President McKinley used his cigar to emphasize his demand. “I’d like your assurance that there will be no attempt to take advantage of Miss Delacroix’s affection for you.”

Nathaniel cleared his throat. “Of course not, sir.”

“Mrs. McKinley considers the young lady tantamount to a daughter. As such, we have a paternal interest in her well-being.”

“Of course, sir.” To brave the wrath of any father figure was bad enough, but to have it come from the president of the United States was an altogether different magnitude of mortification.

President McKinley smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good! I trust we won’t need to have this discussion again.”

Nathaniel didn’t breathe easy until he was in the sleeper car. He climbed the ladder to his upper berth and slid inside. It was a narrow mattress with only a cubby at the foot of the bed for his belongings. He lay sleepless for almost an hour before Sullivan arrived and tugged the curtain aside.

“What did the president say?” he whispered.

“To keep my hands off Caroline.”

“Ouch,” Sullivan said. “I guess you’d better do it, then. Orders are orders.”

Nathaniel nodded and jerked the curtain closed. It was going to be a long twelve weeks.

Twenty-Four

Caroline ought to have enjoyed the tour, for each day brought outings to colorful local attractions, the chance to mingle with enthusiastic crowds, and a rollicking crew of lively companions aboard the train. She stayed constantly by Mrs. McKinley’s side at each stop, helping carry the conversation when Ida could think of nothing to say and making their excuses when Ida wanted to return to the train early.

But Luke was always hovering in her thoughts. A letter from Gray reported that Luke had recovered from his battle with pneumonia but was still housed in the military hospital as a precaution. At their stop in Richmond, she gave thanks at the cathedral, falling to her knees in silent prayer, then impulsively deposited both her sapphire earrings into the collection box for the poor.

She also made certain that a copy of the photograph Rembrandt took of her standing on the steps of Monticello alongside the McKinleys was sent to Luke at the army hospital. Military personnel screened all the prisoners’ letters, but that was exactly how she wanted it. She wanted them to know Luke had powerful connections.

In her letter, she even included the fatherly warning President McKinley had given to Nathaniel when their flirtation was exposed. Gossip about the president’s warning had spread like wildfire through their party. It was an embarrassing way to start the tour, but perfect for letting the people guarding Luke know of her close ties to the president. If it bought an iota more care for Luke, it was worth it.