“No. Nothin’ like that. Just made a nasty comment and told me to get back to work.” Though her lips said just, the eyes she turned up to him were misty. “Walker, I need you to promise me. If she marries him, if he takes over this house, we have to leave. Freed or not, I can’t stay here then. Or if his mama dies and I go to him—”
“Shh.” He buried his hand in her hair and held her close, close enough that he could feel his babe’s happy kick. “It won’t come to that. She won’t marry him.” Though it still made him sick to consider what she’d told him three days ago. Marietta was right. He wouldn’t let her go, not if he had such a claim on her. “And Miss Lucy is on the mend.”
She gripped his shirt. “Promise me, Walk.”
Looking down into her beautiful eyes, her precious face, he sighed. “I promise you, honey. You’ll never be his.” He pressed his lips to her forehead to seal the oath. “Now come rest. I bet you had a busy evening with Miss Barbara.”
“Busy on top of busy. But the good kind.” She pulled away and untied her apron, draping it over her chair while she reached for the cup of water he had waiting for her. “I still can’t believe Miss Mari brought her here.”
Walker turned to pull out the bread and meat he’d kept warm by the fire. “I really think you’re gonna see a different side of Yetta now.”
Cora sank down onto her chair with a weary exhale. “The side you used to be in love with? Don’t know that I want to see that.”
“Stop.” He slid the plate in front of her and took up his position behind, where he could rub her shoulders. “You know I love you more than I ever loved anyone. Except maybe Elsie, but that can hardly be compared.”
She let out a puff of laughter and tilted her head forward. “Miss Mari’s taken to thanking me these past couple of days. Every time I help her with something. It’s…”
“Encouraging? Refreshing?”
“Discombobulatin’.”
He laughed, quietly enough that he had no trouble hearing the tap on the door. His hands went still.
“Hez, you think?” Cora toyed with her bread.
He eased away. “Hope not. I kinda fancy an evenin’ at home with my best girl.”
“Your girl would like that too.”
A few steps took him to the door, but when he opened it and saw Slade Osborne on the other side, he had all he could do to keep his countenance clear.
Osborne, a dim outline in the moonlight, nodded. “Do you have a minute?”
In answer, Walker grabbed his coat from the peg and said, “Be just a second,” to his wife. Then he shut the door quietly behind him and indicated the stairs back down. “You need to arrange for a horse for tomorrow?”
Once back on solid ground, the detective turned on him with hands planted firmly on his hips. “What in blazes are you up to?”
“Pardon?”
Osborne stepped closer and raised a hand with one finger lifted. “You.” Another finger rose. “Thaddeus Lane.” A third. “Hezekiah Arnaud.”
Half a smile wormed its way to the surface. “Figured it out, did ya?”
“Not enough.”
Good. He shrugged. “Just three loyal Americans doing what they can, Mr. Osborne, when opportunity presents itself.”
Spinning away, Osborne muttered something unintelligible before pivoting back to him. “Look, Payne. My gut says we’re on the same side, and I’ve learned to trust it. But I can’t have you, some spoiled rich boy, and a doddering old man interfering with my plans. It’s too dangerous.”
Walker let out a low, laughing whistle. “Doddering? He could probably outrun you, even at eighty.”
“Really not the point here.”
“And Hez, he ain’t no spoiled rich boy. He’s a scholar, just like his great-granddad. A chemist.”
Osborne blinked, heavily. “Irrelevant.”
No, but Osborne didn’t really need to know about the nice little formulas Hez came up with to aid in their family business. Walker shrugged.
With a shake of his head, the man drew in a long breath. “Let me start again. You know what Hughes is about?”
Walker put his hands in his pockets to fend off the cold night air. “More or less.”
“Even ‘less’ ought to be enough. When he goes down, those around him could get hurt.” He leaned a little closer, and moonlight sparked in his eyes. “Tell Lane and his grandson to stop playing at being heroes. Focus on clearing the innocents out of the way—assuming there are any.”
Walker drew in a long, careful breath. “What are you afraid of, Osborne? That she’s gonna get hurt, or that she’s gonna do the hurting?”
Without another word, the detective strode away, shaking his head. It didn’t take long for the night to swallow him up. Walker took just a minute to let it all settle, to look at where he’d been. Then he turned and went back up to the warmth of his kitchen.