The Prince of Spies (Hope and Glory #3) - Elizabeth Camden Page 0,80

He loved it. What a blessing that after years of struggling to find a meaningful purpose in this world, he’d found it right here in his hometown.

Then Caroline and Nathaniel came outside, and attention shifted to them as a photographer set up his tripod to take a special photograph Caroline requested. During her time at the White House, she shared a dormitory with nine other women who worked in the building. Two cooks, two telephone operators, three maids, a seamstress, and a laundress. Today they were all respectably dressed, but their work-roughened hands gave them away.

One of the older women seemed reluctant to join the others for the photograph. “We’re not the sort for a posed photograph,” she said.

“Nonsense!” Caroline exclaimed. “You nine ladies are the only sisters I ever had.”

The older woman beamed in reply and fell into place. Soon the women left, and Nathaniel posed with a group of Secret Service officers for their photograph with the bride. Jokes flew as the former White House colleagues reunited for the first time in almost a year.

A group of army officers, including Colonel Phelps, stood only a few feet away. Old instincts kicked in, and Luke immediately started eavesdropping. Often people felt compelled to jabber when they were anxious, but Luke had always found one could learn far more by simply listening. He held the glass of flat champagne in his hand, pretending to enjoy the view but privately scrutinizing Colonel Phelps.

The officers were speculating about additional army encampments moving out west, and if there was any room for promotion by accepting postings that far out of the limelight.

“If a rebellion in the Indian territories happens, it will come quickly,” Colonel Phelps said. “Things may appear calm at the moment, but the promotions will go to the men out in the field, not the staff officers in Washington.”

Personally, Luke would like nothing better than to have Colonel Phelps transferred out west. Perhaps Hawaii.

Soon the conversation shifted to the quality of the crab salad and the bacon-wrapped filet mignon. Luke’s stomach growled, but he had fended off worse hunger pains than this, and he was curious to hear Colonel Phelps’s opinion of Caroline’s gourmet selections. If Colonel Phelps aspired to an alliance with the Magruder family, he would have to become a fan of potted ham and chicken spread.

Sadly, Colonel Phelps said nothing disparaging about the food. He comported himself like a perfect gentleman for the entire ten minutes Luke eavesdropped.

Until the colonel slipped and made a derogatory comment about Nathaniel. “I don’t personally know the man, but a Delacroix marrying a civil servant is a bit of a step down, isn’t it?”

Luke didn’t wait to hear the reply. He pushed away from the wall and approached the group of officers. “That ‘civil servant’ is my brother-in-law,” he said coolly.

Colonel Phelps blanched and took a step back. “My apologies,” he said. “I had no idea any family members were in the vicinity.”

“Obviously.” Luke’s gaze flicked to Colonel Phelps’s collection of medals and the epaulets on his shoulders. “Nathaniel Trask doesn’t have medals or a fancy title to prove his heroism. He has worked quietly behind the scenes for years, but he’s the reason the paycheck you draw each month isn’t rendered worthless by an ocean of counterfeit. He is the kind of man that keeps the heartbeat of America strong, and I am proud to call him my brother.”

He hadn’t bothered to lower his voice, and several people were surreptitiously watching him. He didn’t care. He wasn’t going to stand aside and let Caroline’s husband be insulted at his own wedding.

“My apologies,” Colonel Phelps said. “I’ve heard nothing but fine things about Agent Trask.”

Luke nodded his head in concession. “Myself as well.”

He turned away, rubbing his chest and wondering at the strange ache he felt. He was lonely. Marianne should be here. He was proud of her and didn’t want to sneak behind her parents’ backs any longer. He was ready to venture into the world with the woman he loved beside him, but he feared Marianne might never be able to cross that bridge.

Marianne waited for Luke on a bench in the arboretum. The moon was bright enough that she could show him the pictures she developed that morning. The ones they’d taken of each other in the treetops were dazzling, probably because they looked so happy.

“For you,” she said as she handed him the box of photographs. “Two for you, and two for me. They aren’t fully dry, so