by Cat Cahill
Eli stood straighter, his heart soaring at the fact that she seemed truly happy to see him. “Good evening again, Miss Hill,” he said formally.
“I’d wondered where you’d gotten off to.” Molly stood, ankle seemingly forgotten. “Gentlemen, this is a dear friend of mine from home—”
“Eli Jennings,” Eli said before she could identify his line of work. He figured he might get farther in his conversations with the men his father had done business with if they didn’t think he was investigating them on behalf of the law. The men nodded at him, some introducing themselves. When Eli finally turned back toward Molly, she was engaged in conversation with a Mr. Browning. Her smile appeared forced again, however, and that was enough to satisfy Eli. Now if he could only figure out how to engage Preston in conversation enough to determine if he knew anything about the supposed debts Eli’s father owed.
“Jennings,” Preston mused next to him. “Are you by chance related to the late Theodore Jennings? The one who ran the lumberyard?”
Or perhaps this wouldn’t be hard at all. “Yes, he was my father. I believe he might have done some business with your company?”
“Indeed—” Preston stopped speaking as something over Eli’s shoulder caught his eye.
Eli turned, following Preston’s line of sight until his eyes landed on Molly, dancing a waltz with the man called Browning. Jealousy snaked its way through Eli. He tried to shrug it off. Molly could dance with whomever she chose, after all. But he couldn’t shake the envy. More than anything, Eli wanted it to be him she chose to dance with.
Of course, that meant he’d need to ask her.
“That snake,” Preston said as he watched the couple. “He knew I had the next dance with her.” The man’s eyes narrowed as he took in the people surrounding them in the ballroom. They landed on a pair of ladies—sisters by the looks of them—standing nearby. “Come,” he said to Eli.
Not entirely certain what they were doing, Eli followed the few steps to where the sisters stood. He needed only a few more moments with Preston. Maybe after he’d finished his chat with these women, Eli could find out more about his father’s business dealings with Preston’s company.
“Ladies, might I introduce Mr. Jennings?” Preston said, a winning smile on his face and his dark blue eyes twinkling even as the light in the room reflected off his half-bald pate. “Mr. Jennings, this is Miss Tucker and Miss Tucker. Their father is in the state government.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Eli said. The girls smiled at him, one hiding her face behind a fan. They were tall and willowy, with hair the color of sand and complexions that looked as if they’d never seen the sun.
“Would you ladies like to dance?” Preston held out a hand to the nearest sister as if she would never consider saying no. And she didn’t, taking his hand.
“I’d love to,” the second sister said, glancing up from her fan to Eli.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted to do. In fact, he’d hoped he could make it through this event without dancing at all—except perhaps with Molly. But now this young lady was looking at him with expectant eyes. To decline after Preston so much as asked for him would be the height of rudeness, and so Eli took Miss Tucker’s hand and led her to the dance floor.
Around they went, Miss Tucker trying valiantly to keep the conversation going and Eli’s eyes constantly finding Molly. Did she look happy? He couldn’t tell from this distance.
“Did you try the mint ice cream?” Miss Tucker asked, her fan bumping his arm from where it hung about her wrist. “It’s divine.”
“I haven’t,” Eli replied. They were a little closer to Molly and her dance partner now. Eli furrowed his forehead as he watched them. She was not smiling as most of the ladies dancing were. Browning had leaned forward and was whispering in her ear.
Eli ground his teeth together. What was he saying to her?
The waltz took Molly out of his line of vision. But as soon as they turned again, his eyes found her right away. She was shaking her head at Browning, the frown still fixed on her face. It wasn’t like Molly to look so upset during conversation. She was kind to everyone; it was something he admired about her.
“Mr. Jennings? Is something the matter?” Miss Tucker was looking in Molly’s direction too.
“I’m afraid it is.” And just as the words left his mouth, Molly pushed a hand against Browning’s chest. Eli twisted his head to see Browning cling even tighter to Molly’s other hand and her waist. Anger as hot as blue fire tore through Eli.
“Pardon me,” he said through a clenched jaw to Miss Tucker. It was as if he’d lost all control of his actions as he strode toward Molly and Browning. He pushed in between them, and without a second thought, he raised a fist and landed it square against Browning’s jaw.
Chapter Nine
Molly gasped. Where had Eli come from? Mr. Browning reeled backward, narrowly missing another dancing couple, a hand flying to his jaw. And Eli stood there, in front of Molly, his fist poised to strike again.
The music continued to play, but the other dancers had begun to form a circle around them. Snippets of their words floated to Molly’s ears.
“What happened?”
“Did he hit Browning?”
“Who is that?”
But Molly’s attention remained on Eli, who kept her shielded from Mr. Browning—the man who’d gone from friendly to forceful when he suggested they converse in another room and she’d declined. Eli had seen her fear, somehow. And now here he was, ready to defend her again.
Ready to become the subject of gossip among all of Denver’s finest families.
Molly took a step forward, reaching for his outstretched arm. “Eli—”
“What was that about?” Mr. Browning had apparently recovered from the blow. Molly peered around Eli to see the man stepping forward, a hand to his jaw still.
“You know.” Eli spoke as if he’d swallowed pebbles.
Mr. Browning dropped his hand as he worked his jaw. “You misunderstood, although I appreciate your intentions. I promise nothing was amiss.” He glanced at the people surrounding them, quiet especially now that the music had stopped. “Nothing was amiss,” he announced again.
Bits of quiet chatter arose, but the crowd did not disperse. And Eli didn’t move a muscle.
Mr. Browning eyed Eli’s fist, which was still raised. “A dance with ladies is no place for fisticuffs.”
Molly couldn’t see around Eli, but from his quick, steady breathing, she imagined he was making a decision. She prayed it was the right one. “Eli,” she said in a voice meant for his ears only. She wanted to place a hand on his arm, but she couldn’t—not unless she wanted to send tongues wagging more than they already would.
The seconds ticked by, and, slowly, he lowered his hand. He stepped forward. Mr. Browning flinched, but glancing at those watching, held his ground. He offered Eli a nervous smile.
“You so much as speak to Miss Hill again, I promise I’ll pick this up where we left off,” Eli said in a low voice.
“You would do well not to threaten me,” Mr. Browning replied, in a voice barely audible to Molly, much less the others around them. “But you needn’t worry. My interest in Miss Hill has waned considerably.”
Molly had never heard such beautiful words.
Eli eyed Browning for a moment before turning suddenly and stalking through the crowd. Molly went to follow him, only to run into her aunt’s outstretched arm.
“Give him a moment,” Aunt Ellen said as the music and dancing resumed.
Molly nodded, her breath caught in her throat as she watched Eli disappear from the room.
“Did that man hurt you?” her aunt asked, assessing Molly as if evidence would be visible on her dress or her face. “I can’t imagine Mr. Jennings overreacting in such a way. He doesn’t seem the sort.”
“He didn’t.” Molly tore her eyes from the door. “Mr. Browning was rather insistent I join him alone in another room.”
Aunt Ellen’s ey
es narrowed. “He’s a scoundrel. And I’ll ensure his mother hears of it. Come, you need a refreshment after that excitement.”
Molly stayed close to her aunt’s side for the next hour, declining dance invitations from the other men who hovered nearby. Aunt Ellen shooed them away, claiming Molly needed time to recover from the events of the evening. Molly was grateful. The last thing she could imagine right now was dancing, especially when she yearned to find Eli and thank him.
Finally, he reappeared in the ballroom. He kept near the wall, out of sight from party guests who would want to know more about what had happened.
Molly looked to her aunt, who nodded.
Molly gave her a grateful smile before walking around where most of the guests had gathered on her way to Eli.
“Molly,” he said when he saw her, a smile alighting his face. “Are you all right?”
“I am, thanks to you.” She paused in front of him as laughter sounded nearby. Another couple was just beyond them. “Might we go elsewhere?”
Eli nodded. “Better than becoming the talk of the town.” He slipped out the ballroom door, and after glancing about to ensure no one was watching, Molly followed.
Silently, Eli led the way downstairs. He peeked into rooms, but others occupied them already. “Outside?” he asked.
Molly nodded, and he pushed open the front door. The house was set back some from the road, with a small garden not yet in bloom and a pretty cast-iron gate at the street. When Molly had first arrived that evening, she thought she’d been transported away from Denver to some large city in the East.
There was a chill in the night air, as usual, and Molly wished she had her coat. At least the cool air kept everyone else inside.
“Here.” Eli removed his jacket and laid it around Molly’s bare shoulders.
“Thank you.” She snuggled into the coat. Not only was it warm, it also smelled of Eli—a mix of leather and freshly cut timber. She wanted to burrow her face into it, but settled instead for drawing it closely around her. “For both the coat and for rescuing me—again.”
He grimaced and gestured at a small iron bench that sat in the garden. “I shouldn’t have reacted in such a way.”
“You saved me from that lout,” Molly said as she sat on the bench. “His jaw will heal. Although I’m not sure his pride will.”
“I doubt I’ll be welcome at another one of these soirees,” Eli said, sitting next to her. “It’s just as well. I’m finding it rather tedious.”
Molly hid a smile behind the collar of Eli’s coat. “That’s too bad. You were the most interesting person in that ballroom.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I doubt that. After all, Mr. Carter enraptured you with his discussions of fruit orchards the other day.”
“True,” Molly said, unable to keep the giggle from her lips.
Eli smiled too, for a moment, before looking more serious. “At least Browning isn’t one of the men I need to speak with. I wouldn’t get a word out of him now. I fear the others won’t talk to me either.”
Molly’s heart felt as if someone had pricked it with a needle. He might have messed up any chance he had at figuring out who his father owed money to—all because of her. “I’m so sorry.”
Eli laid a hand on top of hers. “You have no need to apologize. What happened was not your fault, and I’m glad I was there to set him to rights.”
She swallowed hard and glanced down at his hand. He was being friendly . . . wasn’t he? Then why did she want so badly to turn her own hand so her palm would be facing his?
“Molly?”
She glanced up to find him watching her, a lock of his hair hanging in his eye, freed from the grease he must have used to keep the rest of his hair back. She smiled at it and, without letting herself think, reached up and brushed it back with her other hand. When she drew her hand away, she realized what she’d done. Warmth began to spread across her face. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly.
“Don’t be. That hair has been giving me fits all evening. It ought to be in fashion to wear a hat during these sorts of things,” he said with an impish grin.
She returned his smile, but her heart beat a little faster as she tried to puzzle out what exactly was happening. She withdrew her hand from under his in an effort to force her thoughts to assemble themselves into something that made sense.
Eli straightened, tugging at his vest, and that stubborn piece of hair fell into his eyes again. He brushed it away, and Molly bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“I might have an idea,” she said. Now that he wasn’t so close, she could think again.
“About . . .?”
“Your situation. But I need to think through it some more.” She pulled her hands inside the sleeves of his jacket to keep them warm as she waited for his response.
“All right. Might I call on you again, then? To discuss it in more detail,” he added in a hurry.
“Of course, please do.” Her heart felt strangely light, as if it might dance off on its own. “We ought to return to the party, before anyone misses us.”
“I doubt anyone will miss me,” he said with a crooked grin. And as he reached for her hand to help her up, Molly had one thought.
She would miss him.
Chapter Ten
On Tuesday morning, Eli found himself facing down the Blanchets’ dour butler again. He wondered if the man was capable of a smile. He’d be excellent in a game of cards. Eli declined being escorted to the parlor and kept his coat and hat; he had another plan for today.
Molly, in contrast to the butler, was a ray of sunshine when she descended the stairs. She wore a light blue dress without much ornamentation, but it wasn’t needed. The color was beautiful, but it was no comparison to the genuine smile that lit her face when she saw Eli.
She paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced at the butler. “Thank you, Stevens.”
The butler nodded and disappeared into the rear of the house, leaving them alone in the foyer.
“Good afternoon, Eli,” Molly said, her hand resting lightly on the intricately carved newel. “Aunt Ellen sends her greetings. She had another appointment today.” Molly paused. “I imagined I would find you in the parlor.”
Eli tapped his hat against his thigh. “I thought we might go for a stroll.”
Molly’s smile brightened her face all over again. Eli decided he might not mind standing here all day, just watching how such a small motion as a smile could lend a twinkle to her eyes and make a tiny dimple in her cheek come to life.
“What a wonderful idea. Let me retrieve my things, and we can go.” Molly swept past him, a rush of lavender. Eli wanted to close his eyes and breathe in the scent, or better yet, pull her into his arms. But he held firm, fingers gripping his hat so hard he feared he might dent it.
Molly returned, wrapped in a navy cloak with a matching hat tilted just so on her head. Eli led the way down the front steps to the sidewalk, where he offered her an arm. Molly took it, her eyes grazing his face just briefly before turning forward again. What he wouldn’t give to have her looking up at him like that all the time.
Eli clenched his jaw. His head was running off on flights of fancy. He needed to remain here, in this moment. First to discover what her idea was regarding his mother’s situation, and second . . . to find out if what he thought he saw in her expression or heard in her voice at the dance Saturday night was still there. Because for a moment, it seemed she might be seeing him the way he’d hoped for so long. If her voice went soft again, or if she regarded him as if he were the only man around as she did in the garden, he resolved to finally speak the words he’d been wanting to say for nearly a year.
“Shall we walk toward town?” Molly asked.
Eli nodded, and they turned right. Eli tried to push thoughts of her smile and her sweet voice to the back of his mind, so he could concentrate on something that didn’t involve his heart—his father’s supposed debts. “Might now be the time you enlighten me about your idea for
my mother’s situation?”
Molly looked up at him, excitement dancing in her dark eyes, which made all of those thoughts he’d tried to set aside threaten to consume him all over again. “Yes, I believe I could be of some help.”
Eli guided her around a crate that had been placed on the walkway in front of a house. “How is that?”
“What are the names of the men with whom you need to speak?”
“A Mr. Robert Trumball, Mr. Clinton Edwards, Mr. George Emerson, and Preston, of course. I didn’t get to talk with him about matters of business on Saturday.”
“Well . . . some of the men with whom you need to speak have some interest in . . .” She trailed off, chewing her lip, and then forged ahead. “They were among the men who wanted to dance with me Saturday evening.”
“Oh.” The knowledge thumped Eli against the skull. He knew that—of course he did, he was there, after all. But the reminder pinched like a bee sting.
“And so, I thought I could use my . . . standing with them to learn more for you. Well, three of them, anyway. Mr. Trumball is an elderly gentleman.”
“You want to interrogate your beaux on my behalf,” Eli said before he could carve the bluntness from his words. It was unlike him, to speak so plainly with Molly, and yet it was as if he couldn’t keep it inside.
“They aren’t my beaux,” Molly said, a tiny smile curving the ends of her lips. “And yes, since I have an audience with them, why shouldn’t I use that to help a friend?”
A friend. The words were like a smack in the face. Had he imagined all that had happened Saturday night, then? Eli’s head was muddled, and all he wanted to do was dunk it in a trough of cold water to clear the confusion.
“Yes,” he finally said, the word strained. “I’d be deeply grateful for whatever information you might be able to find.”
Molly beamed at him, seemingly oblivious to how hard it was for him to even get the words from his mouth. “Wonderful! I’ll let you know what I discover.”
