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

by Unknown

  “Of course I won’t be offended,” Sarah finally said. “We cannot condemn those born and raised to ignorance. We are nothing if not charitable.” She turned to the butler. “Winters, please tell him we shall be down presently.”

  The old man nodded and left the room. After a lengthy minute, the two women followed, with Marlena breaking into a wide grin when she entered the parlor and saw him standing there. Contrary to his prior visit, he wore clothes she’d seen him wear a hundred times in Virginia City. Plain brown trousers, white shirt with black vest, day coat and his hat. The only missing items were his pistols, for which she was grateful. Sarah might be accommodating when it came to etiquette ignorance, but a caller in her parlor with six shooters on his hips would never be permitted.

  His outfit reminded her how far apart the two worlds were, and which one she found more attractive. He looked sturdier than the dandies she saw every day, an unpolished gent with a little roughness about him and yet his visage was softened by the bouquet of yellow roses in his hand. Her first thought was to blush and bow, but she knew that would not be a fitting reaction for a close relative, so she crossed the room and threw herself at him. He caught her in a hug, nearly stumbling back at the unexpected contact.

  “Oh, cousin!” she exclaimed for his benefit. “How wonderful to see you again. Come, meet my patroness.” She grabbed his free hand and led him across the room to Sarah. “Miss Winthrop may I present to you my dearest cousin, lately from London en route to New Mexico, Mr. Dalton Cunningham.”

  Dalton whipped the flowers toward Sarah and flashed a wide smile, one that made Marlena’s knees slacken. “Miss Winthrop, so pleased to meet you. I’ve brought you these. Where I’m from, flowers are a sign of appreciation.”

  Sarah’s smile was genuine, and somewhat flirty, Marlena thought with a furrowed brow.

  “Why, thank you, young man,” Sarah cooed as she accepted the flowers. “And what, may I ask, do you appreciate me for?”

  “For taking in my dear cousin, of course, and all of your generosity on her behalf.”

  “Ah, well, it has been our pleasure,” Sarah said, casting a glance at Marlena. “Your cousin is quite talented.”

  “Indeed, she is,” Dalton returned, eyeing Marlena as well. With both pairs of eyes fixed on her, her gaze slid to the ground. “I’ve never heard a finer voice in all my life.”

  Sarah stiffened, but only in the spine. Her well-practiced smile never faltered, and Marlena worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Well, that is not surprising given your lack of exposure to the fine arts,” Sarah said.

  Marlena’s tiny grin fell against the sting of Sarah’s words and the fact she’d been put down in front of Dalton. The familiar feeling of inadequacy slithered through her insides, robbing her of the day’s earlier joys. Her profile burned from Dalton’s penetrating gaze. She didn’t have to look to know he studied her, but she kept her eyes down, not wanting him to see the hurt in her eyes.

  “Makes no difference to me or my opinion,” he said amiably. “I don’t need to see a hundred beautiful things to recognize one.” She felt his eyes on her again, but refused to meet his gaze. “Like the beauty of Boston,” he went on, changing the subject. “What a fine place. In fact, I was hoping for a tour, if you ladies would do me the honor. I’ve taken the liberty of hiring a landau for the occasion.”

  Sarah tilted her head back and forth, considering. “We were meant to spend the day in lessons, not having expected your visit, you see. I don’t mind changing my schedule to accommodate you, though, if you’ll wait while Marlena and I ready ourselves to go out.”

  Marlena finally looked at him and nearly laughed at the confused look on his face.

  “Forgive me, but you ladies look lovely already,” he said.

  At that, Sarah did laugh and Marlena sent a grin his way.

  “We would never leave the house in our morning dresses,” Sarah said. “Please wait here. I’ll have some refreshments brought for you.”

  If Marlena wasn’t mistaken, Dalton’s cheeks took on a soft red hue as he cleared his throat and chuckled with chagrin. He glanced at her and shrugged apologetically. She shook her head, turning to follow Sarah out of the room. Dalton’s hand reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her backward so he could press his mouth to her ear and whisper.

  “The flowers were for you,” he said, and then released her. A fist of nerves slammed into her chest, bursting and rippling through her. She didn’t trust herself not to blush, so she simply nodded and returned to her place behind Sarah. Always behind Sarah.

  An hour later, they left the house and climbed into the landau, its roof retracted so they could enjoy the fresh air. The ladies held their parasols against the sun as they rattled over the cobbles of Beacon Street. Marlena cringed as Sarah pointed out each of her neighbor’s lavish homes, detailing their histories and the families who occupied them. Dalton was a true gentleman, feigning interest until Sarah’s head was turned. Then, he’d roll his eyes or make silly faces at Marlena, daring her to laugh out loud. In those cases, she’d open her fan and hold it over her mouth. As Sarah rattled on, Dalton leaned into Marlena.

  “Why did you let her insult you earlier?” he whispered with a wrinkled brow, and Marlena glanced nervously between him and Sarah.

  “Are you seriously asking me this right now?” she said softly.

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen you stand up for others. Your sister, my mother, the working class women of Boston. Why fight for everyone but yourself?”

  She smiled at a passerby, nodding her head demurely before she covered her face with her fan again and turned to Dalton.

  “Because I can take it,” she said. “I defend myself when needed, but the Sarahs and Elijahs and Eloisas of this world are a dime a dozen. Unlike you, I don’t see the need to fight them all.”

  “Are you listening to me at all?” Sarah demanded to the pair, and Dalton flashed his brightest debonair smile.

  “Of course, ma’am. You were speaking of the Battle of Bunker Hill.”

  Sarah’s eyelashes fluttered and she nodded, carrying out her soliloquy. Marlena pressed her lips together, as did Dalton. As Sarah rattled on, Marlena leaned closer to Dalton.

  “I’m surprised you’d risk coming around Sarah. She was there the day we said goodbye in Virginia City. Weren’t you worried she’d recognize you?”

  He shrugged. “I had a beard then. I don’t now. I figured that and the time lapse would work in my favor, and it has.”

  Marlena studied his jawline, square and strong. “This is the first time I’ve seen you without facial hair of some sort.”

  He rubbed his fingers over his bare chin. “I don’t care for it much myself.”

  “I think you look handsome,” she said before smacking her lips. “But there’s something about a bearded man that I love. Something rugged and masculine.”

  One of his dark eyebrows inched up. “I shall bear that in mind.”

  She giggled, feeling the warm bloom in her cheeks. Sarah cleared her throat and fixed them with an impatient stare, ending their private conversation.

  Once they rolled through the greenery of the Commons they passed many acquaintances. Dalton’s wide brimmed hat and dress drew curious stares, and he acknowledged each of them with a friendly wave. Marlena recognized the lady approaching them as Sarah instructed her driver to stop.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Bradley,” Sarah said.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Winthrop, Miss Beauregard.”

  Marlena sat forward and returned the greeting before introducing Dalton as her cousin.

  “From out west?” Mrs. Bradley drawled, her thick gray eyebrows nearly touching her hairline. “Well, then you must bring him to the dinner party tomorrow night.”

  Sarah nervously swatted the air. “Oh, no. You needn’t feel obligated. It’s such short notice. You’d have to adjust all of your arrangements.”

  Mrs. Bradley laughed away Sarah’s concerns. “Oh, d
on’t be silly. The addition of a single body isn’t going to disrupt the preparations. I absolutely insist. It would be most…diverting to have someone practically foreign in our midst. Come, what say you, Sir?”

  A cold dread filled Marlena at the thought that he might actually accept. She knew the attendees of Vera Bradley’s dinner party would be unforgivingly condescending toward Dalton. While Dalton could endure it with grace and humor, she didn’t believe she could.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have the proper attire,” he answered, and Marlena sagged with relief.

  “No need to change your style on our account,” Mrs. Bradley said, sounding innocent enough. “Just come as you are. We are nothing if not charitable.”

  “Then, I shall be happy to oblige,” he said, and Marlena grimaced. Dalton must have caught the look because he took advantage of Sarah and Vera’s continued conversation and leaned toward Marlena to speak.

  “You don’t seem excited for me to go,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly.

  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 prodde
d 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.