GABRIELLE CLIMBED THE stairs, her stomach roiling with the conversation about to come. Pushing open her door, she found Evaline unpacking Rebecca’s trunk. “What has happened, Gabby? No one will tell me anything.”

Gabrielle took her hand and led her to the window bench. “Sit down, Evaline. I have something to tell you.”

Gabrielle filled her best friend in on everything she knew, bolstered by the look of shock on Evaline’s face.

“Is that why he bought us?” she asked. “I thought it was because you gave up your horse.”

“You knew about that?”

Evaline nodded. “Mama told me.”

“Oh.” Gabrielle shrugged. “I suppose all of his motivations are in question now. Which just makes me angrier, Evaline. He lied to me about everything.”

“I’m sorry, Gabby.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because now you’re related to a Negro.”

Gabrielle stood and fisted her hands at her sides. “Never say that again, Evaline Marie Jones. I’ll not hear another negative word from you. I’m proud to call you my sister.”

“What about Rebecca and Theodore?”

“What about them?”

“You cannot alienate yourself from your family for me, Gabby.”

“I hope I won’t have to, but it doesn’t matter. Mark has asked me to marry him, and promised his protection.”

Evaline frowned. “Does he know about me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He will protect us both if it comes to that.”

Evaline sighed. “I don’t understand why Mama didn’t tell me. Oh! What’s to become of her? Your father won’t hurt her, will he?”

Gabrielle pressed her lips into a thin line. “I don’t think so. Theo’s leaving in the morning to find out everything. I’ll ask him to protect her.”

“Will he?”

“Evaline. Yes. He will.” Gabrielle sat next to Evaline again. “How are things going with John?”

“Oh, Gabby. He’s the most wonderful man. I believe I may be falling in love.”

“Follow your heart, Evaline.”

“I will now,” she said. “I no longer have the luxury of being cautious.”

“Yes you do,” Gabrielle stressed. “Truly.”

“Will you marry at home?”

Gabrielle shook her head. “No. Mark is finding out if Captain Ford will marry us. Tonight.”

“Tonight? Is that wise?”

“I don’t care, Evaline. I love him and I want to be his wife.”

Evaline stood with a sigh. “Well, it’s not my place to judge.”

Gabrielle chuckled. “No, you’re right. It’s not.”

“You have always had a mind of your own.”

“As have you.”

Evaline smiled. “I suppose now we know why we’re so alike.”

A knock at the door interrupted any further conversation and Gabrielle opened it to find Sophie standing on the other side. “I understand a wedding is to take place this evening?”

Gabrielle clapped her hands. “Is the captain available to perform it?”

“Yes. I thought you’d like some help getting ready, so I brought company.”

Jessica peeked around the doorjamb with a smile. “Are you sure you want to marry my annoying big brother?”

Gabrielle laughed. “More than anything.”

Jessica pulled her in for a hug. “I’m so glad.”

“You are?”

“Very!” Jessica grinned. “But you can’t wear that.”

“I know. I thought I’d wear my blue.”

Victoria walked into the room, followed by Hannah, carrying a white gown. “No, you can wear this.”

“What is that?” Gabby asked.

“Confession?” Victoria asked. “As soon as you met Mark, Hannah and I did something sneaky.”

“You did?”

Hannah nodded. “We had this made. Just in case.”

Gabby felt the prick of tears. “It’s beautiful.”

“Okay, let’s get you ready,” Sophie said. “Emma’s checking on Mark, but will be here in a few minutes.”

* * *

The wedding of Mark Battaglia and Gabrielle Butler was a family affair, filled with laughter and joy, even with Theo in attendance. Gabby’s brother appeared to have accepted the inevitable and was making the best of it. And with the absence of their father, Theo even walked his sister down the aisle without argument.

Gabrielle was concerned about the subject of her dowry, but Mark wasn’t interested in her family’s money, especially if it came with strings. They’d sort it out when the rest of the mess was dealt with.

Sophie had organized a late supper. Afterwards, Mark led Gabby to his room and pushed open the door. He swept her into his arms and carried her inside. “There has never been a more beautiful bride,” he said as he set her on the floor and kissed her.

“Thank you.”

He smiled down at her pink face. “Are you nervous?”

“A little.”

“We’ll go as slowly as you need.”

She nodded and turned her back. “Will you unbutton me, please?”

“With pleasure.”

As he slipped the buttons on her gown, he kissed her neck and slid the dress from her body. With their future secure and the offer to stay with the Fords’ until they could find their own home close by, Mark was determined to make sure his new bride knew just how much he loved her and how far he’d go to make her happy.

Unlacing her corset, he pushed it down her hips and turned her to face him, kissing her deeply. Gabrielle gripped his waist and met his kiss, their tongues connecting in fervor. Her chemise had slipped off one milky shoulder, so he tugged on the ribbon to open it further and it fell to her hips, revealing her full breasts. Mark cupped them, sucking one nipple into his mouth, then another. “Perfect, baby.”

Mark pushed her chemise off her hips and lifted her onto the bed. He removed the rest of his clothing and then stretched out beside her, pulling her close and kissing her again. As his tongue swept into her mouth, his hand slid between her legs, her wetness confirming her desire. He ran his finger against her heat and then slipped it inside of her. Gabrielle mewled and arched against his hand.

“Oh, my,” she rasped as he pressed against her clitoris with his thumb.

“Do you like that?”

“Very much,” she whispered.

He moved to hover above her, leaning down to kiss her thighs.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Mark smiled. “Do you trust me?”

She licked her lips, but nodded, and he lowered his mouth to her most intimate place, sucking her clitoris into his mouth while sliding a finger inside of her again, then two.

“Oh!” she squeaked.

Before she climaxed, he shifted so he was over her. “Just relax, baby.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as he slid inside of her. The feeling was not as painful as she expected.

“Are you okay?”

She met his eyes and nodded.

“I’m going to go slow.”

“I’m all right, sweetheart,” she assured.

Mark surged into her, covering her hiss of pain with his mouth and sliding his hand between them so he could work her clit again. When Gabrielle moved against him, Mark thrust into her and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He continued to bury himself inside of her until he was sure he would explode, but it was Gabrielle who cried out as she climaxed around him, so he allowed himself to let go.

Lying in his bed, their bodies tangled in the sheets, Mark kissed Gabrielle’s temple and ran his hand down her arm. “I love you.”

She smiled sleepily up at him, her finger drawing pictures on his chest. “I love you too. How soon before we can do that again?”

Mark chuckled. “Let’s wait until you’re not so sore.”

“What if I don’t want to wait?”

Mark rolled her onto her back and kissed her neck. “Have I created a monster already?”

She sighed and nodded. “Very much so. I had no idea intimacy would be like this.”

Mark grinned. “It isn’t, typically.”

She frowned. “Do I want to know how you would know that?”

“Probably not.”

“I won’t ask then.”

Mark settled his head in his hand. “You can ask, Gia. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

She ran a finger down his chest. “I might one day, but today I want to believe I’m the only woman you’ve ever loved.”

“You are.”

“You know what I mean.”

He smiled and kissed her quickly. “It’s not like I’ve slept with a hundred women, Gia. It was two, and a long time ago.”

“Really?”

Mark nodded. “I was in a rebellious stage when I was in my teens and thought sex would make me feel better. It didn’t, probably because it wasn’t right and I knew it. I made a commitment to wait until marriage and I’m glad I did.”

“Was it hard?”

“At times.” He kissed her neck again. “But waiting for you was harder.”

“It was?”

“I have wanted to peel you out of your clothes since I met you.”

She slapped his shoulder. “You have not.”

“I have.” He kissed her stomach.

She let out a giggle. “I had no idea.”

“Good. I didn’t want to seem like a pervert,” he said as he kissed her hip. “I’d hoped to save that side of my personality for later.”

“Oh, I don’t know...” she gasped as he kissed the outside of her knee, “...I quite like this side of your personality.”

“What do you like the most about it?”

Gabrielle couldn’t answer as Mark focused on showing her yet another side to him.

* * *

April 13, 1865

The group had convened at Christopher’s townhouse to await news of the assassination attempt, as it was the largest and could accommodate everyone.

“Sophie, you said Booth will be at the National Hotel, correct?” Christopher instructed, referring to his notes.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Remember not to eat or drink anything while you’re there,” Clayton reminded the group.

“Why not?” Jamie asked.

“There was some kind of illness outbreak years ago and they still don’t know what caused it. It’s a precaution.”

“Isn’t there some talk of poison?” Sophie asked.

“Yes, but no one knows for certain.”

“What happens if we miss Booth?” Travis asked.

Sophie took a deep breath. “He goes to Ford’s theater to pick up his mail, which is where he finds out Lincoln will be at the performance tomorrow. We need to make sure Lincoln goes to Grover’s to see Aladdin not Our American Cousin.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Clayton asked.

“Then you better damn well make sure that guard doesn’t leave his post,” Sophie snapped.

“Are you certain Seward will be attacked? For God’s sake, the man’s recovering from a carriage accident,” Christopher said.

“Yes,” Sophie said with a scowl. “If we fail, Johnson, who is a pig of a man, will take over the running of this country.”

“So, we won’t fail.”

“The man showed up drunk on inauguration day!” she continued, and turned to Christopher. “How do you tolerate him? Outside of the fact his face is permanently stuck in that expression of a person smelling something awful. Maybe it’s himself he’s smelling.”

Jamie laughed. “Sophie. You’re veering off course, baby.”

“Sorry,” she grumbled.

“So, let’s go over his movements again,” Christopher suggested.

“Booth picks up his mail around noon.”

“At Ford’s.”

“Yes. Ford’s Theater. That’s when he’s told Lincoln won’t be at Grover’s. If you miss him there, go to Surratt’s boarding house.”

“Why does he go back there?”

“He wants Mary Surratt to deliver something for him, I think... to her tavern, if I remember correctly. She does it, which is why she’ll be hanged.” Sophie paced the room. “Make sure the Grants stick with their plan not to attend.”

“What about the attack on Grant?”

“Don’t worry about that one. The private railcar Grant and his wife will be riding in will be locked and guarded. They won’t get near him.”

“Perhaps someone should be there, just in case the small changes we’re making now affect history and change everything,” Mark suggested.

“Oh, good thought,” Sophie said.

“I can have my men guarding them,” Christopher said. “They can pose as porters.”

Sophie nodded.

“I’ll keep watch on the roof,” Travis said. “That way I can track if needed.”

“Good plan,” Jamie said.

“Right, let’s have something to eat and everyone try to get a good night’s sleep,” Sophie said. “I won’t be able to, so y’all will need to be awake for me.”

“I have wine,” Jamie said. “Lots of it. You will sleep.”

“We’ll see.”

The group ate dinner together and then dispersed. Accommodations were split up between Christopher, Quincy, Andrew and Clayton, providing plenty of room for everyone. The next day was going to be tense.

* * *

April 14, 1865, 10:30am

Christopher entered the White House and made his way to the Crimson Parlor, Mrs. Lincoln’s favorite sitting room. Although she didn’t have many women she considered close acquaintances or friends, Mrs. Lincoln did receive several private calls throughout the week, and this is where she’d host her guests.

Christopher was quite familiar with the room as it was also where the President often met his friends socially after dinner. Christopher was one of those honored with the title of friend, and he and Hannah had visited with the President and First Lady several times in this room.

The furniture was ornate, the cushions of crimson satin and gold damask, with heavy gilded cornices on the windows and ancient and priceless artwork. A grand piano was a stunning focal point in the room, as was the full-length portrait of George Washington.

Christopher wondered how much, if any, of the furnishings would survive to be seen by Hannah’s future generation.

Mrs. Lincoln had requested an audience with Christopher, and he was surprised to walk into the room to find Hugh McCulloch, the new Secretary of the Treasury. Hugh stood before the fireplace sipping a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Christopher.”

“Good morning, Mr. Secretary.” Christopher frowned. “Are you meeting with Mrs. Lincoln also?”

“No. I’m here for the cabinet meeting, however, the president is late. I was directed here,” he explained. “The others will be arriving shortly.”

Christopher smiled. “Yes. I drove over with Mr. Stanton.”

“Ah, yes, he’s smarter than I, anticipating Mr. Lincoln’s inability to tell time,” Hugh joked. “Where is he?”

“He’s meeting with Mr. Usher presently.”

“Mrs. Lincoln provided breakfast. Are you hungry?” Hugh nodded to the table laden with pastries and hot drinks.

“Thank you.” Christopher made his way to the table and prepared a cup of coffee.

Hugh sipped his coffee again. “Have you seen the president this morning?”

“No. I had hoped to see him before lunch.” Christopher sat on the sofa facing the fireplace. “Have you seen him?”

“I did.” Hugh chuckled. “Happiest I’ve ever seen him. Actually looked rested. The success of the Union must be a burden off his shoulders.”

A shiver of awareness shot through Christopher as Hugh said those words. Sophie had warned him it was the beginning. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.

It begins.

“Everything all right, m’boy?”

Christopher forced a smile. “Yes. Just enjoying the coffee.”

Hugh gave him a look of confusion, but then shrugged and sipped his drink.

The door from the Blue room opened with a flourish and Mrs. Lincoln entered, followed closely by Mrs. Keckley, her close Negro companion.

Christopher stood and set his cup down, folding his hands behind his back.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Mrs. Lincoln said.

“Mrs. Lincoln,” they said in unison.

“I’m off to find Mr. Stanton. I’ll leave you to your meeting,” Hugh said, and slipped out of the room.

Mrs. Lincoln faced Christopher, a serious look upon her face. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Butler. It’s possible I’m overreacting, but Mr. Lincoln is in a particularly jovial mood and I want him watched. Nothing good comes from speaking such happiness out loud.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Christopher said. “We will be ever more watchful.” His heart was heavy. Any other day, Mrs. Lincoln might be overreacting, but in this case, she had every reason to worry.

“Yes. I believe you will,” she said, her shoulders relaxing.

“Be assured my main priority is the safety of your husband, ma’am.”

He saw the sheen of tears. “Thank you for understanding that he’s more to me than the President of this country.” Christopher smiled and Mrs. Lincoln glanced behind her. “Come, Lizzie.”

Once the ladies left the room, Christopher pulled out his pocket watch. Just before noon. Right about now, Booth would be at the stables. Christopher was due to meet Clayton and Jamie back at his home at three.