Circle of Spies (The Culper Ring #3)

Slade didn’t release her hand. No, he held it in his, opened her fingers, and this time pressed a kiss to her palm. “I’ll have that book back by tomorrow. Just in case.”


Right. The book from the cellar. Dev. The Knights. His only purpose here. “Good. And good night.”

“Lock the door behind me.” He released her fingers and moved to the exit. He cast only one glance at her over his shoulder before he disappeared through it.

Marietta felt as though she trudged through molasses as she followed his path. Leaning into the door, she slid the bolt into place and rested her throbbing head against the panel.

“Miss Mari? You all right?”

Cora’s voice was so quiet she couldn’t even drum up any alarm.

Marietta pushed herself upright with a sigh that tasted of resignation. “No. I’m a fool.” She slogged her way toward the main stairs, picking up the lamp on her way by. When she drew even with where Cora stood at the base of the staircase, she paused. “You didn’t need to get up, Cora.”

The young woman smiled. “I already was when I heard you pull in. Thought I’d see if I could get ya anything.”

“A new past would be appreciated.” She shook her head. “Sorry. No, I can manage. Go back to bed.”

“If you’re sure.” Cora’s smile had faded to worry. “Miss Mari?”

She stopped on the second step. “Yes?”

“You done the right thing there. Mr. Slade’s a fine man, but he ain’t from your world. You be savin’ yourself a passel o’ heartache by not gettin’ involved.”

Advice obvious to everyone. Barbara alone would disagree, and she could do so solely because of how exceptional Stephen had been, willing to marry for love above all.

But Marietta was no Stephen. They all knew that. She didn’t know the first thing about real, uncontainable love. She’d be doing everyone a favor by locking her shifting heart away forever.

“Thank you, Cora. Good night.” Feeling as though her whole body were made of aching, weeping lead, she forced herself up the stairs to her room.

Some triumphant debut this had been.





Twenty


Devereaux glanced out the window of his private rail car. The scenery displayed the final stretch into Baltimore, the familiar farms and towns getting closer together. He leaned back into his seat, welcoming the itch to be home. Work waited, both with the business and the Knights. It would be satisfying to report that he had found the perfect hiding place for his cache of Confederate supplies.

Even more satisfying would be his arrival at the house. The last time he had been gone for more than two days in November, his homecoming had been sweet indeed. He had barely made it through the door before Marietta had pulled him into the library and launched herself into his arms. The kiss she’d given him still fueled his dreams.

He hoped his promise to keep his distance until April wouldn’t dampen her passions any today. He needed to hold her, to see that longing for him in her eyes. And maybe, once she was hazy eyed from his kiss, he could convince her to shorten this half mourning, to forgive his promise altogether. Two more months. That would be cutting it close. He wanted to have the cache buried by then, and if they found a time to take Lincoln…

Surely he could convince her to marry him sooner.

He shook himself and slid his papers into a neat stack. He must be careful with these. He had needed to draw the map and write down the directions, but he wouldn’t keep the documents any longer than necessary. Only until he could come up with the right encryption for Mason to help him leave along the way. The blacksmith had proven himself a willing cohort, praise be to the Almighty. Moving the cache from a small railhead, over the Potomac, and to the cave would require horses, a cart, and two sets of hands.

But at least the cave had been all he remembered and more. As a boy, he hadn’t explored it deeply enough to find the small rear exit, but an escape route was always vital. The cave itself was the perfect size, and it was hard enough to find that he could be sure no one would stumble upon it after he and Mason rolled the boulder into place and armed the booby traps.

He slid the papers into his binder and the binder into his satchel. All in all a successful trip. Though he might not be welcome back at the Appalachian Inn on his next journey. His lips pulled up as he set the satchel on the table. He hadn’t meant to frighten Ruby, exactly, but after a week of exaggerated flirtation, what did the chit expect him to do?

It had only been a kiss—mostly. More to silence her than out of interest. If his hands had wandered roughly, it had only been to show her what she could expect from such behavior.

Given the tears in her eyes when she pulled away, she had learned her lesson.