He spun at her voice. “Too long ago to remember much.”
“Then a revisit should suit you.” She moved toward him in that way she had—smooth, graceful, but not like some of the other women he’d seen, who could balance books upon their head. Her grace was more…liquid. Feline, to match her eyes. She halted a foot shy of her skirt brushing him. “You could have kept it.”
Then she could have told him so at the time. He shrugged, tilted his head, and focused his gaze on those pearls. “Nice necklace. New?”
“Old. Very old.” Her eyes lit with a mischievous smile as she touched the gems. “My grandmother just gave it to me. It has been in our family since the days of the Revolution.”
“Your grandmother.” Gwyneth Lane then, as her other grandmother lived somewhere in New England. Which meant that “Mister” was Thaddeus Lane. He should have known. Merchant, soldier, father-in-law of Commodore Jack Arnaud, and, from what he had gathered when researching Marietta’s family, loved by most everyone he knew—and he knew everyone.
Somehow, having the name didn’t answer any of his questions.
“Keep it.” She nodded toward the hand that still held the key.
Because she looked ready to pivot and leave, he moved. And wished he hadn’t when his fingers enclosed her wrist and awareness hit like lightning. The way she paused, he wondered at first if she felt it too.
But no, it no doubt just reminded her of the way Hughes had grabbed her minutes earlier. She looked from his hand to his eyes, her gaze going hard.
Still, he didn’t let go. Not yet. “Marietta.” He tried to keep his tone even. He failed. It came out quiet and strained. “Be careful. This is no game.”
“One might turn that warning right around on you.” Her voice matched his. Then her eyes thawed, and the mischief returned to them. “You ought to pay my grandparents another visit, Slade. Grandmama has begun a very nice painting of you.”
“Of me?” His hand fell away from her wrist. In part because she obviously knew about his midnight visit there if she saw such a thing. In part because of the painting itself. “She barely saw me.”
Her lips turned up to match her eyes. “A glimpse is all she ever requires.” She took a step toward the door. “Do put that item somewhere safe, won’t you?”
He slid it into his pocket, the safest place he had at the moment. “Aren’t you curious?”
She paused again and lifted her brows.
He had to appreciate a woman who could speak without words. “About what’s in there.”
Tilting her head, she smiled again. “You’re assuming I didn’t look.”
True. But surely if she had, she wouldn’t sit idly back. Would she? “Did you?”
“Briefly.” She turned to the door again.
“Briefly.” What did that mean? What had she seen? Enough to know that she made her bed in a den of Copperheads, or just enough to know she didn’t want to look any further?
Halfway to the door, she glanced at him over her shoulder. Her smile still lingered, but the mischief had abandoned it. “That’s all I require, Slade. Just a glimpse.”
Fourteen
Walker looked up at the sound of footsteps on the outside stairs. He put a stray ribbon in the book of signs to mark his place, which was still woefully near the beginning. He tried to learn on his own, but it made little sense until someone showed it to him. With Barbara’s arrival that afternoon, there had been no time for another lesson, so…
He darted a glance at the little cot where Elsie slept, a chubby arm curled around her rag doll. An image to make him smile. And the smile just kept on going when the door opened and Cora stepped in with a gust of cold air. He pushed himself up to greet her properly.
She returned his smile and his kiss, and nestled into his arms…but tension rode her shoulders and knotted her back, more than it had any other night since Marietta insisted on her resting every day. “Something wrong, honey?”
Cora gave him a squeeze and pressed her face to his chest. “No. Not really.” But she held him tighter still. “I ran into Mr. Dev today is all, and it shook me up some. I had Elsie with me.”
His breath eased out. They both knew it was unavoidable, but they had done all they could to keep their girl away from him. Keep her out here, far from the places he usually went. But Elsie wouldn’t long be contained to their rooms as she grew. “Did he touch you? If he touched you, I swear I’ll—”