Chapter Twenty
“You,” Gray said accusingly, as Hannah clung to his arm, humming a tune from the show as they left the theater after the cast party, “are tipsy.”
She slowed her steps and glanced up to him.
“Yes. Quite so. Tipsy,” she said, reaching up to touch a gloved forefinger to the tip of his nose, “Perspicacious of you, sir. But since I said that so very well, you will note that I am not drunk, or soused, or dreadfully inebriated. So you see, you’ll have to leave off your vile plans to seduce me, villain.
Because I know just what I am doing, and I love doing it, because I am merely merrily tipsy, thank you very much. ”
She missed a step and giggled. He helped her into the hackney coach, and when they sat back, kissed her. When he stopped, he sighed.
“It’s hard being a really good vile seducer when I live so darned far off,” he complained, as he nosed her ear. “By the time I got you back to my place way out there at the top of the park, you’d be stony sober, and with your hangover already starting.”
“But I’m not drunk,” she protested in a soft little voice.
“I really do just feel giddy. It’s not the champagne—although that does help,” she admitted so prettily he moved to kiss her again.
Before he could, she said wistfully, “But seducing me, drunken or sober, might be quite impossible, you know, however good a villain you may be.”
And then he did kiss her, to silence her and all her fears, for the moment.
Her mouth was so warm, her body so pliant, her response so eager—as eager as his own, that he tried to disregard the taste of champagne on her lips and believe it was all honestly for him.
Because even though he knew it was perfectly honorable to hold her and kiss her now, he’d a personal code, and making love to drunken women was not part of it.
That thought was the only thing that could take his mind from the sweetness of her mouth.
Then the faint taste of alcohol reminded him of something his old friend and physician back home had said only days before.
He thought of the future and drew back, considering it.
“Not drunk?” he asked, grinning, his gaze lingering on her plump lips. “Now how would you know?”
“I’ll have you know, sir,” she said with great aplomb, “that I have been very drunk in my day. How else should I know how to play a sot? Father said he once got himself blind, as research. And so did I,” she giggled.
“It was ghastly. Not like this. I was sick,” she said luxuriously, “for hours. But then I knew I could play a drunk as well as anyone.”
“Uh-huh,” he said as the coach slowed. “Now let’s see if you can play a sober lady, because you’re home. Are you going to weave up the stairs and shock your landlady? I see her curtains parting.”
“I shall be a model of decorum,” Hannah said with majesty, and immediately ruined the effect by giggling at the very idea.
But her laughter fled when they reached the small hallway of the brownstone, and she saw the look in her landlady’s eyes as her door opened.
Those small, knowing eyes took in her lovely lodger’s blushed lips and slightly tousled condition, as well as the elegance of her escort’s dress, seeming to see beneath his evening cape to the half-finished bottle of champagne Hannah had insisted he secrete there—and those narrowed eyes said everything that had ever been said about the manners and morals of ladies of the theater, without a word being spoken.
“Ah, good evening, Mrs. Prescott,” Hannah said with complete sobriety, for the situation had chased all her merriment away.
“Allow me to present my fiancé, Mr. Graham Dylan, to you.” She paused, the sudden realization that she’d really no reason to be shamed now competing with all her ingrained habits.
“We are to be married soon—very soon,” she said with dawning wonder.
“Why, in fact. I’m giving notice that my rooms will be available to let right after the new year. ”
Mrs. Prescott squinted.
“Dylan? Gray-ham Dylan? Of the Fifth Avenoo Dylans?” Mrs. Prescott gasped, and as Hannah nodded, she went on excitedly, “I thawt so! Yez being in the theayter and all. It’s like they sez in the papers,” she breathed in delight.
“How d’ja do, Mr. Dylan. Congratulations to yez, and a Happy New Year, and no hurry about vacating the premises, dearie, no hurry at all.
Take yer time. Pleased to meetcha,” she said again, adjusting her spectacles to get a better look at Gray, looking far more thrilled than pleased to see him.
“Madam,” Gray said solemnly, bowing, before he turned to Hannah and said with an air of great command, “I’ll just see you upstairs then, my dear.”
As they went up the stairs, Mrs. Prescott called after them, “Anything yez needs, jist call on me, yez hear?”
It was only when her door was closed that Hannah dared to laugh. And then only when Gray, after suppressing several apt but shocking comments, said, mimicking Mrs. Prescott: “Anything yez wants dearies—anytime of the day or night.”
He smiled down at Hannah, and opened his arms wide.
“You don’t have to worry anymore. My money’s made us respectable, no matter what she hears going on here. Lord,” he said prayerfully as she came into his embrace, “God bless respectable landladies!”
When he finally let her go, she stepped back, suddenly aware of the night, the time, and several other things.
“Gray?” she said in a slightly quavering voice, her eyes wide, “We’re going to be married in three days’ time? Three days? I suppose that with all that was happening tonight—my getting onstage and getting it right, and then getting out of ever having to do it again—I forgot that.”
“Did you want a church wedding?” he asked, suddenly grave as she was.
“I didn’t think. I really just wanted us married, and fast, because I was afraid you’d change your mind—I wasn’t joking about that.
But if you want more of a wedding, that’s Okay with me, we’ll just send word to Josh and your folks and… ”
“No, no,” she said. “No, it’s fine. Anyway,” she added with a slight, tremulous grin, “Father’s probably invited half the world already and advised all the newspapers, too—it will make very good print you know, however famous he is, he always appreciates publicity.
Such a dramatic thing, after all, with him stepping in to save the day, and a New Year’s Eve wedding in a fine mansion…
I suppose Father ought to have offered to make the wedding,” she said as she realized it.
“But he doesn’t know about such things, and was likely more impressed by your brother’s offer.
It’s fine with me. Except the whole world will be there, won’t they.
Gray?” she asked, the fine color fading from her cheeks, her eyes wide and frightened.
He stood watching her, frowning at the change in her.
“We’ll be married in three days’ time,” she said wonderingly, and looked at him as though she were seeing him for the first time.
“Uh-huh,” he said on a sigh, and then seemed to come to a decision. He cast off his cape and produced the bottle of champagne.
“You were right, darling,” he drawled. “You’re not drunk.
Not half enough. Now, come on, we’ll drink a toast to us.
Fancy weddings are like funerals, they’re not for the folks they’re given for.
They’re for all the guests. Tonight will be for us.
After all, a lot has happened,” he said, thinking, as he knew she was, as she bit her lip, of all that would happen.
“And then,” he said briskly, “we’ll sit and talk about it until there’s nothing scary left. If it takes all night. After all, we’ve got your respectable landlady’s permission, haven’t we?”
He grinned. “But yeah,” he sighed as she came into his arms again. “You’re right again. First, we do this.”
“Yes, I suppose we can live part of the time in Wyoming Territory, and part of it in New York,” Hannah said from where she sat snug in the circle of Gray’s arm, on her comfortable old couch.
“By next year, we’ll likely be a state of the union,” Gray said proudly, “so you might even find you want to live there longer—at least until any daughters we have can grow up and vote. Yeah,” he said, as she gazed up at him with widened eyes, “looks like we’re going to be the first state to give you women the vote.
Well, what can you expect of a bunch of lonely fellows who’ll do just about anything to make you girls happy enough to stay with us out there? ” he joked.
“The vote? Really? But how wonderful!” she cried, and then fell still, suddenly thinking about the prospective children he’d mentioned, even as he realized what he’d said and damned himself for bringing up such a touchy subject as this, of all nights.
“Too bad Royal and Peggy won’t be able to come in for the ceremony in time,” he said quickly. “I’ll wire them tomorrow just to tell them about it, though. But beware his idea of a fitting wedding present,” he added to make her smile. “Likely to find a cow on our front doorstep.”
She chuckled, but then sighed. “Even though he may give us something lovely, I suppose I’ve already given my father the best wedding present of all, haven’t I?” she mused sadly.
His arm tightened around her and his thoughts were black. Of all the things he wished for tonight, and he wished for a great many, with luck being foremost, he’d time to wish his new fiancé were not quite so forgiving.
“After all, he gets publicity even when he’s between important shows, and a chance to show his daughter’s not a patch on him. But I sure had him worried for a time there, though, didn’t I?” she asked wickedly.
She giggled again as he turned to her, his blue eyes incandescent, alight with pleased laughter.