The Davenports(52)

He leaned in, waited. “Even when I do this?” he asked, kissing the skin below her ear.

Ruby’s eyes fluttered closed. “Yes.” She breathed in the sage that clung to his skin.

“Or this?” A kiss at the edge of her jaw. Then another. Mr. Barton moved toward her mouth at a pace that made her skin sizzle. Heat bloomed at the epicenter of each touch, sending waves of electricity from her jaw to the tips of her toes. They weakened her resolve and fed a need deep within. She wanted more. She had never wanted anyone like this. Ever. It frightened and excited her.

When his lips finally pressed to hers, thoughts of how she would untangle herself from the situation fled. All she could do was savor the taste of him as he kissed her. His tongue slipped past her lips; she gasped and pulled away. Not far, just enough to see his heavy-lidded stare and parted lips. His breaths were ragged. She inhaled his desire and let it meld with hers. And before she could change her mind, she kissed him again. She kissed him until her lips bruised and her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

“Ruby . . .” he said against her lips, her jaw and her neck. She loved the way he said her name. Like a prayer. Then she felt a gentle pressure on her shoulders. Mr. Barton straightened and the world around them snapped back into place. It took Ruby a few minutes to adjust to her surroundings, to hear the sounds of the park over their labored breathing and the pounding in her ears.

Harrison Barton cleared his throat. “I think we should eat.”

Ruby laughed. She had forgotten she was hungry.





CHAPTER 23


    Olivia



Freeport Manor was a flurry of activity. Olivia completed her last walk through the ballroom while the guests enjoyed dessert. The chandeliers broke the light into a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the floor’s polished surface. The band had been playing quietly throughout the five-course meal. Now they were preparing their larger instruments for music worthy of the celebration. The bar was fully stocked and the lounges and high tops by the patio doors offered refreshments in both drink and air. The silver-and-black decorations continued from the dining room to the patio, creating a seamless transition. Deeming it to be to her mother’s exacting standards, she returned inside.

Her mother’s encouraging nod made Olivia feel as though she’d passed some test. Mrs. Davenport sat to her father’s right, their clasped hands visible above the table. Olivia stole a glance at Mr. Lawrence, who sat opposite her, deep in conversation with Mrs. Johnson. She watched them, the tightness in her chest she felt all day easing. Everything is falling into place, she thought.

Clink clink clink.

At the head of the table, Mr. Davenport stood, a champagne flute in hand. “Thank you all for joining us on this special anniversary,” he said. His eyes turned to his wife; even from a distance their deep brown seemed to melt with fondness and gratitude. “I am not one for words.” He glanced back at his children, his guests. “Let us dance.” Laughter filled the dining room. Olivia caught Mr. Lawrence’s eye over the rim of her glass. His wink made her forget her exhaustion like a shot of espresso. The guests, following her father’s instructions, filed out of the room to enjoy the rest of the night.

Earlier that evening, Olivia had picked at the hem of the chiffon dress she’d laid out on her bed. It was beautiful enough for a bride. The thought had filled her with anticipation and something she couldn’t name. It soothed her to know she wasn’t the only one in white, per Emmeline Davenport’s vision. John and Helen stood out now in the sea of black-tie attire like stars in the night sky. She’d lost Mr. Lawrence in the shuffle.

Nestled in a corner near the ballroom entrance, Ruby waved. “You have outdone yourself,” she said. “Twenty-five years of marriage. That’s six years longer than we’ve been alive. Can you imagine being with the same person for that long?”

Olivia eyed her friend. It’s all they’d thought about for almost two years.

“What?” Ruby asked. “You and Mr. Lawrence have all the old birds in a fit, betting on when the big announcement will come. I say, elope and create a scandal the likes of which they’ve never seen.”

“Elopement is only entertaining in theory.” Olivia wondered, not for the first time, what was keeping the British bachelor from making his intentions clearer. He took little interest in the other young women of their set and it was as she told Mr. DeWight: They made an excellent match. Love would come later.

Still, the lawyer’s words had rattled her confidence. Since the night of the last meeting, he had slipped into her waking thoughts. He challenged everything she knew. She imagined using all he deemed frivolous and privileged to further the group’s reach. He underestimated her. And Mr. Tremaine’s fundraiser in six weeks will be the perfect opportunity to show him what I’m capable of.

Washington DeWight’s lifestyle, so unlike hers, promised a change from her routine that had never occurred to her. Travel. Charity. Purpose.

Above all: Passion.

She had not felt such desire to learn more about anything than she had for civil rights, the elections process, and, yes, bills. She’d made more trips to the Chicago Public Library in the past few days than she had in the past year. Questions popped up like dandelions in her mind. If Mrs. Woodard had any say, women would have the vote soon. Best to be informed. She was additionally surprised by Helen’s company on these trips. They rode Chestnut together when Tommy or Hetty weren’t available, the pair of them forgoing the carriage. They ignored the stares and the honking horns of speeding motorists as they traveled. How could I have forgotten how much I loved it? Her sister was content to leave her to her own studies once they got there.