Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Books by Elizabeth Camden
- Title Page
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Historical Note
- Questions for Discussion
- In 2020, look forCaroline Delacroix’sstory in
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
The bright voice cut through her misery. She looked up to see Caroline Delacroix descending the steps of the War Department, both hands outstretched in friendship.
Annabelle backed down a step. Aside from Gray, his sister was quite possibly the last person on earth she wanted to see. “I’m fine,” she said, unable to meet Caroline’s eyes. She wanted to escape, but Caroline still blocked her way.
“We should go out for tea,” Caroline said brightly. “I’d invite Gray, but he’s been so busy preparing for his presentation to the Food and Spice Association. La! Seems very dull to me, but Gray can be a real zealot over that sort of thing. Until that meeting is over, he will be buried like a moth hiding from the sun.”
This was torture. Annabelle had always admired the gentle teasing between the Delacroix siblings, but the contents of this satchel would blow it to smithereens.
“I have some business to attend to,” she said, sliding around Caroline to continue up the steps, but once again Caroline stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.
“I saw Countess Frederica at the embassy last week, and we reminisced about the christening of the yacht. Wasn’t it marvelous? If I live to be a hundred, I shall still be in your sister’s debt. Please give Elaine my regards.”
“I will,” Annabelle said, pulling away and heading up the steps.
A few minutes later, she was escorted into General Molinaro’s private office, where the cloying cigar smoke sickened her. The general gave her a polite nod and gestured to a chair. She didn’t want to sit. She just wanted this over with.
“I found something of interest.” She handed over the canvas bag. Touching those notebooks and letters was impossible.
As General Molinaro emptied the bag onto his desk, she stared out the window. The White House was visible from here, sitting serenely amidst the deep green leaves of summer. She was doing the right thing. Just because she hated it didn’t make it wrong.
A low whistle of admiration came from General Molinaro. “You have done very well.”
“What will happen to him?” Her voice sounded small and frightened in this ornate office.
“That will be for a court of law to determine,” he said. She must have flinched, for he immediately softened his voice. “Miss Larkin, this is treason. There is no room for sympathy here. Sometimes life forces us into unbearably difficult choices, but that does not absolve us from stepping up to the plate to do what is right. You did that and should be proud.”
“I’m not proud.”
She stood and left without another word.
Sixteen
