THE DOCTOR STEPPED back. “I think you’ll live, John.”
John wasn’t so sure. Every muscle ached, and his gut throbbed from the kicks. “Thanks, Doc.” He slipped off the examining table.
“I’ll give you a packet of pain powder. Take it with food. And rest.”
“I’ll try.”
The doctor’s smile vanished. “How bad is it, John? The bank, I mean?”
“Bad.” He still hoped to be able to call in some loans and stay afloat. He’d spent two hours going over the books and trying to find a way to avert further catastrophe. The chances were slim to nonexistent.
The doctor’s worried frown deepened. “Did my wife show up?”
John buttoned his shirt carefully over the bandage. “Yes, sir. She was one of the first in line. Your money is safe.”
The doctor leaned his head back and sighed. “Thank you, God.”
“Hundreds more weren’t so lucky,” John said. He put on his hat and thanked the doctor again before limping out to his buggy.
People on the street glared and stepped around him. News traveled fast, especially bad news. He suspected Henry might have already heard by the time John got back to the manor. In fact, he expected his father-in-law to be waiting for him at the door. It astounded him that Henry hadn’t come to the bank.
He left the town limits behind and breathed easier as the cool shadows in the trees fell across his face. Birds chirped overhead, and the babble of the river running beside the road soothed his spirit. He wanted to hold his boy in his arms and forget today had ever happened.
Not likely he’d be allowed that privilege. Henry would want a complete description of the day and a plan of attack for pulling them all from ruin. And though John could throw it back on Henry’s shoulders, the reality remained that this disaster affected his son as well.
At the manor, he turned the motorcycle over to the groom, then strode inside. The servants scurried up and down the stairs with armloads of decorations and chairs for the ballroom on the third floor. The ball was tomorrow night.
Clara greeted him at the door. She was paler than usual. “Is it true?” she demanded. “Is our money all gone?”
“The bank failed,” he said.
Her lids fluttered, and she sagged. He caught her and half carried her to the sofa in the parlor. “Sally, get some water,” he called to a servant he saw passing by the doorway.
He fanned Clara with his hand until Sally returned, then held the glass to Clara’s lips. She swallowed, then sputtered. Her eyes opened. Daze changed to panic when her gaze locked with his.
“What are we going to do?” she shrieked. Her hands went to her hair, and she yanked on it until it came free from its pins.
“Hush, Clara.” He pulled her arms down. “Henry has more assets. You’ll be fine. It’s the common people in town who have lost their life’s savings.” Even if the other businesses were mortgaged, they were bringing in money. Henry’s kind always made out.
He pushed her back against the sofa. “Rest. Where’s Henry?”
“On his way home.” She moaned again. “We must put on a brave front. It’s too late to cancel the ball.”
Saturday night, Addie stood in a corner of the third-floor ballroom in her borrowed finery. The space glittered with gaslight from the chandeliers and sconces around the gilded room. The gleaming wood floor bounced back the brilliance. The tray ceiling rose to a skylight that allowed moonlight to filter into the room as well.
The luxurious fabric of the dress she wore rustled with every movement. Behind her black velvet mask, she could observe without fear of people watching. She tried to imagine herself as Alice Roosevelt, confident and in control. But no amount of mind trickery persuaded her to move from her corner. Her hands perspired inside the gloves that came past her elbows.
Laughing couples swung by as the live band played. None of them looked familiar in their fancy attire and masks. She hoped no one would ask her to dance until her nervousness eased. This was her first time at a ball, and she would likely embarrass herself and her family by stepping all over her partner’s feet. A sumptuous display of food was spread on white linen-covered tables along the west wall. She scanned the crowd for John but knew she wouldn’t recognize him if she saw him.
Just as well. Her thoughts kept going back to the plight of the Whittaker family. She should have done more. And the entire family was in an uproar about the bank failure. John had been grim and distracted when she got back from town, though she’d longed to share her day with him. She’d seen him and her father engaged in serious conversations throughout the day, but she’d been distracted with Clara’s demands for final arrangements for the ball.
Every muscle tightened when she saw Lord Carrington approaching—without a mask and dressed in his suit. She glanced away from his determined face to see if she could find help from any quarter. Behind her was a door to the hall, so she turned and slipped through it.
She heard Carrington call, “Miss Eaton.” She closed the door, then rushed away.
She should never have agreed to come. Her father was going to try to auction her off to the highest bidder. Her vision blurred, and she lifted her skirts to hurry. When she heard a male voice call out behind her, she put on another burst of speed. Then she recognized it as John’s voice. She turned to see him striding toward her in a black tail coat and pants and white bow tie. He wore a black velvet mask, but she would have recognized those broad shoulders anywhere.
“Not leaving so soon, are you?” he asked when he reached her.
“Lord Carrington was in pursuit,” she said.
He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “And you ran like a rabbit.”
“Like a jackrabbit,” she agreed, smiling. “How did you know it was me?”
He touched a curl hanging to her shoulder. “No one else has hair like that.”
His comment brought her pleasure. “Thank you. I think.” She smiled up into his face.
He put her hand on his arm and turned back toward the ballroom. “It’s necessary for us to face our fears. I promise to protect you.”
“How easy for you to say,” she said. “You aren’t out of your element like I am mine. I don’t even know how to dance.”
“We can remedy that.” He laid his right hand on top of hers, where it rested on his left arm. “I’m not the best dancer in the world, but I can waltz without breaking your toes.”
“I can’t give you the same promise,” she said. “You’ll be risking your feet if you dance with me.”
“I do believe it would be worth it,” he said, leading her back into the crowd.
Her father hailed her before they’d taken three steps toward the dance floor. “Julia, come here, please.” He stood in his tails with Clara on one side and Lord Carrington on the other. “Lord Carrington has been looking for you.”
The Englishman bent over her gloved hand. His blue eyes shone. “Please, call me Thomas,” he said. “You look lovely, Miss Eaton.”
“Addie,” she said without thinking.
“Julia,” her father corrected with a warning glint in his eye.
“It will take me some time to get used to that,” she said. She caught John’s smile, then bit her lip and glanced away.
“Would you care to dance?” Lord Carrington extended his arm.
Before she could admit she didn’t know how, John interrupted. “We were on our way to the floor when Henry called us over,” he said. “Shall we continue?” he asked her.
She placed her hand on his arm, and he led her to the center of the room. “What do I do?” she whispered.
He slipped his hand on the right side of her waist and took her left hand in his. “Follow me.”
The warmth of his hand penetrated the silk layers of her dress. His spicy scent filled her head. If she leaned forward, she could put her ear against his chest. Would his heart be pounding as hard as hers?
He counted off the rhythm in her ear. “One, two, three.”
Awkwardly at first, she let him guide her around the floor. Her skirt billowed around her in a most delicious way, and she couldn’t stop the smile that sprang to her lips as she figured out how to do it. “I’m waltzing!”
“And quite beautifully,” he said, smiling down into her face.
She rested her head against his chest and felt him wince. “Did I hurt your bruises?”
“It was a most delicious pain,” he said, smiling down at her.
She stopped in the middle of the dance floor. “I have a poultice to put on them. If I’d known of your injuries last night, I could have prevented much of your pain today.”
His smile widened. “Being with you is the best medicine, but I’ll allow any ministrations you want to make after this thing is over.”
She allowed him to whirl her around the floor again. She was out of breath by the time the dance ended. Lord Carrington came to take his turn, then another gentleman, whose name she didn’t remember. She kept an eye out for Lord Carrington’s reappearance, but she saw him in conversation with John. John winked at her as she danced by, and she knew he’d occupied the odious man on her behalf.
She’d first thought her attraction to John was simply because she wasn’t used to male attention. But she’d had plenty of it over the past two weeks, and she still sought him out. She loved him.