Chapter 14
At last, Hank was satisfied that he had ironed every last wrinkle out of his dress uniform and polished his shoes to a mirror shine.
He sat on his bed in his union suit staring at it.
Would Rory approve? Ladies always liked a man in dress uniform, so starched and formal.
But tonight, he’d be competing with men in full black-tie formal wear, men like Edward who could buy everything Hank owned many times over.
That said, the uniform was a great equalizer.
Scions of wealthy families who joined the armed forces wore the same uniforms as nobodies from Michigan.
Would the senator be there? For Rory’s sake, he hoped not.
But her father might have overridden her objections.
If that smug son-of-a-bitch had the nerve to show his face, Hank would make him regret it.
If he wasn’t there, though, Hank hoped to find a quiet moment with the birthday girl to say goodbye.
Earlier, he went to the barber for a haircut and shave so that he would look as debonaire as he could manage.
His chances of kissing her goodbye were less than zero, but he wanted to be perfectly smooth for her, nonetheless.
The time had come. He dabbed the merest hint of cologne on himself and dressed.
Looking in the mirror, he couldn’t help but be pleased with the results.
He might not be a fancy industrialist or financier, but the olive uniform with the wide leather belt had a heroism to it that no formalwear could convey, no matter how expensive.
On the drive to the Waldorf, his determination to keep his distance after the party grew.
They were from two different worlds and didn’t belong together, not to mention that his job was too dangerous to contemplate a committed relationship with anyone, let alone her.
How could he have let her get under his skin like that?
This had to be the end. The game had gone too far.
They were not meant to be together, and if he had to be the strong one and resist temptation, so be it.
He walked up the steps, firm in his conviction, striding with purpose toward the ballroom where he’d been directed.
This hotel was one swanky joint with its thick, lush carpet and electric fixtures lighting his way.
Determination filled him as he walked through the ballroom doors and took in the crowd, keeping an eye out for Edward just in case.
All his good intentions fell away when he saw her.
Christ, she was gorgeous! That pale blue gown she was wearing perfectly matched her eyes.
Her arms were bare to the shoulder where beaded straps were all that held up her gown.
All that creamy skin was just begging for his caress.
He wanted to pluck those little straps right off and watch the whole gown slide down over her soft curves until it puddled on the floor.
Speaking of curves, that neckline was damned near indecent.
The swell of her breasts was barely covered by draping fabric that looked as if it might slip at any moment to reveal the pink of her nipples.
And the back was even worse, leaving her bare to the waist. He wanted to trace her spine with his fingers and watch her nipples tighten in response.
It would take so little to run his hand beneath the slinky fabric to cup her gorgeous ass.
No, that was not what he was there for. Hold it together, Hawley.
The skirt seemed safe enough, all swoops and drapes down to her ankles, but then she moved, revealing decadent glimpses of calf and shin as she glided around the room.
For a moment, everything else disappeared, and all he could do was stare.
A nudge from O’Donnell brought him out of his reverie. “If you want your secret to stay secret, you’d better stop staring at her like a piece of cake you’re about to devour.”
“Hmm?” He looked at his lanky friend. O’Donnell cleaned up nice when he tried.
“Fortunately, you aren’t the only man drooling over her this evening. Half of them seem to be able to look at nothing else. Your gaping doesn’t seem to have drawn attention. Yet.”
Word must have gotten around about her rift with Edward because O’Donnell was right.
The urge to swoop in and steal her away almost overwhelmed his good sense.
Those other men didn’t deserve to see her like this.
Every last one of them was imagining her naked, he was certain, and the thought made him see red.
O’Donnell steered him over to the bar and got him a whiskey.
Hank deliberately turned his gaze to his friend and away from Rory and her many admirers.
He almost would have preferred Edward’s presence to this.
At least then he could have concentrated all his loathing in one place.
It would be a small miracle if he made it through the night without starting a brawl.
Hank forced himself to breathe and smile. Thank God for whiskey!
“Quite the swanky shindig, eh?” O’Donnell said, clinking glasses with Hank. “I’ve never seen the like, nor do I expect to again. Did you see the ice sculptures in the shape of a Jenny?”
Looking over where O’Donnell was pointing, he saw a buffet table dripping with fresh fruit and little bite-sized baked things he didn’t know the name of, flanked by two formidable sculptures of airplanes.
At the center of the table was a five-tiered cake covered with fanciful frosting flowers.
Waiters circulated with glasses of champagne, offering them to guests seated at round tables arranged around a central dance floor.
A live band was setting up at the front.
Had her engagement party been this ritzy?
He’d wondered more than once what it would have been like if he had stayed with her the night that they met instead of letting her go back on her own.
What if he’d sauntered into the middle of that party, dressed in his oil-stained uniform with her on his arm, a humble knight to defend her honor?
All hell would have broken loose. That was what.
But now every time he passed the Turf and Field Club, he imagined the scene and wondered what it was like inside.
He’d probably never find out, but he imagined it was something like this.
The room they were in looked like a wedding cake with marble pillars and decorative plasterwork on the ceiling.
Electric chandeliers hung down, turned just high enough to sparkle and provide a bit of ambient light to complement the candles on the tables.
It was only slightly brighter than a nightclub, but still, Rory was bright as the moon as she traversed the room.
Even as he tried not to look, he sensed her, following her in his mind when he couldn’t with his eyes.
Had she seen him yet? He didn’t think so. He was hiding in a corner with O’Donnell who was perusing the other ladies in attendance, looking for potential dance partners.
“Oh, I like that one over there in the black dress with the auburn hair. She doesn’t look as hoity-toity as the rest. I bet I could get her to dance with me.”
Hank looked over at the woman in question. She had lovely green eyes, a dress that was several years out of fashion, and seemed as out of place as they were in this party. “Be careful. She might be a war widow and may not be in the mood for dancing,” Hank said, putting two and two together.
“Pshaw,” said O’Donnell, taking a drink. “All the more reason to get her to dance. She needs a little fun in her life, and I’m just the man to give it to her.”
At that moment, a spotlight turned on a podium, and Major Belmont stepped up. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we all know why we’re gathered here this evening. We’re here to raise funds for a very worthy cause: the Pilots’ Benevolent Association.”
Hank had to stifle a snort of laughter at that.
The major must not be aware the organization was invented less than a month ago.
There was applause all around. Hank’s gaze traveled to Rory, and his laughter died.
Her lovely lips turned down in a frown. And then it hit him.
The major made no mention of Rory even though it was her own damned birthday party.
“It’s a pleasure to see so many of my friends here tonight, showing their support.
I, myself, plan to make a generous donation,” Major Belmont continued.
“I’ve met several young ladies here this evening that will be beneficiaries of our gifts.
Their stories are tragic and moving. We’ve lost too many brave young men in this war, and our pilots are amongst the bravest of the bunch.
Let’s make sure these young women get the support they deserve after the tremendous sacrifice their families have made for our country. ”
There was more applause. And still not one mention of Rory.
“And now I would like to introduce the head of this wonderful charitable effort, Evelyn Carnegie.”
The major stepped aside, and Rory pressed her lips together in a thin line. What a way to treat your own daughter on her birthday!
A petite brunette took the stage, piercing the crowd with fiery brown eyes. Despite her size, she had every bit as much poise and presence as Major Belmont.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Evelyn said in a clear, ringing voice.
“Thank you for gathering this evening to support this wonderful cause. And a special thank you to the young women that agreed to come this evening to share their stories with you. I encourage you to speak with them and hear their stories of bravery in adversity. I am proud to support such strong, upright women who have lost so much in supporting our cause overseas. They are truly inspiring.”
Hank was impressed. Somehow, Rory and her friend had turned his imaginary organization into a real charity in less than a month. It was quite a feat.