He took the hand because propriety said he must and bowed over it, but he stopped shy of pressing his lips to her knuckles. She would call it bad manners—he called it survival instincts. “Good of you to have me.”
Hughes stepped to her side and cupped her elbow. The curl of his fingers looked like a shackle. “Allow me to make proper introductions. This is Slade Osborne of New York, a security agent trained by Allan Pinkerton. I’m considering hiring him, what with all the sabotage to the rails. Mr. Osborne, my sister-in-law, Marietta Arnaud Hughes.”
“Arnaud.” It took him a second, but likely only because of how distracting it was when she arched those fiery brows. “Any relation to Commodore Arnaud of the USS Marguerite?”
Her smile went warm. “My father.”
Her father was one of the Union’s most vital naval commanders? He didn’t dare look at Hughes, but he had to wonder. Did that fact gall him, he with his Confederate sympathies? Or was it, in fact, a mark in her favor?
He supposed he would find out if he did his job well.
Another man may have commented on Commodore Arnaud’s legendary bravery. But because she obviously knew the stories better than he, Slade simply nodded again. And, when she motioned to his right, turned.
“Do make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen. I just need to check in with Tandy in the kitchen.”
His gaze snagged on Hughes’s, and his host jerked his head toward that room to the right—a library—while he pulled Mrs. Hughes to the left. “You get settled, Osborne. I need a word with our hostess.”
Seeing no reason to argue, Slade strode into the library, taking in the fine furniture with a slow turn and sweeping glance…which made its way back to the hallway just as Hughes pulled the lady close, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her like there was no tomorrow.
Subtle. With a snort, Slade turned away. About as subtle as Ross’s sledgehammer.
Three
How Marietta wished the boning in her corset would allow her spine to sag. She perched upon the edge of the settee and willed the evening to be over. Her head pounded, her neck ached. All she wanted was to shut herself in her room, curl up on her bed, and try to convince the questions to stop whirling. The doubts to stop nagging. Her heart to stop twisting.
It was all too much for one day. Far, far too much. Each new fact hovered before her gaze, images forever scored into her mind. What would it be like to forget? Perhaps if she could get lost in a book…or fall into the oblivion of sleep…
But Dev and Mr. Osborne had come in right behind her after dinner, eliminating all chances of escape. Though rather than sit, Dev just flashed that charming smile. Her stomach knotted, but not quite like it had this morning, before Granddad had dumped the wretched questions upon her. He was wrong. Mistaken. Dev could have no part of any dark secrets.
Yet Thaddeus Lane had never been mistaken about anything so important, not in her recollection. And he never would have come to her about it unless he had been entirely certain.
Which facts, then, to believe?
Dev’s eyes looked as soft as ever when he gazed at her. The love and desire still gleamed. Just as Lucien’s always had. How could they both pretend to be one sort of man in her company, and then crawl underground like a serpent and plot destruction?
Well. She squared her shoulders and made herself smile. She would discover the truth somehow. And if he had lied to her for four years, then she would return the favor. Convince him she was the same woman she’d always been, even if she hadn’t a clue who she might be when she shut her eyes tonight. Was she Dev’s love, or a…a Culper?
“I had better go sit with Mother for a while.” Dev smiled at her and then glanced at Mr. Osborne. “I trust you can entertain our guest for a few minutes, darling?”
“Of course.” She kept her smile neutral, though her chest tightened as he left the room. They all knew their guest had witnessed that kiss an hour and a half earlier, but she could hardly pull away and slap Dev the way she had wanted to do. Not when she had welcomed his kiss too often this past year. If Granddad was right, she had best obey his insistence that Dev remain oblivious to her knowledge of his loyalties. And if she could prove him wrong, then why take it out on Dev?
Though she had hissed at him about making such a move in plain view of the man across the hall.
Over dinner, she had paid their guest no more attention than she would any other guest. Hadn’t looked at him overlong, hadn’t let herself wonder.