The Davenports(17)

Ruby grabbed yet another flute from the tray flying past her. She swayed slightly, but luckily the table was there to steady her.

“In need of liquid courage then, are you?”

Ruby looked up from her glass, startled at the voice over her shoulder. Harrison Barton pointed to the glass in her hand. He had moved to Chicago from Louisiana last summer. His wealth had gotten him an invitation, but there wasn’t enough money in the city to make people forget his white father once owned his mother. He had the same fair complexion as Olivia’s old playmate-now-maid Amy-Rose. And as Ruby lifted her gaze, she was reminded of his eyes—a pale, watery brown fringed in green. Many in this room would have him bear the guilt of his parents’ mixed union. Features like his were typically the result of violence, a reminder of unspoken pain. His very existence challenged the comfort of Black and white people alike.

It didn’t faze Ruby. “And what would I need courage for, Mr. Barton?” she asked. She let him take the glass from her hand and replace it with a bite-sized raspberry tart. Its buttery crust melted in her mouth, followed by the burst of sweet fruit and cream filling.

“Did I say courage?” Mr. Barton corrected himself, color rising above his collar. Ruby felt her skin prickle and couldn’t quite keep a smile off her face. She liked the musical way he pronounced each syllable. “Perhaps you’re just in need of fun.” He sounded less sure of himself, but kept his warm smile.

“Fun is my favorite pastime. My, if you’re not having fun, what’s the point?”

Mr. Barton shifted his weight, revealing John talking with his father across the room. But to her surprise, John’s eyes were on her and Harrison Barton, his face in a frown. Was he . . . jealous? She placed her hand gently on Harrison’s forearm. Through her eyelashes she saw John freeze. Typical, she thought. Men never outgrew the instincts of playground possession. Well, if this is what it took to capture John’s focus, then so be it.

“Would you like to dance?” Harrison asked.

Ruby tore her gaze away from John and toward the man standing in front of her. “I would have asked you myself, but you beat me to it!”

He placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her to the center of the room. She felt John’s eyes as she and her handsome dance partner glided across the floor and smiled genuinely for the first time all night. A plan began to take shape . . . Ruby turned the full wattage of her charms on Mr. Barton. She leaned in as close as was acceptable, and after making a mental note of John’s last location, she willed herself not to look in his direction and instead focus all her attention on the man in front of her.

Harrison Barton proved to be a magnificent dancer, and shockingly, an even better conversationalist. He described his family and the small town he grew up in with such fondness, it made Ruby’s heart ache. She was so invested in his story about how his brother broke his arm climbing a tree, she didn’t notice the song change or her mother sneaking up behind her.

“Ruby,” she said through her teeth when she reached her daughter. “You must make yourself available to all our guests.”

Ruby, the champagne bubbling in her veins and her anger simmering beneath her skin, spun to her mother.

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Tremaine,” Harrison broke in before Ruby could utter her frustration aloud. “Your daughter is an excellent partner. I enjoy her company and never intended to steal so much of it.” Harrison’s words may have been directed to her mother, but his hazel eyes never left Ruby’s. And if he saw Mrs. Tremaine’s eyebrow twitch, he showed no sign of it. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Tremaine,” he said. She watched Agatha Leary approach him, and the two melted into the crowd. Yes, a popular bachelor would do nicely.

Ruby made a break for the bar, leaving her mother’s side before she said something she’d regret. She took a hard left when she spotted the crowd. Instead, she found comfort in the hallway. The air was noticeably chilly, but refreshing. Ruby leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Only a few hours more, she told herself. Hushed whispers made their way through the music to where she hid. Ruby couldn’t resist. She tiptoed closer to the drawing room, repurposed as a ladies’ lounge for the night.

“Well, I hope for their sake he wins.”

Ruby jolted upright and stood still, hidden by the wall of the hallway.

A second voice chimed in. “He’ll need the white vote if he wants to win. More than the few here tonight.”

“Mm-hmm,” the first speaker said. “If he doesn’t, the Tremaines will have nothing left.”

Ruby’s chest strained against her dress with each breath.

“May I have the next dance?” a voice murmured in her ear.

She started. Then the smell of bergamot and balsam wrapped around her, easing the tension she felt. Ah yes, the real reason she had danced with Mr. Barton in the first place. She’d nearly forgotten.

Ruby smiled and twirled slowly toward John Davenport, the satisfaction of knowing her plan would work tugging at the corners of her lips.

“I thought you’d never ask.”





CHAPTER 9


    Olivia



Olivia was breathless. She clutched Mr. Lawrence’s shoulders as he spun her around the dance floor. With his hand pressed flat across her spine, they fought to outlast the other couples trying to keep up with the band’s increasing tempo. Eliminated dancers joined the spectators, clapping with the beat. All eyes were on her, and for once, Olivia didn’t find herself second-guessing her every move. She wasn’t striving for perfection.