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without as much disappointment. I understand. But, I promise ye, the public will be far more upset if ye’re assassinated at the theater.”

Lincoln smiled at Braham with what looked like an attempt at confident reassurance. “You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today.”

A trickle of sweat ran down the back of Braham’s neck, under the queue tied at his nape. “But, sir—”

Lincoln held up his hand to silence further argument, and while there was sympathy in his eyes, there was determination, too. For Lincoln, the matter was closed, but it would not vanish like a vapor, it would manifest into extreme anxiety for Braham. A free fall of perspiration trailed down his back.

They continued in silence until they reached the War Department. “What’d ye decide about arresting Jacob Thompson?” Braham asked.

“I told Assistant Secretary Dana, when you’ve got an elephant by the hind leg, and he’s trying to run away, it’s best to let him run.”

“Guess it means the Confederate marauder is going to escape to England.”

The president merely lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Secretary Stanton wasn’t pleased with my decision.”

The guard reached the entrance to the War Department first and held the door for Lincoln and Braham. The president went immediately to the telegraph desk to check for messages from General Sherman, and afterward remained there with one hand on his hip, his lips pursed, reading the telegrams.

“Sherman is occupying Raleigh. It’s only a matter of time before he meets with Johnston and negotiates a surrender.”

Braham gave the president’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “It’s almost over.”

After Lincoln had read the telegrams, he and Braham returned to the White House, strolling past the gaslights glittering on the surrounding evergreens and the flags. Lincoln remained lost in thought as he shuffled back to his office, where he met with Illinois Governor Richard Oglesby and a group of friends. Braham remained outside the president’s door, listening to stories and laughter, but his mind was so fixed on what was about to happen, he couldn’t enjoy Lincoln’s obvious pleasure.

Braham sat with his head bowed and propped on his hand. His fingers were splayed through his hair, massaging his forehead as he slowly rotated his head back and forth.

“Never seen you so worried, Major,” Nicolay said. “Does it have anything to do with the rumors I’ve heard about you being seen several times this week in the company of a beautiful woman?” Nicolay leaned forward, wearing an expression of amused bewilderment. He lowered his voice. “I’ve also heard tell she’s the doctor the president sent to Richmond to rescue you from Chimborazo.”

Braham moved his powerful shoulders in a partial shrug, and he flashed Nicolay a ghost of a grin. “Don’t believe everything ye hear, John.”

Braham leaned his chair back against the wall as he had earlier and closed his eyes. He didn’t move when the president’s company departed and Lincoln left to join his family for dinner. Knowing the president was safe for the time being, Braham nodded off.

A gentle touch on his shoulder startled him out of a light sleep. He blinked several times as Charlotte’s wavy image took form and shape.

“What a surprise.” He rose slowly from the chair, still stiff and achy from his Richmond ordeal and very little rest since returning to Washington. He and Charlotte had made love all night for the last three nights, so he certainly wasn’t complaining about his lack of sleep.

A flush appeared on her cheeks. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

He stretched, yawning. “The president went to dinner with his family, and I dozed off. I’m glad to see ye.”

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I know you’re tired.”

He was certainly glad to see her, but he sensed immediately she wasn’t paying a social call. The visit had to be her last plea. Throughout the week they had skirted around and outright avoided any discussion of Lincoln. But, by some unspoken yet mutual consent, the subject had lurked still, dull and gray and ominous.

“Let’s go out into the hall. There’s a corner where we can have some privacy,” he said.

They left the office for a quiet alcove. Their mingled shadows floated together on the wall. Braham pulled her into his arms, pausing to appreciate the fragrance of vanilla from lotion she used on her face. A distinct scent he would forever associate with her. As if under a spell, his eyes were drawn to her lips, parted and full, and the sound of her breathing filled him with desire. He kissed her hard and thoroughly, his tongue teasing hers. The kiss had lasted only a few seconds before she stepped away, ending it abruptly and decisively.

She chewed on the corner of her lip, looking as if she wanted to say something, but she wasn’t sure what or if she should. Finally, she said, “Jack and I are leaving in the morning, regardless of what happens tonight. I’ll ask you one more time. Please don’t interfere.”

“How can ye ask that of me? Ye’ve sat at his knee and hung on his every word. The country needs him desperately. I don’t care about the future. I care about right now.”

Charlotte’s breath hitched. She shook her head, and her unbound golden hair released the faint scent of amber and vanilla. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm. The area was quiet except for the gentle crack of settling timber in the fireplace in the president’s nearby office.

He tried to slow his breathing and stop the racing of his heart. He loved her, but she didn’t understand that, to him, Abraham Lincoln wasn’t a marble statue. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“I don’t think there is another meaning. But tell me this: if you stop Booth tonight, what will you do tomorrow, or the next day? The president wants you to chase down the gold. Are you going to stay and guard him for the rest of his term? If you take out Booth, someone else will come along with

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