Moonlight With Alice (The Matchmaker's Ball Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  Mrs. Morgan hurried over to meet Alice, both arms outstretched. “You look wonderful, my dear. Thank you for coming.”

  Alice looked down at her dress, then back up. “It’s not actually a ball gown, Mrs. Morgan—I didn’t have time to make one. Do I look all right?”

  “You look perfect.” Mrs. Morgan gave her a quick squeeze. “If you’ll excuse me, I need . . . to do something . . . over there. Why don’t you come help me?” She tucked her arm around Alice’s friend and led her away, leaving Ranse and Alice standing there alone.

  Ranse’s heart was pounding so hard, it felt like a herd of cows stampeding in his chest. Alice looked up at him shyly, doubt and concern in her eyes, and he couldn’t have stayed away if he’d been paid to do it. He took a step forward and held out his arm. “Miss Givens, may I have this dance?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “I was handed this dance card just outside, and I think you’re supposed to sign it before I can dance with you. There’s some sort of unbreakable law when it comes to these things.”

  “I see. And as a lawman, I should be on my best behavior. Is this what you’re saying?”

  “Yes. Definitely.” Her eyes twinkled as she handed him her dance card and its attached pencil. He opened it and pretended to study it, then took the pencil and drew a line through every dance there, writing his name beside that line. “I’m sorry, Miss Givens, but you’re booked the remainder of the evening. It seems that some cad came along and scribbled all over your nice schedule.”

  “Oh, my. Who would do such a thing?”

  “No gentleman, that’s for sure. A gentleman would leave space for the other men to have their fair shot.”

  “And you don’t think that’s right?”

  “I might have, if you’d asked me earlier, but right now, I’m the only man I want to see you dancing with.” He held his arm out again, and she took it. Seconds later, they were whirling about on the dance floor, and it didn’t even bother Ranse that he had no idea if he was doing it correctly.

  Over the past few days, he’d wondered what it would feel like to hold Alice in his arms. She was such a tiny thing, she couldn’t possibly weigh more than a hundred pounds, and he’d pictured her floating away from his embrace. She was floating, but it was in time to the music, and he could truthfully say that he’d never been so happy in his life. “Happy” seemed like an odd word for it, though, and “content” was far too tame. What was he feeling, and what should he call it?

  Euphoric.

  But he’d never say it aloud, or admit to the lavender sachet. There were some things a man just couldn’t do.

  As they made another sweep around the ballroom, Ranse saw Titus Ross enter, and he knew what he needed to do. Once the music had come to an end, Ranse told Alice he’d fetch them some punch, and he guided her to a chair somewhat near where Titus stood. He might not want to give any other man a chance, but he would because he wanted Alice to be happy. She should get a choice, and Titus should be able to speak his feelings. It was the only way Ranse would feel things had been done right.

  Chapter Eight

  Alice was glad for the chance to sit down. Being whirled around by a man so much taller than she was had knocked the breath out of her, and she wondered if there was a polite way to ask Ranse to take things a little slower for their next dance. The thought of that next dance made her feel lightheaded, but in the best possible way—she couldn’t wait for the music to begin again so she could return to his arms.

  “Alice?”

  She looked up to see Titus Ross standing next to her chair. “Hello, Titus. How are you?”

  “I’m well.” He rocked back on his heels, looking a little uncomfortable. “I noticed you dancing with the deputy. Did you . . . arrive together, or . . .”

  “Oh, no. I came with one of the girls from the boarding house.”

  “So . . . you weren’t escorted?”

  “No, I wasn’t.” Although this might have been easier if she had.

  A weight seemed to be lifted off his shoulders, and he smiled. “I wonder if I might ask for a dance.” He held out his hand, but before she gave him her dance card, she paused.

  “I need to be frank with you, Titus. I wasn’t escorted here by the deputy, but he did ask for each of my dances the remainder of the night. I’m sure he was in jest, though—you choose which dance you’d like, and it’s yours.”

  Titus slowly shook his head. “No, ma’am, I can’t imagine that he’d joke about something like that. If he asked for every dance, that’s what he’d really like. Is . . . is that what you’d like?”

  This was quite terrible. Alice had gone for a number of months without any beau at all, and now she was faced with two of the best men she’d ever known—it all seemed so unfair. But she had to make a choice, and it truly wasn’t a contest—she’d known since she first saw the deputy that he would become very special to her, and everything that had happened since then had only confirmed it.

  “I’m sorry, Titus, but yes, I believe the deputy and I are coming to an understanding. Nothing’s been said, but . . .”

  He nodded. “But sometimes things don’t need to be said.”

  “That’s right. Thank you for asking me, though—I’m deeply flattered.”

  Titus gave a short bow. “No flattery needed at all. I wish you the best.”

  He melted into the background, and Alice fanned herself with her dance card. Oh, that had been hard. She didn’t want to hurt Titus—he’d been a good friend to her, and he was such a kind man. Had she said the right thing? Had she been as gentle and respectful as she wanted to be? Saying no to Titus was entirely different from turning down Mr. Bonham—they couldn’t be compared in any way, and she was a bit chagrined to realize it was easier to pull a gun than to know if she’d used the right words. She should probably work on expanding her skills.

  Ranse returned, a delicate cup of punch in each hand, and she took hers gratefully. Her throat was dry and scratchy.

  “I noticed Titus Ross speaking with you a moment ago,” Ranse said. He didn’t ask any questions, but she could tell from his tone that he was curious.

  “Yes. He was asking me for a dance.”

  “Oh? What did you tell him?”

  “That my card was full.”

  Ranse smiled. “Did he take it well?”

  “He was disappointed, but he behaved like a gentleman.”

  “As he would. Titus is a good man.” Ranse finished his punch, then waited for Alice to finish hers. Then he handed both cups to a passing waiter. “May I invite you outside? The moon is quite striking, and I feel we should take advantage of it.”

  Alice slipped her arm through his and followed him out the side door of the ballroom. He was right—it was as though the moon had taken up the entire night sky, and the effect was breathtaking. It was also nice to stand in the cool air and feel the breeze lift tendrils of hair from her neck.

  Ranse took her hand in his and led her over to a small bench off to the side, inviting her to sit. Then he sat next to her and reached into his breast pocket, withdrawing a small book.

  “I’m told that poetry is an effective way to woo a woman,” he said, “but I’m also told that moonlight is the real secret ingredient. Here we are, in the moonlight, and I’ve brought you a book of poetry. Tobias Redfern chose it out and I collected it on my way here tonight—you have every chance of liking it. I hope.”

  Alice smiled. She hoped she didn’t look too giddy—her senses were on fire, and it was hard to draw in a measured breath. She needed to stay calm. She could be misinterpreting this entire conversation—he could be leading up to something else altogether. Like what, she didn’t know, but she had to leave some room there for disappointment.

  Ranse pressed the book into her hand. “I won’t pretend to be a great scholar and read you a smattering of the best pieces from this volume, but I will say this. Alice, I hardly know what’s become of me the last few days. You’ve taken over my every thought a
nd my every dream. Your beautiful face is all I can see when I close my eyes. You have your choice of other men and I honor and respect that, but Alice, would you do me the honor of choosing me?”

  She couldn’t speak for a moment. Her throat had closed and she couldn’t force out a sound. She studied his eyes, noticing how green they were in the moonlight, and how very sincere. Finally, she was able to swallow, and she said, “Of course I choose you, Ranse. You’re written on every line of my dance card—anything else would be impossible.”

  He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, tipping her chin up with his other hand. He tasted like punch, but also like pine trees and strength and forever.

  When he let her go, he rested his forehead against her and just breathed, soaking in the moment. “When, Alice? When will you marry me?”

  “As soon as I can write to my parents and get them here,” she replied.

  He leaned back on his heels and took her hands again. “I promise, I’ll make you happy. We’ll build a home together, and whatever happens to your eyesight, we’ll figure it out together.”

  She had so much to tell him—Mrs. Morgan’s purchase of the sewing machine was certainly shareworthy—but before she could begin to catch him up, she heard a shout, and Ranse came to his feet.

  “Hawkins! Where the blazes are you?”

  “Here!”

  KC Murray came charging down the path, drawing up short when he saw Alice. “Beg pardon, Miss Givens—I can tell that I’m interrupting something, but there’s a problem out at the Kilpacks’ place, and I need my deputy.”

  “Of course. Go.”

  Ranse bent down, gave Alice another quick kiss, and said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Then he was striding after KC, already shifting back into his role as deputy.

  Alice sat there alone for a moment, reliving that wonderful kiss and every wonderful word that had led up to it. Then she stood, gathered up her skirts, and went back inside. The ball might be over for her, but she could help in some way—perhaps the refreshment table needed some tending.

  ***

  Ranse shoved his hat on his head as he followed KC around to the front of the building. The marshal had brought Ranse’s horse along, which would save Ranse precious minutes. They mounted up and urged their horses into a run in the direction of the Kilpacks’.

  “What’s going on?” Ranse called out over the sound of horse hooves.

  “Some armed men broke into the house, tied the Kilpacks up, and ransacked the place,” KC yelled. “The cook was in the cellar, came upstairs, saw what was going on and managed to sneak out and come for help. She says the men are sitting around the kitchen table, drinking Kilpack’s good whiskey and playing cards. Says it sounds like they’re waiting for someone to join them.”

  Tied them up and robbed them? That sounded a lot like the case they’d had just a few days previous, and Ranse wasn’t about to believe it was a coincidence. He spurred his horse to go faster, hoping beyond hope that they’d get there before the robbers left.

  When they reached the edge of the property, they saw four horses tied up outside the house, and they brought their own to a walk. With any luck, they’d be able to approach without being detected, and they could burst in and make some arrests with minimal injury.

  They draped their horses’ reins over the porch railing, knowing the animals would stay and not wanting a tight knot in case they needed to make a fast getaway. Then they crept onto the porch, sliding their feet carefully, trying not to make a sound.

  A gunshot rang out, and Ranse felt his hat get yanked from his head.

  “That was just a warning,” a lazy voice said. “We can see you a lot easier than you can see us—I’d turn around and leave if I were you.”

  “But they’re not you,” a second man replied. “I think they’re gonna try to be heroes. They look like the hero type, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, they do, and that’s unfortunate because it’s the hero types who tend to get themselves killed.”

  Ranse looked over at KC. Both men had frozen in a crouch as they crossed the porch, and it seemed there was nowhere for them to go.

  “What do you want?” KC called out.

  “Well, for starters, I think you could toss your pistols into the grass.”

  Ranse was carrying three pistols, so the loss of one wouldn’t hurt him too badly. He assumed KC was similarly armed, but he knew from a great deal of experience that assuming was a dangerous thing to do. “And then what?” he asked. “Are the Kilpacks all right?”

  “Well, sure they are,” the first voice responded. “We’re a lot of things, Deputy, but we’re not murderers. Soon as we leave, you can head in there and untie them, and everything will be as right as rain.”

  “I think you forgot something, boss,” the second man said. “We did kill that one fellow. He was different though, wasn’t he? There was something about him that made him special . . . like killing him was no big deal.”

  “That’s right. If I recall, he was a sheriff or something, wasn’t he? No harm in killing a sheriff . . . It’s the everyday people we try not to kill.”

  Ranse glanced at KC again. It was obvious their robbers were trying to intimidate them, but the effort seemed a bit juvenile.

  “And I might find it easier than usual to kill this particular deputy.” The second voice came a little closer, then stopped. “Yessir, this one has caused me some trouble lately.”

  Ranse nodded. He’d recognized the voice almost immediately, but he’d wanted to be sure. “It’s a shame about you, Juke. You’re going to give miners a bad name.”

  “Who wants to work in the mine when this whole town just seems ripe for the picking?” Juke didn’t sound like he was approaching, but his voice did become louder. “A couple more hits and we’ll be on our way—just some out-of-luck men looking for work in the next town. And if the two of you happen to be missing, well, that’s all the better for us.”

  If they weren’t planning to do away with the Kilpacks, they must have worn masks or bandanas so they wouldn’t be identified. Ranse was grateful that their main goal was robbery—if everything went according to their plan, the Kilpacks would still be alive at the end of it, and that’s how it should be.

  He tried not to think too much about what might happen to him and KC.

  ***

  “Did I hear correctly—did the deputy get called out on a case?” Mrs. Morgan asked, coming up beside Alice.

  “Yes, that’s right. The marshal seemed a little rattled, and I’m worried that it’s something serious.”

  “I’m sure it is—otherwise, he wouldn’t be interrupting your nice evening. That is, if he knows what’s good for him.” Mrs. Morgan shook her head. “I’m the first to say I’m grateful for our law enforcement and the good care they take of us, but it does become frustrating when we’re trying to hold a fancy dance and they’re riding off to who knows where.”

  Alice had to agree.

  “Well, we’ll make do the best we can. What do you think of my event? Is it everything I said it would be?”

  “It’s a beautiful ball, Mrs. Morgan, and I can see why you’re so proud. It’s the perfect venue for falling in love.” Alice paused, wondering if she should say something or if she should tuck her news away. She didn’t think she’d be able to keep it a secret for long, so she gave herself permission to share. “Ranse proposed right before he left.”

  Mrs. Morgan grasped Alice’s hand. “He did? Oh, that’s wonderful! You said yes, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Mrs. Morgan let go of Alice and clasped her hands under her chin, her fan wildly swinging to and fro on her wrist. “I couldn’t be happier. The two of you were truly meant to be together—I feel that all the way to my bones. Have you set the date?”

  “We were discussing it when KC arrived. We’d like to do it as soon as possible—I’d like my parents to be here, so whenever they’re able to come.”

  “I’m sur
e they’ll be on the very first train as soon as they hear from you.” Mrs. Morgan leaned forward and gave Alice a little hug. “This is everything I could have wanted for you. I am left with a question, though—can I take credit for this match or not? Yes, the proposal happened here at my ball, but you met each other without me.”

  “You may take all the credit you like. I’m sure it doesn’t matter to us one way or the other.”

  “All right, then. I’ll say you became engaged while attending my event. That’s not stretching the truth at all, and yet it gives the impression that I was a little more involved than I actually was.”

  Alice laughed. “That sounds perfect.”

  She sat by the door and listened to the orchestra, then wandered around and watched the dancers, then stood in the outside doorway and looked up at the moon again. She was doing everything she could to keep herself occupied, but it didn’t look like Ranse was coming back, and she didn’t think she should wait all night for him—especially because her eyes were growing weary. Her friend from the boarding house had been escorted home by a nice young man she’d danced with a few times, so Alice would just wait until Mrs. Morgan left and ask for a ride home.

  If she could manage to stay awake that long.

  The sound of a footstep caused her to turn, and she saw Titus walking up behind her.

  “Hello again, Alice,” he said. “I noticed that the deputy hasn’t returned yet, and I wondered if you’d like an escort home. Just as a friend—I won’t speak of my romantic feelings again.”

  Alice smiled. “I believe you’ve come along at exactly the right time. Yes, please—take me home, and thank you.”

  They didn’t say much on the way back to the boarding house, but that wasn’t Titus’s nature anyway. She thanked him again before he walked away, hoping that someday, he’d find a sweet girl who would love him and appreciate him the way he deserved.