The two generals glanced at each other, then the grandfatherly one sent her a reassuring smile. “In that case, you will have helped clear an innocent man’s name. And a permanent job at the Smithsonian will still be forthcoming, so long as you give it your best shot.”

Dr. Norwood looked haggard as he leaned toward her. “My grandson is in Cuba,” he said. “He is helping rebuild the water and irrigation systems that were destroyed during the war. No one wants a rebellion. Thousands of lives, both American and Cuban, will be at risk if that happens.”

She turned away from the burning appeal in his eyes. She wasn’t the right person for this. She didn’t have the heart or cunning for this sort of work. Her gaze trailed to a framed photograph of Dr. Norwood and a young man wearing the uniform of the Army Corps of Engineers. It hurt to look at the young man’s wholesome, smiling face.

Gray was an obsessively private man, but he had been open with her. It was unlikely the government could find anyone else with such access. Maybe there was an innocent explanation for all this. Gray could have been engaged in harmless business correspondence with Cuban planters who had somehow gotten mixed up in an insurgency. That didn’t mean Gray had anything to do with it; she might even be able to exonerate him. She could probably exonerate him, for surely this was all a terrible misunderstanding.

But if Gray was guilty, he needed to be stopped.

Her entire body felt heavy as she turned her attention back to the generals. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

Ten

Ever since resolving to send Luke to Cuba, Gray had been racked with a gnawing sense of doubt. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he were sending Luke into the unexplored jungles of Asia or the frozen Arctic. He was sending Luke to Cuba to meet with a few planters and finally start contributing to the family coffers.

Caroline didn’t try to hide her annoyance as she accompanied Gray to the port to bid Luke farewell. The early morning air was damp as they walked toward the harbor, but Caroline’s tone was briskly awake.

“Luke has been doing quite well as a journalist,” she said. “If you could lift your head out of the financial ledgers and read what he’s published, you might actually be impressed.”

“And has he been paid for any of those publications?”

“That’s not how it works. He writes for love, not money.”

Gray held his tongue. Caroline wore one of her spectacular new gowns, a royal blue confection that looked impossible to breathe in. The yearly stipend she earned from being Mrs. McKinley’s social secretary wouldn’t have paid for even half the gowns she’d bought, so Caroline was in no position to lecture him about money.