Ruby's Song (Love in the Sierras Book 3) (10 page)

As he read the words, he couldn’t help but steal glances at Marlena, whose gaze was fixed on him and, for the first time, not flitting shyly to the ground when their eyes met.

The unqualified truth is, that when I loved Estella with the love of a man, I loved her simply because I found her irresistible. Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I loved her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection.

He stopped reading after those lines, unable to see anything but Marlena. Her round violet eyes bore deep into his. Her lips tilted slightly at the corners, raising her cheeks in a smile that revealed long slim cheek bones. His gaze slid to her mouth, a perfect bow he longed to taste again, but without the provocation of alcohol. He wanted to feel a willing kiss, one borne of passion and longing.

A throat cleared somewhere in the room and he broke eye contact and closed the book. “I think that’s a good place to stop,” he said, believing it in his soul. Fostering feelings for Marlena was not something he could allow. Their worlds and futures were as wide as the Pacific.

At that moment, Harrison stood. “I, for one, would be honored if Miss Beauregard with regale us with a song.”

The crowd nodded in agreement, and he watched a blush rise to Marlena’s cheeks as she began to fidget and study the ground.

“Yes, Marlena,” Sarah said. “I believe this is the perfect opportunity to tease the company into attending your debut.”

Dalton’s hand slid over hers for a gentle squeeze, and a change came over her. Bright eyes hardened into pure resolve and she nodded at Sarah. As soon as the noise quieted, he made his way to the back of the room where he stood against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

Marlena took a deep breath and started to sing. The first note came out shaky and she glanced up with worry in her eyes, but soon corrected her folly. Her gaze slid around the room, looking above and below the faces, but never quite at them. Her fingers knotted and tangled around one another as she continued in the song. Once her eyes found Dalton’s, however, he sent her an encouraging smile and noticed her body relax.

As he studied her movements and performance, a realization hit him with the force of a gale, and it stayed with him for the rest of the evening, always chanting in the back of his mind as he said goodnight to all in the company, accepted a ball invitation for two nights hence, escorted the ladies home and then returned to the inn. Instead of going to bed, he knocked on his mother’s door. Fortunately, she was awake and opened quickly, inviting him in.

“What’s the matter, Dalton?” she asked.

“Do you know how to ballroom dance?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“I need you to teach me. I’ve got two days to learn how.”

Juliet smiled. “I thought you said you’d never don the penguin suit again.” 

“I’m serious, Mother,” he said in earnest.

She laughed. “What’s got you all bothered?”

“I would like to have more than a single minute of conversation with Marlena without someone by her side, and it appears to do that I’m going to have to learn to dance in a ballroom.”

Chapter 10

Marlena held the tiny horse in her palm, studying the smooth curves of the wood, remarking how difficult it must have been to create such a soft, perfect roundness. She imagined Dalton’s hands with their rough callouses, cradling the thick bark, working it diligently until it took the shape he desired, just like he had the crowd at the dinner party.

Her cheeks burned at his reading of Pip’s love for Estella, and the way his eyes had hooked hers. At the time, she’d imagined they were his words and feelings, not Pip’s. How her heart had swelled! She could hardly breathe. And now she was less than an hour from seeing him again. After a two-day absence, anticipation grew in her stomach.

She studied her reflection in the mirror of the parlor. The gown she’d chosen was a soft lilac tulle to compliment her dark violet eyes. The neckline scooped across her bosom and attached to cap sleeves of white lace. The skirt fell in no less than five scallops of white lace near the hem. For her hair, she had the top half fastened back and pinned with soft velvet lilacs, letting the remainder fall down her back in crisp ringlets.

Sarah entered, looking equally fashionable in a soft blue creation, but the elegance was lost in the quick pace she kept in a march about the room.

“If he isn’t dressed properly when he arrives, I won’t permit us to leave this house,” she declared. “Better to be scandalized by a late cancellation than by a ruffian without scruples.”

Marlena’s spine stiffened. “But the dinner party went so well.”

“Oh, wake up, Marlena!” Sarah spat. “That was a small party of our closest friends. This is a ball with scores of people and wagging tongues who won’t be as forgiving. And Elijah is coming tonight. Do you think he will be amused by Dalton’s ignorance? I can tell you now, he will not.” Sarah turned on her heel and pointed her closed fan at Marlena. “I expect you to hold him to protocol, Marlena. He’s
your
relation. Make sure he doesn’t step out of line. Make sure he dances with other ladies, if he can even dance at all. And don’t let him monopolize you. Tell him to make conversation with others, men and women.”

“What on earth could he possibly talk about with these people? He comes from a place where survival is foremost on everyone’s minds, not the latest fashion trends out of Paris.”

Sarah’s look was sardonic. “Don’t be so dramatic, Marlena. Surely, they can find some subject of discourse. What does he do for a living?”

Marlena raised an eyebrow and felt a little smug as she admitted, “He’s a hired gun.”

Sarah stopped pacing for a brief moment before resuming an even more vigorous speed. “Oh, dear. Tell him
not
to speak of that.”

“Once you announce my debut, people will forget all about a ball.”

“We shall see if you debut,” Sarah said, causing a hot stone to sink into Marlena’s belly. “Your performance at dinner left much to be desired. It ended well, but that start...”

“That won’t happen again, I assure you. I was full from the meal.”

Sarah tilted her head, considering. “I suppose that’s reasonable.”

“Why so frantic, sister?” Elijah crooned from the doorway. “It is nothing more than ladies and gentlemen gathered to dance.”

“Except Mr. Cunningham is not a gentlemen.”

Elijah studied his fingernails. “You never had any qualms about sharing your evenings with working class men before. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Marlena’s brow gathered and she glanced at Sarah, whose face had gone ashen and eyes wide with worry and contempt.

“Elijah,” she moaned. “Please…”

Winters appeared and announced Dalton’s arrival and the change in Elijah and Sarah was immediate, leaving Marlena in a fit of confusion. Sarah gasped in happy surprise when Dalton entered, but Marlena found her feet suddenly glued to the floor, all thoughts of the sparring siblings forgotten. He brandished a handsome smile and an elegant, flawless presentation of evening wear. She’d never seen anything so breathtaking. Fortunately, Dalton was preoccupied with an introduction to Elijah and couldn’t see her flustered response.

She avoided his gaze in the parlor and also in the carriage ride, suddenly feeling like an unworthy escort for so handsome a man. As he led her across the ballroom, though, he took the opportunity to speak.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You seem out of sorts this evening.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she returned, glancing hesitantly. “You look dashing, Dalton.”

“And you steal my breath,” he said. “As always.”

Her smile was meek and a tremble shook through her body, but she steeled herself against the effects he had on her. “Dalton, Elijah will be very critical of how you are received and perceived here. I’ve been lectured to keep you in line. So, I’m asking you to follow my lead tonight. Sarah is already talking about pushing back my debut and if I anger Elijah who knows what will happen.”

She studied him and knew he held his breath. Finally, he turned away from her and blew a full hot cloud of it into the air. When he was composed, he turned back to her. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief. “You’ll dance the first dance with me, but that’s it. You must dance with other ladies after. I’ll introduce you around and you must mingle and converse with everyone you’re introduced to.”

He rolled his eyes and released another exasperated breath. “In other words I’m to have nothing to do with you after our dance?”

She scrunched her face, sheepishly. “Basically.”

“If I had known that, I wouldn’t have come, Marlena. The only person I care about talking with here is you.”

A wealth of affection flooded her, and she hoped he could see it in her eyes. “I appreciate that, Dalton, and I’m sorry my circumstances have put you in an uncomfortable position.”

Harrison approached with Eloisa on his arm, followed by two more couples.

“Mr. Cunningham, may I present to you my niece, Eloisa Hamilton?”

More introductions were made around the circle and Marlena watched in silence as Dalton carried on conversations with ease. Daggers formed in her eyes as she studied Eloisa’s flirtatious laughter and smile. A cold ring of panic squeezed around her heart when Harrison broached the subject of Dalton’s occupation. She’d forgotten to instruct him on that detail.

“I’m a hired gun,” Dalton announced and Marlena held her breath as the faces of their company fell in wide-eyed shock.

“What exactly is a hired gun, Mr. Cunningham?” Eloisa asked with feigned ignorance.

Harrison took the liberty of answering. “Why, it’s what we’d call a shootist, isn’t it Mr. Cunningham?”

Dalton’s eyes never wavered from Harrison’s. “I answer by that name as well, yes.”

Eloisa gasped and held a hand over her mouth. “So, you’re like…an assassin for hire?”

“Not exactly,” Dalton said.

“Can you really perform all manner of trick-shooting such as we read about?” Harrison asked with a chuckle.

“Like shooting a hole through a coin as it’s thrown in the air,” another gentleman asked. “I’ve a pistol in my carriage.”

“And I’ve a coin in my pocket,” Harrison, again. “How about a demonstration? Are you a quick draw?”

“How many men have you killed?”

Marlena’s mouth pursed and her eyes narrowed at the tone of their inquiries. There was no sincere curiosity. They were baiting Dalton into ridicule.  

“That’s quite enough,” Marlena announced, stifling the barrage of questions and drawing all eyes to her.

“Oh, Marlena,” Eloisa drawled with a false laugh. “I’d forgotten you were there. You’re not usually much of a conversationalist.”

Marlena returned the façade of a sweet smile. “Only when someone
interesting
speaks.”

Eloisa drew a quick breath at the insult and Dalton cleared his throat to draw the attention his way. “To answer your questions, I
am
a quick draw. I don’t know about shooting games. That’s a waste of ammunition. If I pull my gun, someone’s going to die. Like the twenty-three before them. Good evening.”

He nodded at the faces that had gone pale as snow before leading Marlena away. She was still seething.

“Those puffed up little peacocks,” she whispered heatedly. “Who do they think they are?”

“Calm down,” Dalton whispered through a grin. “They didn’t bother me. Don’t let them bother you.”

It couldn’t be helped. A low grunt gurgled from the back of her throat as she groaned in frustration. “That smug little Eloisa with her grating voice and insipid face.
Not much of a conversationalist.
”

Dalton chuckled beside her. “Bravo. It’s refreshing to see righteous anger on your own behalf for a change.”

“I’m angry on your behalf, not mine.”

The master of ceremonies announced the first dance, a waltz.

“No more anger,” Dalton said, leading her by the hand to the dance floor. “We’ve only one dance tonight and I’ll not let you waste it in bad humor.”

They took their positions and Marlena felt the press of each of his fingertips into the small of her back as he pulled her against him. His scent washed over her, intoxicating her with its masculinity. A warm, tingling pleasure rushed to the tips of her breasts where they rubbed along his chest, causing her to suck in a deep breath. She placed her hand on his arm above the elbow and noted its hardness. Her eyes fixed on his necktie as she took another deep breath.

“Look at me,” he said softly as the music began. “Not at my tie. Not at my shoes. Not anywhere but at me.” Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his, and he smiled. “There. That’s better. I’m not like all of these other people here. Whether you like it or not, I see you.”

He swept her in a circle and she frowned at his words. “What do you mean?”

“You never look a person in the eye, you know. Or if you do, it’s not long before you seek out the floor.”

“I do not.”

“What color are Harrison’s eyes?” he asked.

She frowned in thought, completely clueless, baffled more by the fact that she’d known the man for five years and couldn’t answer the question. But she knew the color of Dalton’s eyes. Bright, cornflower blue.

“They’re brown,” he answered for her as his head shook and he chuckled sadly. “Why don’t you talk much, Marlena?”

She took a deep breath and released it through her nose before she shrugged. “When you have people telling you to keep your mouth shut all of your life, eventually you do it. The only person who ever wanted to talk to me was Jess, and for seven years she was the
only
person I spoke to. People don’t want to hear me talk, Dalton. They want to hear me sing. And I’m fine with that.”

Dalton’s lips formed a thin line as he studied her face. They spun in time with the music, reminding her of their first dance together five years ago. She’d been enraptured then, but his hold was different this time. It was possessive and protective. No one else in the room existed, and she was fine with that, too.

“I know why you’re so good and comfortable at
The Museum
and why the idea of a concert terrifies you,” he finally said.

She started but said nothing. Fear and curiosity held her tongue at bay.

“You’ve spent your life either pretending to be someone else or trying not to be seen. You thrive in the theater because you are not
you
on the stage. You can pretend to be whoever you want, and you’re most comfortable being someone else. Helene, Penny, Puck, anyone but Marlena. In a concert, you expose yourself. You must be seen for who
you
are, and in the past that has either resulted in pain or fear…or thoughts of inadequacy.”

Tears burned the backs of her eyes, less at what he’d said and more at the realization she’d never reached the conclusion on her own. As much as she’d pondered her insecurities and emotions, it’d never come together as clearly and plainly as Dalton stated it. But her own memories confirmed it, even now as she thought back on the day she’d accepted Sarah Jeanne’s proposal in Virginia City. She’d wanted, more than anything, to be Sarah Jeanne.

Jess had always claimed the attention, the good and the bad, for she was superior to most women in many ways. Marlena never faulted her for it. She was as much in love with her sister as everyone else. But there was one thing Marlena had that was her own. Her music, her way of communicating and hiding, her contribution of beauty to the world.

Yet as she’d continued to grow into her own thoughts and feelings as a mature woman, she realized she wasn’t ready to set herself before the world for judgment. To sing as herself and from her own heart would bare a part of her soul, and she didn’t want to share that part of her. She’d never intended to be a solo songstress, but had planned a life in costume.

But she had signed the contract, given away her free will, and it was her second greatest regret in life, the first having been leaving Virginia City at all. Life in the Boston aristocracy was not what she wanted, but too many sacrifices had been made to afford her the opportunity. There was nothing left but to see the thing through. She was miserable and unhappy in her choice of life, and if she showed the people Marlena Beauregard, that is what they’d see: an uninteresting, unhappy pretender.