Nigel and I never spoke of love, but the ties—emotional as well as physical—that bound us together were stronger than words.
“Portia?”
“Yes, darling?” I stood before the mirror, screwing into my ears the sapphires my parents had given me for my eighteenth birthday. We’d been to the inauguration—in spite of Mr. Mann’s words, the young senator from Massachusetts had defeated the former vice president—and now we were getting ready to go to the inaugural ball.
“Bryan is sending me on a mission.” Nigel’s eyes were reflected in the mirror, and I watched them, almost gray-green now to match the muted colors in the tie I had given him as a Christmas gift.
“Official cover, Nigel?” A sham position which would afford him diplomatic immunity in whatever embassy he was assigned.
“Yes.” There was n
