The Davenports(57)

“So soon?” asked the shorter man to his right. Amy-Rose looked at him. The name Greenfield popped into her head, recalling his face from Olivia’s descriptions. “What about our trip this summer?”

John shifted as the group’s attention returned to him. “I suppose there’s no reason not to make plans for the summer. The business is the only thing that could keep me here.”

“The only thing?” Half a dozen pairs of eyes whipped back to where she stood. She was cold, though her face burned. She hadn’t meant to ask it out loud. Had she misunderstood? No, he’d said he would miss her if she left Freeport Manor. But how could he say that if he might leave too? The plan he made with Helen was bound to succeed. He was sure to stay.

But not for her. And that meant if his plan for the business did fall through, then . . .

Amy-Rose could feel their stares. Their words had dissolved into the music, which now pounded in her ears.

Mr. Greenfield’s sharp laugh pierced her ears. “Still breaking hearts, huh, Davenport?”

Amy-Rose cleared her throat. “Forgive me. I spoke out of turn.” Her voice was even. She reminded herself that John’s plans did not matter. Only hers.

“Don’t you know you have to do like the royals and at least take if off the palace grounds?” The laughter erupted anew, the others in the group joining. She glanced at John, a head taller than the rest. His mouth, which explored hers with such tenderness, now split into a grimace.

“That’s enough, Greenie,” said John. And she knew, whether he truly cared for her or not, he would choose this life. These people. Over her.

Amy-Rose breathed through the painful tightness in her chest as she turned away. She would not wait for him. No daughter of Clara Shepherd would endure ridicule and postpone her own dreams for a man to return. She struggled to keep a graceful pace and slow her breathing. Though there was plenty of champagne left in the bottle, she walked past several guests holding their flutes up for a refill. She kept herself upright long enough to make it to the kitchen.

Had something changed? Had she misread his intentions? No, he was clear. Mere days ago, John Davenport had said he’d miss her. She did not mistake his feelings for her. She knew in the way he trusted her with his fears, his hopes, that he cared for her. The way he kissed her . . . Amy-Rose barreled into the kitchen. She didn’t want to believe he could be so cold. He’d treated her like a—her breath caught in the back of her throat.

The tears she fought to keep at bay finally escaped. Jessie shooed the others out of the kitchen and drew Amy-Rose into a crushing hug. Between sobs, Amy-Rose told Jessie everything from the stolen moments alone with John to the humiliating scene only minutes ago.

Jessie rocked her and rubbed her back until Amy-Rose’s breathing evened out and her muscles relaxed. Then she delivered a truth Amy-Rose could no longer ignore.

“He’s not gonna marry you, honey. You know this ain’t some fairy tale.”





CHAPTER 26


    Ruby



Ruby searched the crowd for Mr. Barton. She’d taken extra care with her hair, lying to herself that it wasn’t to impress him. Neither was the low-cut bodice of the gown she’d picked. It highlighted her figure and allowed an unobstructed view of her necklace that he had returned to her. Naturally, she’d told her parents the truth. Harrison bought it for her to make her happy. If they objected, they couldn’t do so publicly without undermining her plan. She very well couldn’t sell it again. She wanted him to see her wear it proudly. Her mother eyed it suspiciously. Her father surprised her, complimenting her gruffly before moving on.

When she palmed the stone now, she thought of Harrison’s featherlight touch as he placed it around her neck. The way he looked at her made her breath still. The kiss they shared awakened feelings she hadn’t expected. It was magical. The world around them had faded away and all she could think about was his lips on hers, hers on his. That kiss was not part of the plan. Neither were these feelings.

Though she was glad to have her ruby back, it served as a reminder that her goal was to secure a proposal from the Davenport heir, to make her parents’ wish come true. Your wish too, she thought. Once. Now she wasn’t so sure. When she was with Mr. Barton, she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“May I have this dance?” John asked. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Ruby pressed her hand flat against her chest where her heart pounded, though not with the same thrill she usually felt when John singled her out from the crowd. “Of course,” she said, offering her hand. Ruby wondered what had brought him to her side. She glanced over her shoulder. Her mother and Mrs. Davenport stood at the bar a few feet away. Between the strokes of their fans, she caught glimpses of their bright eyes and wide grins. She noted the conspiratorial angle of their heads as they exchanged whispers. They were helping. This is what she’d wanted.

Ruby grasped John’s hand tighter and followed his lead. His steps lacked the bounce she’d felt in the first dance they’d shared. What’s changed? She looked around the room. Still no sight of Mr. Barton. She and Olivia had discussed the guest list at length. He had accepted the invitation to the Davenports’ anniversary party. Where is he? No matter. She needed to focus on John. Ruby had accepted his dance.

He must have felt her studying him, because he schooled his features and said, “I see you’ve started wearing your necklace again. It suits you.” John’s dimple appeared as he smiled down at her.