Ruby's Song (Love in the Sierras Book 3) (9 page)

She reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. “It’s not that. I’m delighted to spend more time with you. It’s just…you are a lamb about to enter the wolves’ den.”

His mouth quirked in a sideways grin. “Thanks for your confidence.”

She shook her head back and forth, trying to focus on the situation he was getting himself into and not on the enticing curve of his lips when he smiled like that. “You don’t know these people like I do. Dinner parties follow a much more strict form of etiquette than most engagements, and they won’t hesitate to ridicule you and your...
western
ignorance.”

“You already told me what to expect. Politeness to my face and crucifixion behind my back.”

“Your version of polite and theirs may differ, I’m afraid.”

“It doesn’t concern me,” he said smoothly. “So long as I get to spend time with you.”

Marlena smiled and suddenly couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

Chapter 9

Dalton brushed a strand of his mother’s hair from the shoulder of his black dress coat, feeling guilty for leaving her so often to visit Marlena. She had dismissed his apology with a snort before helping him slip on his coat. It was the finest garment he owned, but he knew it would fall short of the attire he’d see at the dinner party tonight. Still, when he’d made the decision to continue seeing Marlena, he determined to do so in his own clothes, in his own skin, and not in the form of someone pretending to be above his birth.

Marlena worried about him in the face of her high-brow friends. She obviously didn’t know he’d spent his life the center of ridicule for being the bastard son of a whore. He’d been teased for not taking his father’s name, though he couldn’t even if he wanted. He didn’t know it, and neither did his mother. That was a tougher tar to swallow than anything Marlena’s peers could dish up. His sole purpose in attending the event was to see her.

When she emerged in her evening wear, he knew that whatever barbs he had to endure that night were worth the vision she created in light blue taffeta. Her accents were done in a light rose color, from the buttons of her bodice to the three yokes of lace wiggling above the hem of her full skirt. The wide sleeves belled around her wrist, the cuffs done in rose lace as well. Her hair was swept into an updo, its natural waves still obvious despite the fact they’d been thoroughly combed through. No decoration adorned the mass of blond tresses, unlike Sarah Jeanne, who wore an emerald green gown and matching velvet headdress. But Marlena didn’t need decoration. Her beauty spoke for itself.

She’d greeted him with a smile but sometime during the carriage ride she’d begun to worry her bottom lip with her teeth, and he knew that worry was for him. He wanted to reassure her. A simple squeeze of her hand would do but he sat across from her so he settled for tapping her slipper with his boot. She looked at him, her eyes apologizing in advance. He smirked and sent her a wink. The effect was instant as her frown relaxed and a soft smile spread across her lips. She looked lovely and he found himself wondering about the contrast between the bold player on stage and the shy, nervous creature across from him.

The dinner party was smaller than he’d expected, only a dozen people and all had greeted him with friendly smiles, bows and handshakes. As Marlena led him toward a gentleman ten years his senior, an alarm rang through him at the way the man eyed Marlena. He had light blond hair and dark brown eyes that swept boldly over Little Miss, never minding she had her arm hooked into Dalton’s elbow. Finally, the man spared him a glance and Dalton took the advantage to narrow his eyes, conveying a protective message that made the man flinch.

“Harrison,” Marlena said as they came to a stop before him. The man took Marlena’s free hand and bowed over it, planting a kiss on her knuckles before straightening to his full height. Marlena’s eyes fell sheepishly to the floor before she spoke. “May I present my cousin, Mr. Dalton Cunningham.”

“Aah, the westerner I’ve heard so much about,” he said, stretching out a hand.

“Yep,” Dalton said. They shook hands. It was the firmest handshake Dalton had ever given. Marlena continued with the introduction, none the wiser.

“Harrison is Sarah’s manager,” she explained to Dalton.

“And hopefully yours one day soon,” Sarah cut in. Harrison acknowledged Sarah’s comment with a slight bow and a full grin.

“What exactly does the job entail?” he asked Harrison.

“Negotiations of fees and accommodations of Miss Winthrop’s performances, both in the country and abroad, travel accommodations and preparations, scheduling, procurement of staff, financial control, to name a few tasks.”

Sarah hooked her arm around Harrison’s. “He’s the best there is. I have little to no stress at all when I tour and it’s all because of him.”

Dalton’s eyebrows rose. “So, you accompany Miss Winthrop on her tours?”

Harrison laughed, as if the question was absurd. “Of course. There is very little I can accomplish in Boston if Miss Winthrop is in Paris.”

The hostess called for the party to enter the dining room and Harrison led Sarah away. Dalton and Marlena hung in the back before following the crowd. He decided he didn’t like Harrison and leaned down to whisper in Marlena’s ear. “Better watch that one, Little Miss. He’s got his eyes on you.”

Her eyes widened as they met his. “You can’t be serious.”

“Trust me. I’m an excellent judge of character, and your Mr. Brady has designs.” Worry filled her eyes and she placed a hand nervously at the base of her throat. Dalton chuckled and patted the hand on his arm. “Not to worry. As long as I’m here, you’re safe with me.”

“You’d better stop coming around me, Dalton,” she said and he turned a questioning gaze onto her. Her head slanted coyly and she lowered her voice even more. “Escorting me home each night,” she left out “from
The Museum”
lest anyone overhear, “safeguarding me from would-be suitors. Two more weeks in your presence and I may forget how to take care of myself.”

A memory flashed through his mind, tales from Valentine Kelly about how Marlena had shot her sister’s murdering husband at the tender age of ten. He also knew she carried a pistol with her everywhere she went. Her true personality may still be unfolding for him, but one thing he knew for certain. She was not helpless.

“You’ll be all right,” he told Marlena. “Though I’m finding it very hard to make you out.”

Her forehead folded into soft wrinkles as she glanced around to be sure no one paid them any mind. The crowd was much more engrossed in their own conversations. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing you seem shy,” he leaned to whisper against her ear, “except for on the stage.” He pulled the chair back for her so she could settle into it.

“That
does
sound like a puzzle,” she admitted with a light laugh, holding her hand against her belly to settle the rush of tiny flutters stirred up by the feel of his hot breath on her ear.

“You speak very little, and only when prodded or provoked, yet I don’t think you remain quiet out of shyness. You’re bold…in the evenings…yet delicate and fragile in direct conversation or observation. That tells me you are very good at acting,” he continued as he took his place beside her. “So, I’m trying to decipher who you are and who you’re trying to be.”

She laughed, and it sounded nervous. “I think we are all good at acting when we need to be.”

When the plates began filling. Dalton piled his plate with roasted lamb, offering some to Marlena. The only vegetable that appealed to him was the potatoes but they were too far down to reach. Dalton caught the eye of the man closest to the platter.

“Excuse me, chap,” he called down. “Would you mind passing the potatoes?”

The table fell silent and all eyes turned to him, filled with horror. Across the table Sarah buried her face in her hands with a groan. Dalton looked from one person to the next before meeting Marlena’s eyes, and they were the only ones filled with amusement. Mrs. Bradley stood at the head of the table, and fashioned her guests with a smile.

“Our gentleman guest is from New Mexico and this is his first time in the company of such refinement. Please don’t trouble yourselves to be offended.” She looked to a waiter nearby. “Please offer some potatoes to Mr. Cunningham.”

When Mrs. Bradley resumed her seat, the quiet hum of conversations arose and grew to its former volume. Dalton noticed several glances and sniggers sent his way as he filled his plate with potatoes. He leaned over to Marlena.

“I guess I bungled that.”

She hid her giggle behind her ungloved palm. “You’ve certainly given them something to talk about.”

“What, potatoes? A gripping topic of discussion, for sure.”

She laughed again, and it wasn’t the last time. Dalton broke a dozen more “rules” throughout the meal, each creating a greater stir than the last and almost all of them intentional. Nobody spoke or engaged with Marlena throughout the meal and while she seemed content with it, he aimed to see her smile as often as possible, and so had thrown himself into the path of ridicule.  The most memorable breach, however, came at the end, when Dalton proceeded to gulp the water set before him in a glass. When the deathly silence fell on the room again, he looked up to find another round of wide-eyed stares pinned on him. He looked at Marlena, who cleared her throat, hid her mirth behind her twitching grin and dipped her fingers into the water, demonstrating that the water was meant for cleansing the fingers.

Loud laughter burst forth from his chest as he set the glass down on the table. Marlena’s efforts at sobriety failed and she chuckled alongside him. Finally, he set his elbows on the table and wiped the wetness from his eyes, reclaiming his breath. He looked around at the serious faces.

“How entertaining I must be for you all tonight. It’s all right to laugh with me,” he encouraged. “I find it quite humorous myself.”

His chest began to shake again and more laughter bubbled out of him. Soon, other voices joined him around the table until the entire party was in a fit of hysterics. Sarah’s voice broke out over the laughter.

“When he used his spoon for the butter, I about died,” she called through her own laughter. Heads bobbed up and down in agreement as the volume of laughter rose.

“And when he slurped his soup I had to stifle my laughter with my napkin,” another woman added and the laughter grew. More voices piped in to extoll Dalton’s many showings of ignorance, and he laughed along with them. His humor was sincere but he laughed at more than himself. He laughed at how severely they held such rules, and how trivial they really were when properly thought out.

“What I don’t understand,” Dalton said, continuing to bark his laughter. “Is that you all clean your dirty fingers in your water glasses on the very table you eat at. And you call
me
uncivilized!”

The roars were deafening. When Mrs. Bradley wiped her tears with her napkin, the cacophony died down. She stood and invited everyone to partake of a dramatic reading in the next room. The company stood and left their napkins on the table, several men clapping Dalton on the shoulder as they shuffled past him. It took him another minute for his chuckles to fade at the ridiculousness of such a setting.

Marlena took his arm. “That was the most enjoyable dinner I’ve had in the last five years.”

He was still smiling. “I’ve never seen so much pomp and circumstance over a meal. Good God, leave it to the rich to complicate something as simple as eating.”

“I wish it would have lasted a little longer.”

He flinched.  “Really? It seemed too long already.”

“No, it’s not that,” Marlena said, leaning onto his arm. “I’m dreading what is going to happen next.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sarah told me I’ll be asked to sing at some point this evening. She is trying to prepare me for concerts.”

“Why should that worry you? Your voice is wonderful.”

She shook her head. “Not in a concert setting. I don’t understand it, but I feel myself closing off when I sing on my own. I’m sure it’s only a matter of experience, and I should welcome the opportunity, but I can already feel my stomach in knots knowing it’s coming.”

He studied her, the nervousness plain in her hesitant gait and fidgeting fingers, and it puzzled him.

They shuffled into the sitting room where Mrs. Bradley held up a volume of Dickens. “Would our new guest care to do the honors?” She gestured toward Dalton.

“What? Read aloud?”

“Certainly, if you can read.”

Dalton fought the eye roll wanting to appear. Instead, he smiled. “I know a word or two, and I’d love to read for you all.”

He deposited Marlena into a seat and went to the center of the room, standing in the middle of a circle of seated aristocrats. He took the book, noting it was
Great Expectations
and that the story had been bookmarked at the twentieth chapter.

“We began the reading a few weeks ago. I hope you don’t mind picking up in the middle?” Mrs. Bradley asked.

“Not at all, but I’m afraid I can’t do this alone. I’ll need a female counterpart. I can manage a decent Pip and Joe, but my baritone is too severe for Biddy and Estella.” He nodded toward Marlena, ignoring the round of shock alighting on faces who clearly hoped to be entertained by more ignorance. “Cousin, might you assist me?”

Marlena rose with a smile and a bright bloom in her cheeks, joining him in the circle’s center. He began the chapter, adjusting his voice to the tone of the text. When it came time for Marlena to speak, her eyes darted to him and filled with worry. He smiled encouragingly and gave her a nod. She cleared her throat and read her lines in a timid, even voice. Dalton parried with greater animation, reaching out to take her hand as though the scene called for it. She laughed at his antics and relaxed a bit, reading with more ease.

Together, they read for an hour, both injecting humor into the lines and seriousness when the story called for it. Marlena fell into characters easily after the first few moments of fear had passed and each time their eyes met she conveyed her gratitude. As they opened chapter twenty-nine, Dalton took the lead in reciting Pip’s monologue as he spoke of his unwavering love and devotion to Estella. As he read the words aloud, he could feel the warmth of Marlena beside him. He’d never believed such as Pip’s love and devotion was possible outside the realm of fiction, but as of late he began to wonder.