Jeff accompanied her to the door. He wanted to come in, but Violet wouldn't let him. "Hurry back to the hospital. You ought to be with your family tonight." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "You're a sweet man. Thanks for asking me."
He was mad. She could tell from his unbending attitude. Well she was sorry she hurt his feelings, but he would get over it. He'd soon realize she wasn't turning him down, just the chance to mingle with Denver society.
Besides, she had to admit she was a little afraid. Jeff belonged in the top echelon of society. Violet couldn't be certain he wouldn't be ashamed to be seen at the most prestigious social event of the season with a housemother. She wasn't even a teacher, just a hired nanny. The men were bound to snicker behind his back. She didn't even want to think of what the women would say.
She could stand many things. She couldn't stand for Jeff to be ashamed to be seen with her.
Once inside, Violet went immediately to a window. She watched him walk down the flagstone path toward the road, his step slow, reluctant. She knew she only had to change her mind, to call him, and he would turn back.
Jeff paused at the road, turned back to look at the building. Violet drew back. He stood there a long time, just staring.
"If Miss Settle had seen what I just saw, you'd be out on the street in a minute."
Violet jumped, startled by Beth's words. She hadn't even heard her enter the parlor. "What do you mean?" Violet asked, though she knew perfectly well.
"Miss Settle doesn't hold with the staff mixing with the families. She fired a teacher just before you came because she thought she was getting too familiar with one of the widowed fathers. If she'd seen you kiss Mr. Randolph, she'd have gone off in a dead faint."
"We did nothing improper," Violet insisted.
"I never said you did. I'm just warning you." Beth's frown changed instantly into a bright grin. "Now you tell me everything that happened. Miss Settle nearly had a fit when you and the twins didn't come back."
* * * * *
Jeff felt the old, familiar fears gnawing at the edges of this mind. He had never been able to accept any kind of refusal without thinking it was because something was wrong with him. His empty sleeve lay in his lap, a silent accusation which had lost none of its power to make him feel inadequate after all these years. Even when his reason told him it was nonsense, he couldn't shake the nagging fear.
At times like this he wished that ball had killed him. Would he never be able to escape from this perpetual feeling of being only part of a man?
He tried to make himself believe Violet had no reason for refusing other than the ones she had given him. He might not like them, but they were reasonable. Why couldn't he accept what she said and let it go? Why did he have to keep torturing himself?
Because he liked her more and more each day. He was afraid she was backing away. All his life he'd been rejecting people before they could reject him. Now he had to admit he had met a woman whose acceptance he wanted more than anything else on earth, and he was petrified she wouldn't give it. This was the first time she had refused him, but it was also the first time he'd tried to do anything more than kiss her.
He was afraid when it came to a more serious relationship, she would prefer someone like Harvey McKee. He always seemed to be turning up. Violet liked him. And why not? Harvey was rich, well liked by everybody, and he had both arms. There was no reason why she shouldn't like Harvey better than she liked him. He had nothing to offer except a rotten disposition, an uncertain temper, a missing arm.
He told himself to be sensible for once. He had finally accepted this family loved him for himself. Despite all the things he had said, they had turned to him tonight without hesitation. There had never been any feeling that he was less of a man than George or Madison or Monty or Tyler.
Violet had said he was the most capable man she knew. He hoped it was so. He wanted it to be so. A man like that wouldn't constantly look for ways to blame himself. He would live life without casting blame. He could do that. He would do that. He didn't want Violet to be disappointed in him.
* * * * *
Jeff lay still while his trainer worked the last heat from his muscles. He knew he had worked his body too hard, dangerously hard in fact, but he didn't care. He did everything dangerously hard these days.
"I know you don't like me telling you what to do," his trainer said, "but it's what you pay me for. And I wouldn't be doing my duty if I didn't warn you you're going to hurt yourself if you keep up like this."
"I know what's too much."
"Maybe when you're sitting at your desk, but when you get to lifting those weights, you push yourself too hard. It's like you're trying to punish yourself, see what it takes to break you."
Maybe he was. He wasn't very fond of himself right now. Maybe it was his way to punishing himself for liking Violet.
"At least take tomorrow off," his trainer said. "Your body needs some time to recover."
"We'll see," Jeff said. Work helped to keep his mind off Violet. But not even working around the clock could release the tension, dispel the sense that something was about to explode inside of him. Only brutal exercise could give him a few hours relief.
"Louise wants to know when you're coming to see her again."
Jeff had wondered how long it would take his trainer to get around to asking that. Jeff hadn't seen Louise since the night she sent him away. He knew his trainer had a soft spot for her. He was always hanging around her place. Jeff wondered how deep his interest went. He hoped he didn't love her. Louise was a good woman, but he doubted she'd consider settling down with one man, not even if that man wanted to marry her.
"Is she still holding my nights for me?"
"I don't know what she does with her time."
No, he hadn't thought so. It was just as well. "Tell her I don't know when I'll be back."
He hadn't felt any desire to return to Louise's bed. Violet occupied his mind to the exclusion of all other females.
Chapter Twenty-two
Violet stared at Miss Settle, her brain in a whirl. "But I can't go to the ball with Mr. McKee."
"I realize it would place you in a social circle completely beyond your experience," Miss Settle replied, her expression stiffly formal, "but it's only for one night. It had been my intention to attend as the school's representative, but I'm not up to it."
"But why me? Why not one of the teachers or someone more familiar with Denver society?"
"I made the same suggestion," Miss Settle said. Her gaze became disapproving as she turned to Harvey. "But Mr. McKee insists he will only go with you."
"What man wouldn't want to be seen with one of the prettiest women in Denver?" Harvey said. "Besides, I've never made any secret of the fact that I enjoy your company."
Miss Settle's expression became even more forbidding. "I wasn't aware you knew Mr. McKee, yet he tells me he's seen you several times at the school."
"He's handling my uncle's estate," Violet explained.
"So he told me," Miss Settle replied, her displeasure not mitigated in the least. "I hope it will soon be settled satisfactorily."
"There are several problems," Harvey said. "I expect it will take a while yet."
Miss Settle didn't appear pleased to hear that. "It won't do for people to think you're setting your cap for Mr. McKee. But I don't suppose attending one ball would be enough to start rumors, particularly not after I've explained to everyone you're only there as a substitute for me."
"I won't have anyone thinking I'm setting my cap for Harvey . . . Mr. McKee," Violet said, beginning to get angry. "I'm not even sure I want to get married."
"That's neither here nor there," Miss Settle said.
"You brought it up."
"Well, it's something that will be mentioned," Miss Settle said. "Mr. McKee's wife died about a year ago. He can't be expected to remain single for long. Any woman seen in his company is bound to become the object of speculation."
"Then I'm surprised you should ask me to atte
nd the ball in his company."
"I assure you no one will think anything improper," Harvey said. "Most of the people attending know you work for the school. When I explain Miss Settle is ill, they'll understand."
"I appreciate your concern," Violet said, "but I must ask you to choose someone else."
"It's too late," Miss Settle said. "I've already told him you'll go. Besides, there isn't time to get anyone else. The ball is tomorrow night."
Violet felt almost too weak to protest. She was to be ready to go to the biggest society ball of the year in only one day? Impossible. She had nothing even remotely resembling a ball gown. But that wasn't the worst. She couldn't go with Harvey after refusing Jeff.
"Thank you for thinking of me, Mr. McKee, but it's impossible for me to go with you. I've already told Mr. Randolph I couldn't go with him. I can't now show up with you."
"Mr. Randolph asked you to the charity ball!" Miss Settle exclaimed, as surprised as she was displeased. "Why should he do that?"
"I don't know. I didn't ask him."
"And you refused?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Violet thought it was none of Miss Settle's business, but she could see she would have to satisfy her curiosity if she was to keep her job. "I thought he did it out of a sense of duty. I would be very much out of place at a society ball. Besides, I have spent more than enough time away from my duties."
Miss Settle looked pleased with her answer. "Well, it can't be helped. Just make sure you comport yourself with discretion."
"You don't understand," Violet said, beginning to feel desperate. "If I go with Harvey, he'll think I don't like him."
Miss Settle's expression turned glacial. "And do you?"
"That's not the point," Violet said, as matter-of-factly as she could. "I can't go to the dance with someone else after refusing him. He'll feel insulted."
Miss Settle's expression relaxed a little. "If that's your only worry, you can ease your mind. I'll write him myself and explain you're going in my place. He'll understand."
Violet doubted it. "I'd rather Mr. McKee choose another companion."
"Miss Goodwin, I suppose you know we're in the process of raising money to build a boy's school."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And that we're also raising money for a hospital."
"Yes. Mr. Randolph told me about that." She shouldn't have mentioned Jeff. That only upset Miss Settle further.
"Well, Mr. McKee is the best fundraiser in Denver. He has an uncanny ability to encourage others to give more than they originally intended. Denver needs that school and that hospital. It is imperative you attend the ball with Mr. McKee."
If she hadn't heard it herself, Violet wouldn't have believed even Miss Settle was crass enough to make such a statement in front of Harvey.
"But Mr. Randolph--"
"I personally guarantee Mr. Randolph will understand," Miss Settle assured her. "Besides, no one has ever seen him on a dance floor. I can't imagine why he should have asked you."
Violet could think of nothing else to say. Clearly she either went, or she lost her job. She hoped Jeff would understand. She was relieved he wouldn't be there. She would go to his office as soon as she could and explain things to him. She didn't want to take a chance on him misunderstanding.
"Now I suggest you stop the foolish objections and see about getting yourself ready for this ball," Miss Settle said, dismissing Violet. "Most of the women who'll be there have been getting ready for weeks."
* * * * *
Clara Rabin finished reading the note. At first she nearly shook with anger. Gradually her expression became thoughtful. Then she smiled. She looked at the note once more then up at her husband who was eating his breakfast.
"Philip, I just received a note from Miss Settle. Violet Goodwin is going to the ball with Harvey McKee."
"I don't give a damn what that bitch does," Philip Rabin growled. He slammed his coffee cup down so hard some of the liquid spilled into the saucer.
"Eleanor Settle is ill. She's going in her place. I would have thought either Eleanor or Harvey could have found a more suitable escort, but that isn't the point."
"Then what is?" her husband demanded.
"According to Betty Sue, Jeff Randolph is sweet on Miss Goodwin."
"I told you never to mention that man's name in my presence again," Philip shouted. "When I think of the money he cost me, I could kill him."
"Miss Settle also said he asked Miss Goodwin to the ball. She refused."
"I don't believe it," Philip said. "Jeff never goes to balls."
"Eleanor got it from Miss Goodwin."
"I don't care where she got it. The bitch was probably lying."
"Suppose she wasn't. Suppose Jeff could see her at the ball, dancing and enjoying herself with another man, he'd be furious. You know how morbidly self-conscious he is about that stump."
"He won't be there."
"You can get him to come."
"How?"
"He'll do anything for that bank. After he gets there, you can needle him about women not liking him because of his arm. I'll take care of Miss Goodwin. She's a stiff-necked Puritan. I'll convince her everybody thinks she's running after Jeff. When we bring them together, she'll take one look at him and run the other way. If you say the right things, he'll think she can't stand him because he's a cripple."
Philip had stopped eating. "I'd like to see the bastard dead."
"You won't," Clara said. "But this will be almost as good. It'll eat at him for years."
"You really think it'll work?"
"It depends on your getting him to the ball. Can you?"
"Let me think about it."
* * * * *
"Why me?" the man asked.
"Because he'll be suspicious of anything I say."
"Why do you want to make a deal with him? Everybody knows you hate him."
"Money's money."
"I won't do it. You're up to something. I don't want him coming after me when he finds out I've misled him."
Philip dropped all pretense of friendliness. "Do it, or I yank the financing out from under your company."
The man blanched. "I can get more financing."
"Not before you lose ninety percent of what you've got."
The man attempted to defy Philip, but his resistance wilted under Philip's fierce gaze. "What do you want me to say?" he asked at last.
* * * * *
Violet groaned. She should have guessed the ball would be held at the Windsor Hotel. Jeff wouldn't be present to see her, but the rest of his family would.
"I don't care how many young sprigs want to dance with you, you're my date," Harvey McKee said, giving her hand a pat. "You can forget what Eleanor said. I'm not wasting my evening twisting arms for the hospital."
Violet couldn't help but be pleased with the compliment. She liked Harvey. He was exactly the kind of man most people would have thought suitable for a woman of her advanced years. But another man already held her heart. Even if Jeff never returned her feelings, she could never love Harvey.
"Please don't neglect your duty for me," she said.
"I'm not. I'm doing it for myself," Harvey said, tucking her arm more tightly in his. "I plan to enjoy the evening."
An evening she dreaded. Violet doubted society would look any more kindly on her being with Harvey than with Jeff, the two wealthiest, most eligible men in Denver.
She didn't want to leave the carriage. She had worn her most elegant dress, but the addition of a broach and shawl couldn't hide the fact it was still a dress. She imagined the women would look on her with pity. She offered up a silent prayer Harvey would soon settle the claim to her mine, and she would become rich enough to buy at least one decent gown before she left Denver. Not that she expected to be invited to another ball.
"It looks like everybody is here tonight," Harvey said, noticing the line of carriages behind them.
Violet stifled an insane impulse to gather
up her skirts and run back to the school as fast as she could. It was only five blocks away. Instead she took a deep breath, stepped down to the sidewalk, and allowed Harvey to escort her inside.
The hotel was already crowded. The entire lower floor had been opened up to form one huge room with spaces for people to sit, talk in small groups, and eat. There was plenty of space left for those who wished to dance. A small orchestra was already playing a slow, lilting tune Violet didn't recognize.
A brief survey of the women present convinced Violet half the wealth of the West was in this room tonight. Violet saw headdresses with ostrich feathers that swept the air for several feet in all directions; half the women seemed to have found a way to incorporate mink, ermine, sable, or silver fox into their dresses; gowns of silk, velvet, and satin shimmered in the light; jewels worth an emperor's ransom decorated the ears, throats, and bosoms of the cream of Denver society. The room buzzed with the sound of hundreds of voices.
Violet didn't see a single person she knew.
"A good gathering," Harvey said. He kept Violet close to his side as he moved through the room, greeting guests, introducing her as he went. Violet didn't mind that few people seemed to be interested in meeting her. She hoped no one would remember her face after this evening.
But the moment the orchestra stuck up a popular dance tune, that hope died a swift death.
Men converged on her from several directions. Fortunately, since shock held her mute, Harvey refused all requests. "I brought the lady, and I mean to get the first dance," he announced. "The first several as a matter of fact."
Harvey couldn't dance, and she wasn't much better. She explained most people in New England disapproved of dancing. He merely laughed and led her onto the floor for a second dance. After that, he turned her over to a succession of partners he selected with care.
Violet smiled to herself when she realized they were all either too young for her or puffing octogenarians old enough to be her grandfather. She used spotting Rose and George as an excuse to leave the dance floor before her present partner suffered a heart attack. She was extremely grateful when Rose greeted her like an old friend.
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