No hardship on his part, he admitted. She was no Marietta, but if the promise of having his Helen of Troy forever hadn’t been so close at hand, he might have indulged a bit more to stave off the hunger. With more care, of course.
But Helen was at hand, more beautiful than any mythical goddess, and she was all his. He let that thought warm him through the last few minutes of the ride, and it put a bounce in his step as he debarked at one station and hired a carriage to deliver him to the next. His private car would be pulled through the city to await his next pleasure.
When he got down again outside his offices, he spotted Osborne within seconds, talking to one of the guards Devereaux kept on the payroll. He approached the two with long strides.
Osborne looked up as he neared and greeted him with a nod. “Welcome home, Hughes.” The underling moved off, and Osborne held out a hand. He winced when Devereaux gripped it.
“Problem?”
Osborne rolled his eyes and rubbed the hand. “Yeah, with your soon-to-be brothers-in-law. One or the other of them must have bruised something. Or broken it,” he added in a surly mumble.
Devereaux lifted his brows. “The Arnauds? What, were you fighting with them?”
Osborne snorted and motioned him to lead the way inside, obviously knowing his habits well. “Shaking their hands. They didn’t take too kindly to their grandfather manipulating me into joining the family at the theater last week.”
Chuckling, Devereaux hurried toward his office, trusting Osborne to follow. The fellow even thought to close the door behind him. “He’s an eccentric sometimes. Why did he insist you come?”
Osborne folded his arms, clearly resentful. “Made me feel that it was my duty to make sure Marietta got there and back safely. Though—”
“Wait.” He dropped his bag upon the desk and turned. Slowly, with deliberation. “Mari went to the theater while I was gone?”
Osborne shrugged. “She made an appearance, though I had to bring her and Barbara Arnaud home early. Headache.”
The anger, quick to flare, was quickly banked. Thad Lane forced his family wherever he willed, and even Mari didn’t often withstand him. But it sounded as though she had done what she could to escape.
Still. They’d had an understanding that when she reentered society, it would be with him. That was why they had planned… “Blast it.” He swept his hat off and tossed it to his desk. “Was she angry with me over canceling our engagement at the Ellicotts?” She hadn’t seemed too terribly put out, but she was a woman, after all. They let things fester.
Osborne blinked. “How would I know?”
“She could have said something.” Though to Osborne? Unlikely. He gusted out a breath and picked up the stack of post that arrived in his absence. “Never mind. Though I still fail to see why her brothers punished you for being forced to go.”
He looked up in time to see the roll of Osborne’s black eyes. “Her grandfather introduced me as her ‘friend.’ I think they got the wrong idea.”
The flame licked higher again. “And how many other people heard him say that?”
It was small consolation that the other man looked as put out as Devereaux felt. “At least one too many.” He sank into one of the chairs in front of the desk and hooked an ankle over a knee. “I don’t know how you tolerate this society nonsense.”
Devereaux muttered a curse and slapped an envelope down harder than necessary. “Gossip?”
A snort was his only answer.
He cursed again and flipped quickly through the rest of the post. “Do you have any good news?”
“No trouble at the rails while you were gone.”
Devereaux ran his hand over his hair. “That is good, though not exactly news. Anything from the brothers?”
“Yeah. I talked to my friend.”
Devereaux looked over, but Osborne’s expression said no good came of that. “No weaknesses before the inauguration. But Booth and Surratt got wind of a possible review Lincoln will make of the troops a few days afterward, and we all know he’s never highly guarded at those.”
Devereaux let that roll over in his mind a few times while he sorted the mail into stacks according to importance. At length he nodded. “It’s worth pursuing.” He shuffled the important correspondence into a neat stack and slid it into his bag. “But for now, home.”
At the motion of his hand, Osborne got up and followed him out. All in all, the Yankee made a decent henchman. His only questions were intelligent ones, he followed orders, showed initiative, and knew how to stay out of the way. When all of this was over, Devereaux might have a permanent position for him. He couldn’t imagine Osborne would want to remain in Pinkerton’s service once he didn’t need that cover story anymore.