And, apparently, clandestinely working to keep the country united. Though that one seemed to be giving them a few headaches just now.
Needing a respite from the emotions saturating the parlor, Marietta wandered out into the familiar hall of the Lane home, past all the paintings her grandmother had hung upon the walls. Generations of family, places they had visited aboard the Masquerade, the wilds they had seen through fifty years of marriage.
Fifty years. She paused just inside the drawing room and stared at what she knew was the first painting Grandmama had done for Granddad Thad, before they married. Granddad’s ship, with him at the helm.
Her fingers stroked over the lavender of her day dress. Perhaps she would soon be out of mourning, but no fifty years of marriage waited in her future. No husband who would know her every thought just by looking into her eyes. Who would love her, despite her every failing.
No one who would ever love her above all else save the Lord.
A familiar arm slid around her waist, and Grandmama Gwyn leaned into her. “You did a wonderful thing, my precious girl, bringing her here.”
“I was due for a wonderful thing, I suppose.” She turned to smile at her grandmother, but it froze on her lips when she caught sight of the canvas half-covered in paint. He had no shoulder yet, no waist, the fireplace behind him was but a sketch. But the face was all but finished, and far too startling in this room. “Grandmama, when did you see Slade Osborne?”
“Oh.” Undisturbed by her alarm, her grandmother turned toward the painting and tilted her head to one side. “Your grandfather brought him home one night, briefly. Must be nearly two weeks ago now. He apparently caught Thad and Hez and Walker trying to…interrupt one of Dev’s shipments.”
Marietta could only stare. At the painting, and at the woman who delivered that news so calmly. Calmly! As if it were all old hat to her.
Maybe it was, given those fifty years with Thaddeus Lane.
But still. “He caught…Granddad was…Grandmama! He is eighty years old! He has no business prowling around in the middle of the night with his grandson.” And would she ever give her brother an earful when she next saw him…
But her grandmother laughed, light and free. “He chafes so against being always at a desk that I haven’t the heart to remind him of his decades.” She patted Marietta’s waist and pulled her closer to the painting. “The risk was small, as risks go. He knew well he could bypass what security Devereaux might post, as he has done often enough before. Though he had not counted on young Mr. Osborne.”
It all swirled too quickly for her to make sense of it. “You know.”
“About the Ring? I have known since the last war, when my uncle was its greatest enemy.”
And now Marietta’s would-be betrothed took that role. A thought she wished she could forget. “What did he tell Slade?”
“Slade, is it?” Her grandmother lifted a brow, her blue-green eyes twinkling. “Not much. He was feeling rather mysterious that night, apparently, and said his name was ‘Mister.’ He instructed me in signs not to use names. Though Mr. Osborne will figure it out soon, I imagine. Who we are, if not our roles.”
Marietta had no response to that.
Grandmama apparently didn’t need one. She studied her painting again with a smile. “I daresay it’s no hardship to see that face at your table every night, hmm?”
That at least teased a laugh from Marietta’s throat, which in turn eased the discomfort balled up in her chest. What in the world was Granddad doing, after making it clear Slade should not know about the Culpers? She had helped him overtly, yes, but he would think it nothing but a returned favor. Her grandfather, though…
Well, there was no arguing with him. Especially once a thing was already done.
“I wanted to give you something.” Her grandmother withdrew her arm from Marietta’s waist and reached up for the gold necklace clasped, as always, around her neck.
“Grandmama, no.” Marietta stepped back, hands up. She couldn’t remember a time the three pearls had not hung around her grandmother’s neck. And much as she might treasure the gift, there were others more deserving. “I cannot take the necklace Granddad gave you on your wedding day.”
“Of course you can.” She fumbled with the clasp a moment before undoing it. “It is part of the Culper legacy. And you are the first woman to be involved in it since me. Therefore…” She reached around Marietta and fastened it, a smile upon her face. “Perfect.”
Marietta rested her fingertips on the warm, iridescent spheres. “There is so much to live up to.”
“And if anyone can do it, it is you.” Grandmama rested her hand against Marietta’s cheek, her eyes as deep as the Caribbean waters. “You are our miracle, Marietta. Endowed with a gift beyond what any of us could have dreamed possible.”