The Davenports(98)

“I do not care about your plans, Mother,” Ruby said evenly. “I will not be marrying John. I love Harrison Barton and I do not care if that throws a wrench in your plans. I want to be happy. It’s my life and my decision. I will not let you and Papa bully me anymore.”

By the time Ruby finished speaking, her pulse was the only sound she could hear. She stuffed her feet back into her shoes. Air. She needed fresh air. Ruby walked in the opposite direction of the broaches, ignoring the stares of shoppers and attendants.

Aren’t there any windows?

“Is that Ruby Tremaine? I do say it is.”

Ruby cringed.

Agatha Leary stood a few feet away, arms crossed, as she sized Ruby up. “That’s an interesting frock,” she said.

“Agatha, lovely to see you, though I do think you could have used a few more hours of sleep.”

Agatha laughed. It was a tinny sound and framed by a glare. “I was hoping you could clear something up for me. I heard you and Mr. Barton ended things. Does that mean he’s back on the market?”

For a moment Ruby saw red as deep as the stone dangling from her neck. She had a mind to throttle Agatha Leary right there in front the makeup counter. If it weren’t for the glorious blast of cool air from the entrance, she might have.

“Actually, I heard he’s taken.” Ruby straightened and followed the breeze to the exit. She let her feet carry her to where her heart led. She ignored the strange looks she received. The clips and pins holding the dress in place had begun to fail. Ruby didn’t care. A short streetcar ride later, she climbed the stairs of the brownstone nestled behind a large flowering tree. She knocked on the door, pounding her fist until a stooped woman opened it. Beyond her, on the staircase to the second floor, Harrison Barton gaped.

Ruby hesitated. “Excuse me,” she breathed, smiling. She squeezed herself between his housekeeper and the door. Her strides matched Mr. Barton’s until they met at the bottom of the stairs. “I know what I want. I want a life with you. I do not want to keep going back and forth. I have told my mother. You can take a page out in the paper for all I care! I love you, dammit!”

He was so still, Ruby was afraid she’d frightened him beyond any repair of their relationship. Then he scooped a hand at the nape of her neck and brought her lips to his. Ruby’s toes curled in her boots. She parted her lips as their kiss deepened. This was her only choice.

A clatter broke them apart. The older woman had slammed the door. Ruby and Harrison Barton stared at each other, eyes bright and grinning from ear to ear.

“Anything else you’d like to tell me?” he asked.

Ruby looked down at her chest. “I think I stole this dress.”





CHAPTER 47


    Olivia



The early morning sun painted the horizon in blue and gold, chasing away the stars in their purple blanket of sky. What Olivia told her sister last night was true: Everything would look different in the morning. From her window overlooking the courtyard, she noticed the flagstones had been cleared of the party debris. The tables where dinner was served had since been carried away, along with the linens, the centerpieces, and other trappings of the meal. The glasses and discarded bottles of champagne that cluttered the corners of the lounge furniture tossed. The results of her hard work swept clean.

Olivia exhaled deeply and watched her breath fog the glass of the now-shut window. When she closed her eyes, she was transported to the train platform. Hidden in the press of the crowd, she watched Washington DeWight search for her. Her heart ached as her feet remained where they were. The disappointment in his face left her queasy. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Returning home to see the party still swinging like she hadn’t even left had only made it worse.

Mama and Helen know, she thought to herself.

Helen had seemed stricken, while her mother was both relieved and triumphant. Olivia felt drained.

She was surprised to hear the knock at her door long after she had crawled beneath her duvet and settled in to stare at the canopy above her. Sleep had also eluded Helen, who, still wrapped in a blanket of her own, burrowed beside her. They had stayed up late into the night, talking about everything and nothing—all the things they should have been sharing the past few years.

They had talked until their voices were hoarse and the candles burned out. Helen wanted to make plans. A plan to get Olivia back to Mr. DeWight and another to break the news of Mr. Lawrence’s betrayal to their parents. Olivia wanted her sister to wait. If they ruined Mr. Lawrence’s good standing in their parents’ eyes, there would be no way for him to earn their trust again, if ever Helen should want him to. Plus, propriety also had to be considered since he was so recently attached to Olivia. Helen claimed not to care. Olivia knew that was the pain speaking.

“You’re awake.” Helen’s head appeared in a gap between the mix of their bedding.

“Well, someone snored uncontrollably all night.”

“I don’t snore,” Helen said.

“And she also hogged all the covers.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you slept with your windows closed like a normal person.” Helen threw the blankets to the floor and stretched like a cat. “Have you decided what you want to do?”

Olivia wanted to get back to work. Find Hetty and regroup. She wanted to make plans of her own. Her feelings for Washington DeWight helped her to see that. “We can plot on full stomachs,” she said, pulling her sister to her feet.