went, but where we stood on E Street, we were alone, cast in shadows.
Gray stopped walking and looked down at me, studying my face in the dim light, slowly putting space between us. “Maggie, this gift I have—I notice things and then put all the pieces together until they fit and make sense.”
I waited, unsure if he was still speaking of his uncle or something else.
“If a piece doesn’t fit,” he continued, “I rearrange it, thinking of all the possibilities. Sometimes one piece doesn’t fit until another locks into place first.” He stood in front of me, his hands at his side. “I have been collecting the pieces of your puzzle for months, trying to make sense of the things I’ve seen you do, the knowledge you have, the lack of knowledge your father has, the devastation you experienced a month ago, thelittle things you’ve said when you haven’t been paying close attention. Your behaviors and turn of phrase.”
My heart started to pound.
“I know you’re living a double life,” he said, studying me closely, gauging my reaction. “You admitted it yourself. But I don’t think it’s the kind of double life most people lead.”
“Gray—”
“I don’t believe you leave your father’s house to lead this second life. I don’t think you go anywhere.”
I couldn’t breathe and reached out to touch his arm, to somehow stop him.
But he wasn’t finished. “You might think I’ve lost my mind for saying this, you might laugh, but I’ve tried to think of every option, imagine every possibility, and I can come to only one conclusion.”
My chest rose and fell on long, shallow breaths, and I pulled my hand back.
“I can’t even believe I’m saying this.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but do you—or have you ever—”
He paused, and I held my breath.
“Have you ever lived in another time, Maggie? A future time?”
My lips parted, and I could only stare at him. How had he guessed? Not even my parents in 2001 or my papa in 1861 had uncovered the truth. How had Gray?
His face went from uncertainty to shock. He took a step back, staring at me as if I were a ghost or unearthly being. “I can see I’m right. It’s written all over your face.”
