10. Preparing for a Ball
CHAPTER 10
PREPARING FOR A BALL
A half-hour later
Despite his having inherited everything in the three rooms he occupied above the stable, John was still hesitant to help himself to the nicer items he had discovered during the past few months he had worked there. At first, he was uncomfortable rifling through the trunks and boxes stacked in one corner of the room in which he slept. These had been another man’s possessions, possibly someone other than Mr. Perkins.
In a valet’s box, meant to hold cuff links and buckles, he found a cravat pin that appeared to be topped with a diamond. He was sure it was merely paste until he stabbed it into the mail coach knot of his neck cloth and admired how it winked in the light from a nearby hurricane lamp. What if it was real?
Tucked into the black velvet at the very bottom, he discovered a gold ring. He slid it onto his pinkie and held out his hand, sure it was real gold. Would it fit one of Ella Mae’s fingers? If so, perhaps his poor excuse for a betrothal ring, one he’d had the blacksmith fashion earlier that morning, wouldn’t be needed.
He once again pondered what he planned to do that evening. Without encouragement from Robert Montgomery and Mr. Perkins’ death, John never would have considered taking a wife—at least not at his age. But his circumstances had changed, and he feared if he waited too long to secure a promise of marriage from Ella Mae, she might end up married to someone else.
Thoughts of marriage reminded him he needed to make it to the masquerade ball.
He found a pair of riding boots, black and shined to a high gloss, tucked behind an empty trunk. The boots fit fine once he pulled on another pair of stockings. As to whether or not he would be able to dance in them, he wouldn’t find out until later that night.
Dressed in black from head to toe, John wondered if he might have been considered fashionable back East attending a night at the theatre. Not interested in appearing fashionable at the masquerade ball—he wanted to look like a highwayman—he tied a black bandana around his head so it covered his nose and lower face. With his eye patch covering his injured eye, his other eye required a similar patch but with an opening in the middle so he could see.
He fashioned the mask from a strip of black felt he had found in an old sewing basket and tied it behind his head. Regarding his reflection in a small shaving mirror, he realized he would not wish to meet himself in a dark alley. He appeared every bit the highwayman. Adding the top hat didn’t lessen the effect but rather made him seem more respectable.
Remembering Ella Mae’s costume would be white—at least what he could see of the gown she had been sewing when he had shopped in the dry goods store two days ago–John wondered if the contrast would be too much. Dressed in white, she would look like an angel while he would look like the Devil incarnate.
Too late now , he thought as he made his way out of his rooms above the stable and down the stairs. Grabbing a black riding crop from the tack room before he locked the stable doors, he headed for the DeSoto House Hotel.
Up and down the boardwalk, other townsfolk were making their way toward the hotel dressed in all manner of costumes. On a normal day, he would have felt too self-conscious to be seen in public in Galena. The son of a poor laborer, wearing an eye patch? Tonight, he felt empowered. In the ballroom on the fourth floor of the DeSoto House Hotel, no one would know his identity, at least not right away.
Ella Mae would, though. They had discussed this particular disguise. She owed him two dances, but most importantly, he hoped she might be willing to commit to more. Far more.