Her blue eyes grew wide, and she looked unexpectedly moved. “Thank you for that,” she said. “I know your political leanings, and I know this isn’t what you would have wished for me—”

“Shh,” he said. “You’re doing good work. And you’re making your own way in life. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then turned to walk into the north entrance of the building. As he walked back to the carriage, he gazed at the shockingly blue sky overhead.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He had never been much of a praying man, but God had blessed him with the foundation of a strong family. Luke and Caroline were both on their way to becoming admirable, successful people, and for the first time in a decade, Gray truly believed everything was going to be all right.

Eleven

Annabelle wrestled with how best to approach Gray to gain access to his house, but finally she simply opened the negotiation the same way they’d first met. Through a letter.

Gray,

My work at the Smithsonian will be light for the next week until a delivery of moss from Australia arrives. While I await the moss with bated breath, I hope to take advantage of the unexpected freedom to explore your extensive library of herb and spice lore. May I visit?

Annabelle

She was at her bench in the workroom, carefully emptying the contents of a seed pod from some Australian eucalyptus, when a messenger arrived with a reply from Gray.

Annabelle,

Come to my bottling factory. I want to show you what I’m working on. Come quickly. It won’t last long.

Gray

Postscript: In the interest of full disclosure, I confess an embarrassing desire simply to see you again. I miss your smile.

The sweet message pricked her conscience. Everything about her deceitful motives felt wrong, but she needed to stop thinking of this as spying. Her mission was to exonerate Gray. She didn’t believe he was a traitor, but the government did.

The address of his bottling factory was at the bottom of the letter. The generals had told her that the most likely place to find evidence of espionage was in Gray’s townhouse, but how could she decline this invitation? He was eager and wanted to share his work with her.

An ache twisted her abdomen, and she curled over in her chair. She drew a ragged breath and prayed for guidance. A moral person had an obligation to protect her country and thousands of people. How dare she let her growing affection for a man interfere with that? It made her ill, but she knew what she had to do.

“Mr. Delacroix wants to know if you can come now,” the messenger boy said. “If you can’t, I’ve got another letter I’m supposed to give you.”