She blanched. She couldn’t bear the thought of Luke sweltering in jail until after the election in November. Even worse, if President McKinley lost the election, she would have no hope whatsoever. Her shoulders sagged, and it felt like she’d just aged fifty years.

“Miss Delacroix, you just plunked down a fortune to purchase my services and complete confidentiality. I can’t render effective counsel unless I know the details of the offense and the identity of the perpetrator.”

How could she keep her chin up and admit that her twin brother had confessed to treason against the United States? Luke was only six minutes older than her, but he’d always been her hero. He was utterly and completely fearless. Not like Caroline. When she was a child, she was afraid of everything. Of the dark, noises in the attic, unfamiliar foods, even caterpillars.

Luke never made fun of her. He simply gathered up a bunch of caterpillars and let them crawl all over his arms, his neck, the top of his head. Then he spoke calming words as he carefully lowered one onto the back of her hand so she could see that it would be okay.

On their fifth birthday, her father arranged a treat by shipping in artichokes from California. She’d been leery of the odd-looking vegetable, mistrusting its scent and tough outer layers. Coaxing from her father and Gray did no good. It wasn’t until Luke gamely ripped off an artichoke petal and pretended to relish the mushy, strange-tasting food that she dared try it.

Every year after that, Luke presented her with a perfect artichoke in memory of her newfound courage. It didn’t matter that sometimes he was away at college and once traveling in Spain. On her birthday, Luke made sure she received a basket of artichokes, one for each year they’d been alive.

His example taught her to outgrow childish fears, and soon she was tromping alongside him as they searched the countryside for Indian arrowheads and buried treasure. They snuck out of the house after dark to watch the flurry of bats careen wildly about the trees in their backyard.

The problem was that as they got older, she continued to embrace Luke’s daring outlook on life. Together they set Washington society on fire. There was never a party they didn’t attend, never a race they didn’t run. Once when her father was overseas, she and Luke arranged a wild birthday party for themselves aboard a barge in the Potomac. They lit off fireworks and drank champagne straight from the bottle. Caroline borrowed a sword from a naval officer to cut the birthday cake. It was the sort of daring caper that made them the most celebrated people in town. She’d always thought it was harmless, but Luke eventually started crossing the line into real trouble.