He kept talking, but all she heard was “eleven months.” Eleven months. That meant he could spend almost an entire year in Milwaukee! But why should that surprise her? When she met him he had just come off a five-month assignment in Boston working on the counterfeit stamp operation. The nature of his job would always keep him on the move, for counterfeiters could spring up anywhere in the nation. How foolish she had been to believe she and Nathaniel could court like ordinary people.

She beat back the impending panic and forced a dignified expression onto her face. “Is this going to be an eleven-month assignment like you had in St. Louis? Or will you be back next weekend to escort me to the Smithsonian, like you promised?”

At least he had the grace to look sorry. “I don’t know the answer to that,” he said. “Tracking down counterfeiters is a complicated operation. It usually takes weeks or months. But, Caroline, this is too important for me to ignore.”

Something inside her snapped. “You will always have duties too important to ignore! Your entire life has been dedicated to serving other people, and you ought to get a medal for it.” She turned her ire on Wilkie. “Give this man a medal. He’s moved all over the country at your behest and has nothing to show for it. No wife, no home, certainly not a day free of responsibilities or a shred of fun. He ought to at least get a medal.”

Luke clamped a hand on her arm, then leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Stop it. Don’t lose your temper in public, and don’t say anything you might regret later.” He released her arm and slid back into his seat.

It was good advice. Luke smoothly covered her loss of composure by returning to their discussion about the plan to take down Captain Holland. Philip was insistent that no other agents be brought into the case. If Nathaniel couldn’t help, Philip wanted to work alone with Luke.

“That won’t work,” Wilkie said. “We need men monitoring Holland’s home, his office in the War Department, and the local telegraph office. You need to become accustomed to the idea that you can’t continue to run that little spy operation out of a basement map library.”

“There’s nothing ‘little’ about my spy operation,” Philip said. “I earned the trust of Theodore Roosevelt and have been doing good work on his behalf for years.”

“That’s all over now,” Nathaniel said. “Roosevelt is president, and he doesn’t get his own private army or investigative service.”

Caroline’s gaze trailed out the window as the men argued about legalities and lines of reporting. She ought to care, but she didn’t, for her heart felt crushed. Nathaniel had already reverted to his law-and-order demeanor by spotting flaws, pouncing on technicalities, and strategizing solutions.