Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 (26 page)

Geneva’s laugh was nervous, sharp, and brittle. “Why, my dear, you’re related to her, so I’m sure you’re aware that her father was the caretaker for the Stevens estate. It wasn’t exactly a match made in heaven, as society and class go. As I said, anyone who ever saw Bryan and Marnia together knew they were very much in love, but friends of Bryan’s parents knew how dismayed they were that he’d married beneath him. He’d never admit it, of course, but the truth is, Bryan was quite unhappy to find himself excluded from the guest list of the finer families of New York.”

If what Geneva Stokes said was true, Jade thought, it explained why Bryan was always pushing her to climb the social ladder. He’d missed being invited to all the really big and worthwhile parties, and he wanted to be included again—with her.

Geneva took on an expression of deep sympathy and regret as she whispered, hand going to her throat, “Oh, dear, I hope I haven’t hurt your feelings. Why, reminding you that Marnia Stevens came from a family of the lower classes is indirectly saying the same of you, and that was not my intent.”

“No, I suppose not,” Jade was able to retort with acid sweetness. “After all, you and I both were invited here tonight, weren’t we? And I understand only the crème de la crème is invited to one of Mrs. Cummings’ waffle parties.”

Geneva’s eyes widened with awareness. Her attempt to put Jade in her place had been thwarted. “I—I suppose that’s true,” she stammered nervously. “But I never meant—”

“Oh, I know you weren’t trying to be unkind, Mrs. Stokes,” Jade interjected in a tone that belied her sincerity, “and I certainly realize I haven’t been altogether accepted into the rigid society of New York, that I’m merely being ‘scrutinized’, but let me assure you I’m not really concerned about it. The people I’ve met
before
tonight have seemed quite nice, and I don’t think they care that they don’t know anything about my family. They seem to like me for
me
, and that makes me very happy.” She laced her fingertips beneath her chin; mimicking Mrs. Stokes’ pose, eyelashes fluttering.

“But you know,” she went on, “I was just thinking what a terrible waste of your time it is to be invited to these little waffle parties. You said yourself they’re so outdated. Maybe I should tell Mrs. Cummings how you feel, and that would clear two seats for another couple next time who might enjoy such delicacies.”

Geneva Stokes’ mouth fell open, and she could only stare at Jade, aghast.

Leaving her that way, Jade murmured, “Excuse me,” and got up from the table.

She was about to go in search of Bryan and suggest that they leave, but Arista Cummings saw her walk across the second parlor and called out, “Jade, there you are! I was waiting till you’d finished eating.” She came closer to say that she’d purposely had the guests in the main parlor served first, and now they were finished and the room had been cleared. A string ensemble was taking its place, she happily informed her.

“Now we’re ready for you to give us lessons in the waltz!’’

Before Jade could say anything, Mrs. Cummings whirled about and dramatically clapped her hands. When she had everyone’s attention, she announced with a flourish, “I want all of you to know how thrilled I am to have a very special guest tonight—Miss Jade O’Bannon of Ireland.”

There was a spattering of applause, but Mrs. Cummings frowned, never liking to be interrupted when she was the center of attention, and waved her arms for silence once more. “Miss O’Bannon, as you probably all know, is a distant relation”—elation left her voice as she gradually approached a sober note—“of the dear, departed wife of Mr. Bryan Stevens.”

Jade followed the gesture of her hand, her nod, to the direction of the foyer. Bryan was standing there, glowing with pride, and suddenly Jade was struck anew by Mrs. Stokes’ allegation that he’d been miserable over his ostracism from society due to his marriage. Was he now looking so happy and lofty because it appeared he was once more included, thanks to her? No, she knew that instinctively Bryan loved her and was merely delighted people liked her. That’s all it was…all it could be. She would not allow herself to think otherwise.

Mrs. Cummings then led Jade to a cleared space in front of the musicians. She was wondering how to begin when a man politely called out a request. “Miss O’Bannon, explain to us first, please, what kind of dance this is. A lot of us have never heard of it.”

Deciding that was a wonderful way to start, she quietly told the story of how the waltz could be considered a revolutionary dance. “Young people,” she explained, “have always led the way in creating new forms, and those who lived through the French Revolution, it’s believed, looked to dance as a way to unleash deeper emotions and satisfy the needs of both body and soul, as well as to mobilize more vital and dynamic expressions than those permitted by the more sober rules of the minuet.

“Thus,” she went on with a sweeping smile at her rapt audience, who’d formed a half circle around her, “the waltz was born, but, strangely, it was of German origin. It was the poet Johann von Goethe, by the way, who wrote in his novel
Die Leiden des Jungen Werther
, back in 1774, ‘Never have I moved so lightly. I was no longer a human being…to hold the most adorable creature in one’s arms and fly around with her like the wind, so that everything around us fades away.’”

A pleasant round of soft laughter filled the room.

She asked the musicians whether they could play Tchaikovsky’s “Serenade for Strings in C Major” and was pleased to be told they could.

“Very well. Now, if Mr. Stevens will be so kind as to serve as my partner, I’ll show you the basic steps.”

Bryan stepped forward, beaming, and Jade positioned his right arm to encircle her waist, as her left hand lightly touched his shoulder. Then, her right hand against his left, she explained, “Basically, the waltz, which comes from the German word
wälzen
, which means ‘to revolve’, consists of a step, a slide, then a step, in three-quarter time.”

An elderly woman, round glasses perched on the end of her nose and held to her neck by a long pearl necklace, suddenly gasped in disapproval. “Shocking! Absolutely shocking! For a man and woman to embrace each other so closely in public is scandalous.”

Jade blinked in disbelief.

Bryan stifled a laugh.

Mrs. Cummings dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand and a cry of disgust. “Really, Constance, you can be an old fogey sometimes. This is the nineteenth century. You’ve got to think modern!”

“Humph!” the old woman grunted, shuffling forward with an equally archaic man doggedly following. “I’ve lived too long for anybody to tell me what is and isn’t proper. I’m leaving. I’m not about to stand here and watch such shameful behavior…but thank you for your hospitality,” she ended sarcastically.

Mrs. Cummings nodded, eyes stormy. “As you wish, Constance.” She nodded to Jade to continue.

Accordingly, Jade gestured to the musicians to begin.

With the soft, sweeping rhythm of the strings surrounding them, she and Bryan began to move in step. At first Bryan was unsure of himself, stumbled a bit, but soon was gliding about the floor with ease.

The onlookers broke into spontaneous applause when they finished, and at once Jade found herself surrounded by people asking for private lessons. Bryan looked on approvingly as she explained how she was contemplating opening a dance studio to teach not only the waltz but the ballet as well.

Suddenly, in midsentence, Jade glanced up to see a woman walking toward the front door, almost surreptitiously. Her voice trailed off as, for some reason she could not then explain, her senses seemed to freezes The woman was not only behaving strangely, she also looked familiar…but who was she? Jade had been struck by the same feeling earlier when she’d encountered Geneva Stokes.

And then it came to her, like a door slamming in her face to knock her backward in time.

The ship.

The dining room.

Triesta Vordane.

She called her name. The woman turned, her face a mask of sheer terror, and she nearly knocked someone down as she bolted out the front door to disappear into the night.

Jade hurried after her and was almost out the door when she felt a hand tightly squeeze her arm to restrain her. Through the giant roaring that had begun in her ears she heard Bryan’s angry hiss, “Stop it! What do you think you’re doing?”

She looked up at him, stunned at his tone, even more bewildered by the furious expression on his face, the way his eyes were narrowed, mouth set in a grim, tight line.

“Why, I know her,” she told him incredulously. “From the ship. Her name is Triesta Vordane, and she and her daughter sat at the table with Colt and me, and—”

“Stop it!” he growled through clenched teeth. “Someone will hear you.”

She blinked in confusion. “So what if they do?”

“We’re leaving. Go outside. I’ll make our excuses.” He gave her an almost rough shove as he turned, back to the parlor.

Jade hurried on out, glad for the opportunity to continue her search for Mrs. Vordane, but was not truly surprised that she was nowhere to be seen. By the time Bryan joined her, she’d worked up quite an anger for him and the way he’d behaved.

Sensing her fury, he snapped, “Save it till we get to the hotel so the driver won’t have gossip to spread tomorrow.” Holding her arm firmly, as though at any moment she might run away, he guided her to the hackney.

Once they reached her suite, Bryan again warned her they had to watch what they said lest Lita, asleep in one of the bedrooms, might wake and hear.

Jade had calmed down somewhat, realizing why he’d reacted as he had, but was still indignant. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that sooner or later I would run into someone from the ship? We met lots of people in just a short period of time, Bryan.”

He shook his head. “You’ve got to pretend you don’t know who they are if they remember you, and walk up and call you Mrs. Coltrane, you just give them a blank look and tell them your name is Miss O’Bannon…hopefully, soon you can say Mrs. Stevens.” He gave her the boyish grin that usually managed to melt her heart but this time had no effect.

“So I’m supposed to lie?” she coldly asked.

His smile faded. “If you don’t want people to know about the past, yes.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it matters.”

“So do I, but unless we want people to find out you really aren’t kin to Marnia; that, for all intents and purposes, you’re married to someone else who thinks he’s legally married to another woman, then…” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “We lie.”

Jade was having doubts about the whole charade and realized she had been since it all began, but it had just seemed simpler to go along with it than dwell on the past. Now, however, she was even more unsure. She attempted to explain to Bryan about Triesta. “She was the woman who sat at the table with me and Colt, and I’m sure she recognized me, but why would she run away like that? I don’t understand.”

Bryan shrugged, and Jade thought the gesture a bit forced. “Who knows? Who cares? She’s probably just a strange old bird, like the one who walked out because she thought the waltz was disgraceful.” He gave a short laugh in an attempt to lighten the moment. Jade did not share his humor, and he abruptly fell silent.

Suddenly she asked him, “Didn’t it ever occur to you that I’d run into Colt one day?”

At once a cold, angry shadow descended on his face. “No. Why should it? You told me yourself he never cared for parties and socials. It’d be very rare if it happened, and if it did, he’d probably act like he didn’t know you to keep from being embarrassed, and you’d be wise to do the same.”

He turned toward the sideboard, which he’d had the hotel stock with liquor. Taking out a bottle of brandy, he murmured, “I think I need a drink.”

Jade was engrossed in her thoughts. Why did Bryan seem so angry? So defensive? Perhaps it was time to be honest about everything. She couldn’t help thinking anything was better than worrying about encountering someone who might expose them. It would, she knew, certainly be better to settle the matter of her marriage to Colt before entering into one of questionable legality with Bryan.

She said as much.

He looked at her as though she’d lost her mind, then abruptly asked her if she had.

“No,” she snapped, “but I think it’d be best if we just brought everything out in the open.”

He gulped the rest of his drink and slammed his empty glass down as he lashed out furiously. “Maybe better for you, but not me. I’m the one people would condemn for having an affair with a married woman when my wife is hardly cold in her grave.
You
, they’d pity!”

Jade gasped at such an idea. “Who’s to say we’ve had an affair? Bryan, for God’s sake, sometimes I don’t think I know you at all.”

“What other reason would we have for having lied about who you were?” he argued.

She stifled the bubbling indignation she was feeling and attempted to reason with him. “We don’t have to tell everyone all our personal business, Bryan. We don’t have to tell anyone anything. No one needs to know I’m not a distant cousin of Marnia’s, just as no one has to know I’m married to someone else. I’ll just go to Colt and let him know I
am
alive and tell him we’ve got to quietly divorce so that his marriage to whoever he’s married to will be legal…so that his child—” she paused, swallowed, quelled the sudden lurch of heartache before continuing, “—will be legitimate. Then,” she finished with a sigh, “our marriage, when it takes place, will be legal.”