Breathless(43)

Phillip Pratt, seated next to Matt on Portia’s side of the table, cracked, “Mr. Randolph, my sister decided to eat in her room. Feel free to enjoy your dinner in peace.”

Kent chuckled and saluted him with his wine. “Thanks.”

The first course was a cold soup served in wineglasses.

Ada studied her glass with wondrous eyes. “This is certainly a unique presentation. What is this?”

Eddy answered. “A cold cucumber and melon soup from Spain known as Melón Piel de Sapo.”

Portia loved the sweet tangy soup. Its refreshing, creamy texture was garnished with diced red peppers and a thin slice of fried ham that rested vertically in the center.

Winston dipped his spoon and took a taste. “This is delicious. Perfect counter to the hot weather.”

Eddy nodded. “Since you’re leaving tomorrow, Rhine thought we should make this evening special, so thank him. The soup was his idea.”

They voiced their thanks.

Ada glanced down at Eddy. “Mrs. Fontaine, Portia told me that you and your friends are coming to San Francisco for the convention.”

“Yes we are.”

“My women’s group is one of the sponsors. She said you usually stay with relatives when you visit but Winston and I would love for you two to be our guests.”

“Why thank you,” Eddy replied. “Portia and I will discuss it and let you know.”

“I may be speaking out of turn but I think she and my son would make a fine couple. Don’t you?”

Eddy raised an eyebrow.

Winston cleared his throat and smiled. “My mother is a handful as you can see.”

“I’m known for speaking my mind, and I’m not ashamed of that. She’d make you a fine wife and me a wonderful daughter-in-law. It’s an idea that should be pursued.”

Portia sensed Kent studying the Jakeses. “I’m flattered, Mrs. Jakes, but as I said—”

“I know, I know, but the right gentleman can change your mind. I never thought I’d marry either, but Gavin, my late husband, showed me the error of my ways. Being married doesn’t mean you have to set aside your own desires, isn’t that true, Mrs. Fontaine?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“See, Portia. Even your aunt agrees with me.”

To his credit, Winston appeared embarrassed. “Let’s change the subject, Mother, shall we?”

“If you insist, but I have one last point to make. Portia, I doubt you’ll meet anyone around here who can match my son in intelligence and refinement.” And she shot Kent a smug smile over her wineglass before turning to Regan and asking, “Tell me about this mail route of yours.”

Portia’s anger at the outrageous dig matched the glowing hostility in Eddy’s eyes and the coldness reflected in Rhine’s.

Kent, obviously not cowed, leaned over and whispered, “If you marry him, you’ll shoot her dead within a week.”

Portia snorted then did her best to regain her composure. Ada and Winston turned and eyed her suspiciously but she pretended not to notice.

Ada Jakes’s dig made Kent no never mind. Her son hadn’t made Portia laugh just a moment ago, nor seen her eyes slide shut with passion. He added Ada to the list of folks who considered themselves superior, like the pompous Darian Day and Edward Salt. The list had ample room to add others should the need arise.

“Mr. Randolph, will you be escorting us to the train depot in the morning?”

He met Winston Jakes’s gray eyes. “Yes.”

“That will make me and mother feel safer with Geronimo running loose.”

Kent wanted to say something sarcastic about being refined enough to protect their greenhorn asses but not enough to court Portia but kept that to himself. “The Apaches are probably south of the border by now. You shouldn’t be in any danger.”

“Good to know.”

It occurred to Kent that the man might be trying to make amends for his harridan of a mother, so he decided to be pleasant and give him the benefit of the doubt.

Once the main course was served and they began eating, Winston addressed him again. “How long have you been employed by the Fontaines?”

“I worked for Rhine back in Virginia City.”

Regan interjected. “He’s known Portia and me since she was twelve and I was ten.”

Jakes couldn’t hide his surprise. “So long?”

“Yes. He’s like family in a way,” Portia explained, and the shy smile she sent Kent made his heart rear like a pleased stallion.

Regan said, “He calls her Duchess.”

Ada blinked with shock. In response, Regan smiled innocently his way and proved to Kent once again why he found her such a joy. Ada seemed to be evaluating him from an entirely different place now. Yes, you old biddy, I am a threat to your plans for your perfect son.

She asked, “May I ask why?”

“No,” Kent replied.

Rhine coughed to hide his laugh. Kent ignored the smoke pouring from Ada’s ears and went back to his meal. She’d already labeled him unsuitable, so he might as well live up to it. She’d probably tumble out of her chair were he to boast of having attended Howard Medical School and that his father, like her son, was a doctor, but he wasn’t ashamed of the path he’d chosen for his life, nor the man it had helped him become.