"Thank goodness," Rose whispered. "You're the first person I recognize."
"Same here," Violet said. "I wouldn't be here, but Miss Settle fell ill and forced me to come in her place."
As Harvey and George fell into conversation, Daisy Randolph came over to add her welcome, and Violet began to feel a little better. She didn't feel so badly outshone. Rose was beautifully gowned, but Daisy wore a gown of even plainer design than Violet's dress.
"Iris and Monty will be down in a little while," Daisy told Rose. She laughed. "She's still trying to decide which gown to wear. Monty can't make up his mind which one he likes best."
"She'll look beautiful no matter what she wears," Violet said.
"No lovelier than you," Harvey said.
"Wait until you see her," Violet told him.
Iris appeared a few minutes later wearing a white silk gown embroidered with hundreds of pearls. A magnificent set of emeralds, especially chosen to match her eyes, flashed from her throat and earlobes. Her face was perfect as always, but every eye in the room was drawn to her hair. Swept up on her head and held in place by a series of emerald-studded pins, it cast every woman in the room into insignificance.
"I have never seen such hair," Rose mused aloud.
"Violet's hair is just as beautiful," Harvey said.
Violet knew he couldn't mean it -- no one could, not after seeing Iris -- but it made her smile with pleasure. She wondered what Jeff would have said. No, she didn't. Jeff was a pragmatist. He might prefer Violet, but he would be the first to admit Iris was a beauty without peer.
"I was feeling quite pleased with myself until now," Rose told Iris as she greeted her with a kiss. "You make me feel positively dowdy."
"She's a corker, isn't she?" Monty said, practically bursting with pride.
"I'm sure she's the best looking woman in Colorado," Rose assured him. "Now get her out of my sight, or I'll be depressed for the rest of the evening. Come, George. Dance with me and tell me how beautiful I am."
George took his wife's hand. "You know I've always thought so."
"I know," Rose said smiling up at him, "but it's easier to believe when Iris isn't around."
"That's right," Iris said in mock anger, "make me feel like the plague."
"Come dance with me," Monty said. "I'll whisper sweet nothings in your ear."
"You're more likely to bite it and cause me to squeal," Iris said, flushing with pleasure.
"Not a bad idea," Monty said, leading his wife away.
"Why don't you dance with Daisy?" Violet said to Harvey. "I still need some time to catch my breath."
"Thanks, but I'm waiting for Tyler," Daisy said, "though I may have to go fetch him from the kitchens. Would you believe he's actually tasting sauces and peering into ovens in a starched shirt and tails?"
The next hour passed rather pleasantly for Violet. Harvey proved to be an attentive date and pleasant conversationalist. Except when she tried to talk to him about her claim.
"I always keep business for the office. Tonight is for fun."
When she wasn't dancing, she spent the time with the Randolphs. Gradually her mood improved. It was impossible not to be cheerful with Iris and Monty around. Tyler finally emerged from the kitchen to make Daisy's evening complete. It didn't take long for Violet to realize all three Randolph couples were completely, hopelessly in love. Fern and Madison were no different. He had stayed home because she couldn't come.
Randolph men obviously made good husbands. It just took the right key to unlock their hearts. She wondered if she would ever manage to unlock Jeff's heart. Feeling a little too blue to be around all this happiness, Violet excused herself to go to the ladies' lounge.
* * * * *
The first person Jeff saw when he entered the hotel was Philip Rabin. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn Philip had been waiting for him.
"You not dressed for a ball," Philip said making no attempt to hide his dislike for Jeff. "Maybe you think your money is enough." Philip looked pointedly at Jeff's empty sleeve. "Then I guess not even money is enough to make up for that empty sleeve flapping at your side."
Jeff's fist curled into a tight ball, a fact Philip didn't miss.
"You'd love to hit me, wouldn't you?" Rabin taunted. "But not even smashing my face will keep you from being a cripple for the rest of your life. You'll never get a woman to dance with you."
Jeff had never understood his father's black rages until now. He would have liked nothing better than to kill Philip Rabin with his bare hand. It took physical effort to keep from driving his fist into the man's leering face.
"What the hell do you want?" Jeff snapped.
"Just to welcome you to the ball," Philip said.
"I'm not here for the ball. I came to see my brothers on business."
"Afraid to put it to the test?"
"What the hell are you talking about now?"
Vicious triumph glittered in Rabin's eyes. "Afraid to see whether the women are more attracted to your money than they are repulsed by your stump?"
Jeff's hand shot out and closed around Rabin's throat. Pushing him into a corner behind several large potted plants and out of sight of the guests, Jeff gradually increased the pressure on the man's windpipe. Rabin didn't look so confident.
"I could strangle you and leave your body here. Nobody would find you for hours."
Rabin's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
"I don't know why you're doing this, but I'll be gone inside half an hour. Why don't you go to the bar and have a drink."
Jeff released Rabin and walked away without a backward glance.
* * * * *
Violet didn't want to return to the ballroom just yet. She wanted a few more minutes to herself. She found a quiet corner behind a row of potted palms. Settled into the deep, chair, she was able to truly relax for the first time all evening.
She wondered what Jeff was doing. Working, of course. He never did anything else. She wondered why he had let himself be maneuvered into inviting her to this ball. She couldn't see him spending the evening dancing and making idle conversation.
But she could easily picture herself spending the evening with him, his arm around her waist, his body close to her own, his handsome face smiling down on her. She would have forgotten her dress, that she didn't know anybody, that she felt dreadfully out of place. She would have been with Jeff. Nothing else would have mattered.
She wished now she had accepted his invitation. Then she could be just as happy as Rose, Iris, and Daisy. Instead she was hiding behind a palm, trying not to let everybody know she'd rather be almost anywhere but here.
She became aware of voices. She ought to go back. But even as she started to rise, she recognized Clara Rabin's voice. Hoping she could escape without having to greet a woman she disliked, Violet stayed where she was.
"I don't know what she thinks she's doing here," Clara was saying. "Even she must know she doesn't belong."
Violet couldn't quite hear all of the other woman's response, but she did catch the last part.
"...wearing a dress. Surely she knows the difference between a party and a ball."
"What can you expect of a housemother?" Clara Rabin responded. "Besides, it's probably the best she has. I doubt she's ever owned a gown."
Violet's body stiffened. They were talking about her!
"Then she had no business coming. I can't imagine why Harvey invited her."
"It's probably that red hair," Clara said, thinly disguised scorn in her voice. "You've seen the way the men are making fools of themselves over that Iris Randolph."
"You have to admit she's quite striking."
"Brazen, more like it, but Little Miss Housemother doesn't have those kind of looks to recommend her."
"Harvey seems quite entranced with her."
"He won't be when he learns she was throwing herself at Jeff Randolph just a short time ago."
"I don't believe it! Everybody knows he can't stand Yankees."
"Told you what?"
"Jeff got himself caught at the school during the quarantine. I don't know how, but it had something to do with those horrible nieces of his. Anyway, this Goodwin woman kept throwing herself in his way the whole time. Every time he emerged from his room, she was there. She pretended she was protecting the girls, but even my thirteen-year-old daughter could see through that. She kept sending the girls to their rooms. She had dinner with him upstairs. Twice."
"Jeff Randolph! I don't believe it."
"Betty Sue doesn't lie!"
"I don't mean that," her friend hastened to assure her. "I simply can't imagine how she managed to corner him. I would have thought he'd climb out the window first."
"She wouldn't let him," Clara said, delighted to be able to throw in the clincher. "She told him she'd have him arrested if he tried to leave."
"Good God!"
"Apparently she didn't give up even after the quarantine was over. My husband says she pursued him to his office, his brother's ranch, even here at the hotel. The man isn't safe from her."
"How did she meet Harvey?"
"He's handling some kind of mine claim for her. Philip says it's worthless. She's probably just using it to get her hooks into him."
"She seems to have been successful. She appears to be on terms with the Randolphs as well. Do you think she still has hopes of catching Jeff?"
"I'd be more interested in knowing how she talked Harvey into inviting her this evening."
"I'm here in Miss Settle's place," Violet announced as she emerged from behind the palm. "She was taken ill yesterday afternoon."
The two women reacted with shock. The second woman's was genuine. It took Violet only a moment to realize Clara Rabin's was feigned. She had known Violet was there all along. She must have seen her enter the lounge and followed her, intending all along for Violet to overhear every word she had to say.
For a moment Violet was so angry she couldn't speak. Then as the two women stammered apologies, she managed to get control of her temper. Nothing would make Clara happier than to see Violet upset. She was determined to deny her that pleasure.
"As for getting my hooks into a rich husband, I haven't decided which one I want yet. You ladies know them both so much better than I do. Which one would you recommend? A woman does have to be careful, you know."
Violet had the pleasure of seeing Clara Rabin gape.
"I understand Jeff Randolph has a lot more money, but he is a cripple. On the other hand, Harvey's older. He's not likely to live as long. I think he might appreciate a young and pretty wife more than Mr. Randolph. What do you think?"
"I think you're the most brazen fortune-hunter I've ever come across," Clara said.
"As good as you?" Violet cooed. "Why I'm truly flattered."
"You'll never catch anything in that dress," Clara said, struggling to make a comeback.
"I'll catch exactly what I came to catch," Violet snapped, her anger flashing from her eyes. "Nothing. Oh, close your mouth, Clara. You look like a landed fish. You can both relax. I'm not here to make off with any of your men. But if I were, you wouldn't stop me." Violet turned to leave.
"I haven't given you permission to use my first name," Clara Rabin said. "And don't turn your back on me. I haven't finished talking to you."
Violet didn't look back.
"You won't marry Jeff Randolph regardless of how much you play up to his family," Clara sneered, following Violet. "You can't fool me. You don't want Harvey. He doesn't have a tenth of Jeff's wealth. You only came with Harvey because you thought Jeff would be here and you could make him jealous. Everybody here knows it. They're laughing at you."
Violet stopped and turned around. "And how do they know it, Clara?" Violet asked, her voice more calm than she felt.
"Because I told them," Clara stated, defiantly.
Suddenly Violet could stand no more. She no longer wanted to defy Clara Rabin or anybody else. She just wanted to get out of the lounge before she burst into tears. She had to leave the ball. She had to go home. She didn't know what she would tell Harvey, but she couldn't stay a minute longer.
She turned on her heel. Clara started to follow, but her friend reached out and grabbed her arm.
"Let her go. I think you've said enough."
"I haven't said nearly enough," Clara declared.
Violet didn't know how she found her way back to Harvey. She didn't care that an angry Clara Rabin followed in her wake. Violet wanted only to reach Harvey and ask him to take her home before tears overcame her.
Harvey saw her coming, broke off his conversation, and turned to her. Violet took his arm and stood close so she could whisper her request in his ear. Just then Jeff stepped forward from where he'd been talking to George.
Chapter Twenty-three
Violet stared at Jeff in horror. Her heart almost stopped beating. She could see the shock on his face, the immediate calcification of his smile. She knew she ought to say something, but she couldn't think of a single word that wouldn't condemn her. Knowing Clara Rabin was right behind her, ready to misinterpret anything she might say -- as well as broadcast her misinterpretations to everyone in the ballroom -- rendered her nearly speechless.
Clinging to Harvey, she said, "I'm not feeling well. I'd like to go home."
"Are you sick?" Rose asked.
"Maybe you ought to lie down first," Iris suggested. "The carriage ride might make you feel even worse."
Violet's gaze flew to Jeff. She saw no sympathy or concern in his expression. Only hurt and anger. She saw him withdraw into himself, pull back beyond her reach. Everything left was hard, impenetrable.
"Thank you, but I'd rather go home."
"Why don't you take her, Jeff?" Rose suggested. "You weren't going to stay anyway."
Violet couldn't stop herself from glancing up at Jeff. She hoped her face didn't show how much she hoped he would accept Rose's suggestion. She desperately wanted a few minutes alone with him.
"She came with Harvey," Jeff said. "I wouldn't think of intruding."
He sounded icily polite, but his words might as well have been dipped in poison. He had absolutely no intention of leaving the hotel with her. Violet had never seen him look so hurt, so baffled, or so icily indifferent. It made her heart ache to look at him. It made her heart sink to think she was the cause of it.
Obviously Miss Settle's note hadn't explained the situation clearly. This wasn't a good time to attempt to justify herself, but she had to try.
"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here when--"
Blue fury flashed from his eyes. "I never wonder about Yankees," he said, cutting her off. "I know they're capable of anything."
Through the hurt and humiliation, Violet felt herself begin to get angry. He was condemning her without giving her a chance to explain. He was just assuming again, like he always did when he was hurt. "Surely you don't think I would--"
"Nor do I concern myself with their motives," he interrupted again, crushing her effort to explain her presence. "Why look for honor where you know it doesn't exist?"
Violet's temper flared up. She didn't know why he should think he was the only one with feelings, or the only one who could be hurt. She was tired of his self-absorption. As much as she loved him, she wondered if he'd ever be able to think of anyone before himself.
"You wouldn't know honor if it bit you on your stump," Violet flashed.
"Oh, so you did notice my stump?" Jeff said, waving his sleeve at Violet.
"How could I help but notice it?" Violet snapped, "when it seems to be the sum total of your existence. I can't imagine a more appropriate symbol of your life. A perfect creation damaged in its prime, carefully preserved in its altered form for the creation and preservation of misery for all."
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With a sob, Violet grabbed her shawl and ran from the room.
* * * * *
Jeff watched Violet bolt from the room, Harvey McKee following in her wake. He couldn't believe he was standing here, calmly pretending he didn't hurt worse than the afternoon he lost his arm, pretending he wasn't coldly furious. Any other time he would have stormed about, created a terrible scene, embarrassed everyone within earshot. This time he just embarrassed his family.
But he couldn't help it. The pain inside was so deep, so intense, he felt like it was tearing him apart. He didn't want anyone to know Violet Goodwin didn't want to dance with a one-armed man.
He didn't want anybody to know he loved her.
Rose turned on Jeff, her brown eyes ablaze with fury. "I thought I had seen you at your worst, but that was the most despicable thing I've ever seen a Randolph do. I've always said you were spoiled, rude, and utterly thoughtless, but I wouldn't have believed you could be wantonly cruel. You should be beaten for what you did. If we weren't in public, I'd hit you myself."
"Go ahead. One of us ought to feel better."
"Spare me your self-pity," Rose snapped.
"I hope she isn't really sick," Iris said, attempting to fill the awkward silence that followed. "I thought she was in good spirits."
"She certainly seemed to be enjoying the dancing," Monty said.
"Why wouldn't she with all those men crowding around her?"
So she had enjoyed the dance. There could be no other explanation. Despite everything she said about her brother, when it came right down to it, she wasn't any different from any other woman.
He wondered what she would have said if he hadn't surprised her. She'd probably have had some perfectly logical reason why she couldn't dance with him. But he hadn't given her time to think. She had been too shocked to hide her real feelings.
Jeff felt cold and empty inside. He hadn't allowed himself to believe it, but he had fallen in love with Violet. He had denied the attraction from the moment he met her. He had told himself he invited her to dinner because he didn't want to waste food. He had told himself he was protecting her from Miss Settle. He had told himself any number of lies to account for his desire to be with her, to be able to look at her, to touch her, to kiss her.
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