Dare to Love (61 page)

I had finished my bath and was tying the sash of my dressing gown when I heard the sitting room door open. Millie burst in laden with white boxes and aglow with vitality, her long golden curls all atumble. She dropped the boxes on the sofa, smiled her mischievious pixie smile and did a little dance step, lifting her dark pink skirt up over her petticoats.

“You must have had quite a day,” I remarked. _ “Marvelous!” she declared. “I think it might well be the best day of my life. He's hooked, Elena. Hooked good and proper. He finally asked me to marry him!”

“I assume you're talking about Bradford.”

“I didn't think he was
ever
going to get around to it.”

“And you've known him a good ten days.”

“Don't be sarcastic. I'm in
such
a good mood. He was so serious about it. He took my hand there on the beach—we went to the beach today, two or three miles down the coast, gorgeous country—and he looked into my eyes and said he wanted to settle down.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn't say anything. I just looked demure and expectant. He told me he'd been saving his money to buy a small ranch and wants to take me there as his bride. He said he reckoned he'd fallen in love with me, reckoned I was the first woman he'd ever loved.”

She moved over to the mirror and brushed a skein of golden hair from her temple, and when she turned around her eyes were pensive.

“I was thrilled, and touched, too. He really meant it. He really loves me. It isn't just sex, although he's terribly greedy in that department. Terribly good, too, I might add. He held my hand and looked into my eyes, and I actually felt like crying. I don't think anyone has ever really loved me before, not the way James does.”

“You're lucky to have found him, Millie.”

“I guess maybe I am. He's not what I had in
mind
, not by a long shot, but—I'm going to give it some serious consideration just the same. I've had to look out for myself ever since I can remember. I was out on my own by the time I was thirteen, nothing between me and starvation but sheer determination to survive—” As she paused to remember, there was a long silence, and then she shook her head and sighed.

“It might be nice to have someone else take care of me for a while. I may marry him. I just may do it.”

“Did you tell him so?”

The engaging minx re-emerged. “Of course not!” she exclaimed. “I intend to keep him in suspense for a while. Can't have him getting
too
sure of himself. He's bossy enough as it is.”

I smiled and asked her what was in the boxes.

“Well, beaches and scenery are all very well if you like that sort of thing, but after a while they begin to pall. James had been promising to take me to Montgomery Street so I could do some shopping, and I suggested we get back in the buggy and
go
. Montgomery Street's fabulous. The sidewalks are piled high with boxes of merchandise. You have to step out into the street in order to get to the doors, and once inside the stores—”

She opened box after box, showing me the treasures she'd found and enthusiastically describing the wonders of San Francisco's shopping district. One could buy goods from all over the world, she said, and every store was like Aladdin's Cave.

“James was patient for the first couple of hours,” she confided. “Then he grew more and more restless, and finally literally dragged me away! We must go together, Elena. Wait till you see the silks from Japan and the furs from Russia!”

While she put her finds back into their boxes, tissue paper crackling, I glanced at the clock and said that I had to start dressing. She looked surprised.

“You've finally accepted an invitation?”

“Not really. Anthony's taking me out to dinner.”

“
That
's certainly a novelty. I'll help you get ready. I've plenty of time. James is taking me down to the waterfront for seafood, but we aren't leaving until nine. I guess Anthony's had his fill of the gambling halls,” she added as we left the sitting room.

“What do you mean?”

“He's been going to the gambling halls every night, ever since we got here.”

“Really?”

I sat down at the dressing table. Millie picked up brush and comb and began to work on my hair.

“He's lost a bundle. At the tables, I mean. James and I saw him at The Golden Nugget a couple of nights ago. He was very dapper, very composed, but he was down to his last gold piece. He put it on black, and red came up. He pretended not to care, but I could see he was upset.”

I shrugged. If Anthony wanted to squander his money, it was no concern of mine. Millie finished with my hair and stepped back to examine her handiwork. She had pulled it back in soft waves, arranging it in a sculptured roll in back.

“What are you going to wear?” she asked.

“I don't know. Something grand. He promised to take me to the finest restaurant in town.”

Millie prowled through the wardrobe, a thoughtful look in her eyes as she examined the gowns. “What about the black velvet?”

“That'll do nicely. It's certainly grand.”

Selecting a dark red lip rouge, I put on my make-up and was just reaching for the gown when someone knocked on the sitting room door. Millie hurried to answer it, and I heard the messenger boy's familiar voice.

“You again!” Millie said.

The messenger said something I couldn't hear, and then Millie came back into the bedroom with an envelope and a long black leather box.

“Nick Wayne,” she announced. “He doesn't give up, does he? The boy says Mr. Wayne expects an answer.”

I read the note aloud. “‘Is tonight the night I shall have the pleasure of your company? I'm hoping the answer will finally be yes. Nick Wayne.'”

“The poor man is obviously suffering,” Millie observed. “Open the box. Let's sneak a look before you return it.”

I snapped back the lid and removed the diamond bracelet from its nest of black satin. Over a hundred diamonds sparkled with rainbow-hued fires as I held up the bracelet.

“Lord!” Millie exclaimed. “Do you
have
to give it back?”

Dropping the bracelet back into the box, I closed the lid and handed her the box. “Tell the boy there is no reply.”

I slipped into the gown and spread its skirt out over the rustling layers of red silk petticoats. Millie returned to help me fasten the back, a wistful expression on her face.

“No one ever sends
me
diamonds,” she complained. “I'm lucky if I get a pat on the cheek. I hear that Nick Wayne is extremely good-looking, and he's thirty-five years old, and considered the best catch in all California.”

“I've no doubt he'll make some woman very happy.”

“You're not even
cu
rious?”

“Not in the least,” I replied, affixing a short, curling red plume on the left side of my hair and pulling on the long red satin gloves Millie handed to me.

“You're going to create a sensation,” she announced. “People are going to drop their forks when you walk into the restaurant.”

Gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I wondered at the glamorous creature I saw. Elena Lopez was the epitome of sophisticated allure, but the dark blue eyes were melancholy, the red lips discontent. I had been playing a role for so long, and most of the time I had enjoyed it, but the woman inside was growing tired of the part. I wondered how much longer I would be able to sustain it.

Millie gave me a hug, then gathered up her boxes, told me to have a marvelous time and left the suite. Anthony had gone back to the theater for a business conference with the management and hadn't been specific as to when he would come for me. I decided to go down to the lobby and wait for him there. I didn't want to be alone. I had spent far too much time alone of late, restless, bothered, thinking of that night at the hacienda and the man who had wooed me with such ease.

I moved down the hall toward the grand staircase. People would stare. Let them. I was prepared for it. I paused at the top of the stairs, smoothing one of my gloves, stepping into character. Elena Lopez was on again. I could feel the eyes of strangers, hear their murmurs as I descended the stairs. The vast lobby was crowded, but no one approached me as I left the staircase and moved to stand beside one of the enormous potted plants.

Several minutes passed. I was beginning to grow impatient as the clock ticked away and there was still no sign of Anthony. I brooded. Why couldn't he do anything properly? Why must he be so cavalier? I wouldn't be at all surprised if he didn't even show up. He'd better, I thought, tapping the toe of my shoe on the carpet. As I glanced around the lobby, I noticed a man in a dark beige suit standing across the room, staring at me with a calm, level gaze, and I realized that he had been doing so for quite some time.

Our eyes met. He didn't look away. He nodded politely and continued to gaze. He was very tall with a sturdy muscular build and thick reddish-brown hair neatly parted and brushed sleekly to one side. His eyes were a deep brown, his dark eyebrows straight, his features strong and perfectly chiseled. Not really handsome, he was nevertheless striking with the solid good looks that inspire confidence in men and give women a feeling of security. The beige suit was carefully tailored to flatter his physique and augmented by a brown brocade waistcoat patterned with bronze and darker brown leaves, and a bronze silk neckcloth. The entire ensemble signaled the wearer as a man of importance.

Discomfited by his steady gaze, which was neither rude nor blatant, I looked away, though I remained acutely aware of it as several more minutes went by and Anthony still didn't show up. I was just getting ready to go back up to my suite when Anthony hurried across the lobby toward me.

“Sorry, luv. I got held up at the theater on business. Will you forgive me? I've got a carriage waiting out front. Incidentally, you look smashing.”

“Mr. Duke?”

Anthony turned. He tensed. Bright pink spots of anger flamed on his cheeks as the man in beige stepped over to us.

“I've been wanting to talk to you,” the man said. “Would you like to introduce me to your lovely companion?”

“Not a chance!” Anthony retorted, taking hold of my elbow and propelling me toward the door with such speed that I found myself tottering. I didn't have to ask him who the man was. I already knew.

XLIV

Ordinarily I am jittery and on edge and unfit company for anyone on opening night. So, as I dressed to go to the theater, I wondered why I felt so cool, so calm, so … indifferent—that was the perfect word to describe the way I felt. I would do my best tonight. I would give my all, but for some reason success or failure no longer mattered as it had in the past.

It was eleven-thirty, and I was due at the theater at twelve. No lunch would be served today. All of us would snack lightly after the dress rehearsal on food sent in by the management.

As I prepared to leave, I thought about Anthony. He hadn't been at all himself for the past two days, not since we had gone to dinner together. He had been edgy and testy and impossible to get along with, snapping at everyone, brooding the rest of the time. I was concerned about him. Though I ignored his irritability, the constant worried look in his eyes bothered me a great deal. And when I finally asked him what was wrong he stormed at me, telling me to worry about my dancing and leave him alone. He apologized to me later on, giving me an affectionate hug and saying he hadn't meant to be such a bear, but the worried look remained in his eyes.

I knew I'd find out eventually what was worrying him, and then I would do what I could to help him. He'd probably made another ridiculous investment that had fallen through.

I walked into the sitting room to wait for Millie and Bradford who would take me to the theater in Bradford's rented buggy. Anthony had already left. Someone knocked and I opened the door immediately.

Nicholas Wayne looked surprised. He couldn't have been more surprised than I was.

“Good morning,” he said. “I was expecting a maid to open the door.”

“You're in luck, it seems. Had a maid opened the door I'd have told her to inform you that I was out.”

“You know who I am?”

“I do, Mr. Wayne. And I'm very busy.”

“I'd like to talk to you.”

“You'd only be wasting your time,” I informed him, “and, more importantly, mine.”

“I don't think so,” he replied.

Standing with my hand resting on the door, I gazed at him coolly. His reddish-brown hair was neatly brushed to one side as it had been the other night, and his deep brown eyes were calm, confident. He smelled of bay rum and leather, a clean, masculine smell that suited him perfectly.

“Have you brought diamonds?” I inquired.

“I'm afraid not.”

“Not even a bouquet of flowers, I see. What is it you wish to talk to me about, Mr. Wayne? I'm really in a hurry, I'm due at the theater and—”

“May I come in?”

“Oh, I suppose so,” I relented.

I moved aside to let him pass, closed the door and went over to sit down on the sofa. I didn't ask him to sit, deliberately omitting that courtesy. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, burnishing his hair and giving it a bronze sheen. I hadn't realized before just how large he was, how tall and sturdy. Nick Wayne seemed to exude power, and he had the kind of presence that would take him far if he did indeed go into politics.

“What is it you want?” I asked.

“I want to take you to dinner.”

“You're very persistent.”

“Very,” he agreed. “I generally get what I want.”

“Not in this instance,” I promised.

He smiled a beautiful smile, warm, humorous and very persuasive. He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, and his jacket bunched back, revealing more of the splendid waistcoat.