The Davenports(84)
Jacob Lawrence dropped his arms, but not the boyish grin on his face. “I will wait.”
CHAPTER 37
Ruby
The drawing room shared by the Davenport girls had been transformed into Olivia’s party-planning headquarters. Swatches of tablecloths, various place setting examples, and food samples from various restaurants occupied every available surface. Ruby watched her friend make notes in a book between bouts of pulling at her hair, which was braided into two plaits, one on either side of her head.
“I still think you should have Jessie make the desserts,” Ruby said, gracelessly spitting a lemon tart into a napkin. “We want people to vote for Papa, not accuse him of food poisoning.”
Olivia laughed. “No to the lemon tarts,” she said, dragging a pencil across the page. “Anything else I should know?”
Ruby knew her friend meant her opinion of turning the Davenports’ annual masquerade ball into a campaign fundraiser. The fact was, the tart wasn’t so bad. It was just that nothing could overcome the sour taste in Ruby’s mouth. The mess she’d created spoiled everything, including her excitement for this party.
“Harrison thinks my parents know about us,” she said, closing her eyes, trying to think of what she would say when she saw him.
He also believed that they made no objections. That Ruby’s single-minded pursuit of John Davenport at her parents’ urging was over, and that she and Harrison Barton were free to move on with their lives. They had spent as much time together as they could manage. And all the while, she’d sidestepped conversations about her parents.
“And why would he think that? Have you told them the full truth yet?” Olivia’s stare felt like needles against Ruby’s skin. It was awful. “Oh, Ruby, you didn’t.” The disappointment in Olivia’s voice was even worse. “You have to tell them the truth! What if Harrison Barton runs into your father at one of the gentlemen’s clubs? How you’ve managed to avoid such a disaster—”
“I know!” Ruby said. She fanned herself in front of the window. The air was still and muggy, which only served to sour her mood further. “It’s just—I hate to disappointment them. I don’t know when I went from ‘doing no wrong’ to everything being a disaster. And it feels like this campaign has taken so much of their attention—it’s so important, Olivia, I just can’t compete.”
Olivia stood and walked across the room, tugging Ruby back to the couch. “I understand feeling afraid of losing your parents’ esteem. It can lead to rash, foolish decisions. Trust me,” she said, smiling. “But in this situation, deception will lead to more pain than the truth will. For all of you.”
Ruby slouched against the pillows and covered her face. Olivia was right.
“Ruby! Tell them.”
“All right!” she said.
Olivia picked up her novel from the table. “You should leave now if you want a ride into town with Hetty.”
Ruby stood up from the couch and gathered her things. She stopped at the door, turning to her friend. When Olivia looked up, she said, “Thank you.”
* * *
—
Except, instead of confronting her parents, Ruby accepted an invitation to the museum.
I’m late.
She raced up the stairs to the museum’s grand doors. Harrison Barton was already waiting for her inside. She slowed her pace so she could watch him unnoticed. He was dressed in a new suit, immaculately tailored to hug every inch of him. He swung a bouquet of deep red roses while he paced, appearing about as nervous as she felt.
He whipped around at the sound of her footsteps, which echoed loudly in the cavernous room. Ruby’s breaths came in little puffs that doubled in rate when he looked at her. He smelled of fresh aftershave and sage, and his shoes were shined to a polished gleam. She decided to focus on calming herself, each breath slow and deliberate.
“Good afternoon, Miss Tremaine,” he said formally, handing her the flowers.
She noted his tone, the way he tugged at the sleeves of his jacket and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Thank you, good sir. They’re exquisite.” She glanced at the painting behind them, two lovers embracing beside a river. “This painting—” she began.
“Ruby.” He said her name with such tenderness, her own voice quieted.
He stilled, inhaled, then closed the space between them. “I want you to know, Ruby, I never stopped thinking about you either. You surprise me, every day, with your wit, your laughter. I admire your passion and your strength, especially in the quiet moments when we’ve shared thoughts revealed to no one else. And I admire your bravery in choosing what you want.” He cleared his throat. “I love you, Ruby.”
Harrison Barton knelt before her, a velvet box held aloft. Any words Ruby might have had fled. Her skin tingled all over. Her hands felt numb. It took all her strength to hold on to the bouquet. Beyond the box, he looked at her as if she were the sun. Her heart felt enormous, making it hard to breathe.
“Miss Tremaine,” he said, “will you make me the happiest, luckiest man in the world?” He opened the box to reveal a large ruby, haloed by bright sparkling diamonds, and set on a fine gold band. “Ruby, will you marry me?”