Chapter 53 #2
As they danced, she found her attention instinctively drawn to Dodge.
At present, he was dancing . . . with Rowena Gibbs.
A twinge of jealousy flickered inside her as she watched them together, and she couldn’t help but feel an equal twinge of satisfaction at the barely concealed frustration in his expression.
The music ended and everyone applauded. She thanked Mr. Daniel for the dance and turned to go.
“Oh no, Mrs. Dunham. I believe I said two dances, did I not? And I most definitely want to share this next one with you.”
The air suddenly filled with the rich, melodic swell of brass instruments, joined soon by woodwind and percussion, and Josephine searched the room until she saw the fully outfitted cornet band situated not far from the grand piano.
She looked back at Mr. Daniel and caught that customary twinkle in his eyes.
“Mrs. Dunham, may I present The Silver Cornet Band of Lynchburg, Tennessee.”
She shook her head. “Your doing, I take it.”
“I might have had a small hand in it. After all, music is my first love. Well, after whiskey and the company of beautiful women.” He winked.
“We outfitted the whole ensemble from the Sears, Roebuck & Company catalog. Best two hundred and seventy-seven dollars and seventy cents I’ve ever spent.
” He grasped her hand. “Now, Mrs. Dunham, I trust you know the waltz.”
“I did at one time, sir. But I’ll now have to lean heavily on your lead.”
“Music to my ears, madam.” He swept her along on the dance floor, the melody of “The Merry Widow Waltz” rising and swirling around them.
When the music finally ended, thunderous applause rose, and the band immediately launched into “The Washington Post,” a lively, energetic tune. A few couples continued dancing, but most moved off to the side to enjoy the music.
“Thank you for the pleasure of your company, Mrs. Dunham.”
“Likewise, Mr. Daniel. It was, indeed, a pleasure.”
He looked up at her. “What is it about you that makes me so at ease in your company?”
She smiled. “Perhaps it’s because I’m the one woman in this room not completely under your spell, sir.” She glanced around. “However, you must be aware that women are watching you even now, hoping you’ll ask them next.”
He sighed and gave his vest a sharp tug. “Yes, there’s much to be done in that arena. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mrs. Dunham.”
Inwardly shaking her head at the way he sauntered across the room, Josephine sought out the refreshment table and poured a cup of punch from an ornate crystal bowl, taking a small first sip to make sure it hadn’t been spiked.
It had not. Parched, she downed it, but before she could pour another, a gentleman approached.
One of the visitors from New York City, she felt certain, judging by his manner and attire.
“May I have this dance, madam?”
“Of course, you may, sir.”
He held her a little tighter and closer than she would have liked and when the music ended and another man cut in, she quickly wished the former a good evening.
There were four more dances with four different partners, two from out of town, and two locals—Mr. Carver from the mercantile who was already a little tipsy and who spent most of his time apologizing for stepping on her feet, then “their dear Mr. Prince” as Miss Mary called him, who discussed tax exemption and documentation the entire time. She was exhausted.
She made her way back to the refreshment table, politely declining two more invitations en route, then poured another cup of punch, took a quick sip, then downed it and two more.
She spotted Dodge dancing with Mrs. Gibbs, forced pleasantness in his features.
“You’re not good enough for him, you know.”
Josephine turned at the voice, and felt her back stiffen. “Miss Gibbs, how are you this evening?”
“Don’t you have any shame at all? We all know the truth about you.
How you’re with child and just pretending to be married.
Well, Mama is making sure right now that he knows everything about you.
And she’s getting ready to tell everybody else, too.
Right here. Tonight. Then we’ll see what he thinks.
And who he chooses.” Rowena pushed past her and maneuvered her way across the dance floor.
Josephine’s gaze traveled to Dodge who was still dancing with Mrs. Gibbs, sort of.
The woman was talking incessantly, scarcely drawing breath, while Dodge appeared to be losing patience by the second.
But what Mrs. Gibbs didn’t know, and for what Josephine was so grateful, was that Dodge Coburn already knew the worst about her. Still . . .
She decided it would be best if she took her leave.
Perhaps Mrs. Gibbs would forego her public declaration and not ruin the evening for Mr. Daniel and his guests.
She motioned to Dodge that she was leaving, and he quickly motioned back.
Then she paused, unclear on whether the nod of his head had been meant for her or Mrs. Gibbs.
Finally deciding he’d intended it for her, she slipped from the room and into the foyer where she was confronted with a group of very well-dressed men who had gathered to enjoy a generous supply of cigars and whiskey, as evidenced by the thick haze of smoke and the numerous empty bottles of Old No. 7 lining a side table.
She tried to skirt around them to the front door but the space was too tight and their boisterous conversation far too animated.
Looking behind her, she remembered seeing the woman who had greeted her at the door disappearing down this hallway, likely to the kitchen which would most certainly lead to a back door.
The narrow corridor led to another hallway, dim with only candlelit wall sconces. Josephine felt certain she was on the right path, yet despite discovering a coat closet, a storage room, and a very well-supplied pantry, she couldn’t locate the kitchen.
Finally, she rounded the corner at the end of the hallway and saw light coming from an open door. The kitchen. And a very nice one. But empty. The staff was probably out serving guests, of which she was grateful not to be one anymore.
Eager to get back to Miss Mary’s, she hurried out the back door, closing it behind her—and ran headlong into someone in the dark. She stumbled back and smacked her head against the doorframe.
“Watch where you’re going, you ignorant . . .” The man spat out a string of profanities, the scent of liquor sharp on him. But it was the edge in his voice that sent a chill crawling up her spine.
As he stepped closer, pale moonlight fell across his face and the air squeezed from Josephine’s lungs. Heart pounding in her ears, she told herself it couldn’t be him. But it was. The puckered skin of a gash marked his temple and upper cheek. “Clay Darden . . .”
He eyed her, surprisingly steady on his feet. “Do I know you?” He took another step forward, squinting. “Wait . . . I think I do.”
She spun, opened the door behind her, and nearly had it closed when he slammed his full weight against it.
She stumbled back and hit her head on something solid before she hit the brick floor.
Pain exploded across the base of her skull and shot down her spine and legs. She tried to stand, but couldn’t.
Above the screaming pain was the blur of a cornet band, raucous laughter, and people clapping and cheering.
She screamed, but her own voice sounded so far away.
Seeing the underside of a worktable, she tried to crawl beneath it.
But he grabbed her legs and pulled her back. She screamed again and kicked at him.
“Shut your stupid face, you—” Cursing, he slapped her hard across the cheek.
He tried to pull her up but she went limp. He staggered and dropped her. Seeing her chance, she scrambled to her feet and kicked him as hard as she could exactly where Todd had taught her.
He doubled over, clutching himself, curses pouring from his mouth as if something alive was forcing its way out. She raced for the door leading to the hallway, screaming for help, when she felt—and heard—a loud crack across her lower back. Her legs buckled and she went down.
“This time we’re gonna finish this . . . Josephine Dunham. Just you and me.”
He struck her again with the rolling pin, and she curled into a ball, trying to shield her head with her arms, her lungs screaming for air. He dragged her up by the bodice of her dress, punched her hard in the gut, and everything went black.