Chapter Twelve
USING THE HEEL OF his hand to again smooth his pomade-laden hair, Rupert stared at the closed door. The grease left a slight residue on his skin, and he fished about for a handkerchief, his gaze never leaving the unvarnished pine door before him. Once his hand was clean, he re-donned his glove and replaced his hat over the ruthlessly controlled strands. So outfitted, he took up again his cane, which had resided briefly under his arm, and palmed the pommel.
All of this completed while staring at the door.
The hallway offered scant illumination, the sparsely placed candelabras doing little to combat the dim even though the sun outside was fairly high in the sky. Perhaps it was he should have crossed the thoroughfare to the Diamond and Alice’s door before now, but he was convinced he’d done right to wait. If he’d come any earlier, he was fairly certain he would have done himself an injury attempting to contain his ire at her and her stupid, incorrect, presumptive supposition he was using her for some base purpose. How could she think he would be happy to fuck her and leave her, and he didn’t want her for more? She’d stormed off, without allowing him to speak as to his wants and desires, and he deserved at least—
Taking a breath, he forced himself calm. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he couldn’t contain himself. He had done her wrong, as she had done to him. He’d had reason he hadn’t disclosed why he was in Ironwood, and he conceded she had cause to be angry with him. But he had just as much cause to be irate at her. He would confront her, they would both admit their wrongdoings, , she would listen to him as he calmly and clearly articulated how she had come to mean so much to him. And then he’d kiss the hell out of her.
Right. Into the fray, as it were.Fixing as genial an expression as he could manage, he knocked. While waiting for her response, he strained to hear beyond the door. No footsteps, no voice calling for him to enter.
“Alice, it’s Rupert. Open up.”
No answer.
“Alice, open the door. We have to talk.”
Stubborn silence greeted him.
He jiggled the doorknob, but the thing was locked. “I really don’t want to have to break down the door, Alice. It would ruin my coat,” he added in an attempt at humour. Probably not wise, but it also wouldn’t be wise to add action to words and attempt to force the door open. It might be made of pine and not of the sturdiest construction, but an attempt to break it down would no doubt break his shoulder. “Don’t think you can ignore me. We’re going to discuss this even if I have to tie you to a chair.”
A vision of her tied to the chair, and all the ways he’d show her how very sorry he was, flashed across his mind. Desire rose in him, fast and insistent.
No. He couldn’t get distracted. His attention turned again to the door, and what lay beyond it.
Still no response.
Frustration made his tone harsher than he intended. “Iwillbe back, Alice, no word of a lie.”
He stalked down the hall, down the stairs, and into the front bar of the Diamond. The saloon was sparse of customer at this time of day, a little before noon. Alice’s surveyor, Garrett, was there, doing his best to ignore Pearl La Monte while also glaring at the only other patron., a dark-haired man with the look of a gunslinger sprawled in a chair, his hand curled around his whiskey resting on the table and his grin aimed at Alice’s red-headed friend
As for Pearl, she’d levelled her gaze on Rupert himself as he approached her. Halfway to her, he remembered he was supposed to be the idiot Llewellyn. Christ, how was he to maintain any semblance of pretence when anger ran riotous through him?
Getting himself as much under control as possible, he threw his arms wide in greeting. “Miss Pearl, it’s pleased I am to see you, yes indeed! Do tell me you are well this day!”
Pearl, her features arranged into a neutral position, greeted him coolly, “Mr Llewellyn.”
Her flat greeting didn’t deter him in the slightest. “Dear lady, I find myself in a bit of a pickle. I am desirous of Mrs Reynolds opinion on a certain matter, and I am desolate to say she isn’t answering her door. Tell me, is she abed with sickness?”
“No.” And that, apparently, was the only answer he was to get. Her expression certainly didn’t encourage him to continue.
Though it was a struggle, he maintained his genial smile. He laced his hands before him and tried to look a mix of eager and concerned. That’s how Llewellyn the fool would look, wouldn’t he? Christ, he didn’t know any more. “Pray, if she’s not sick, why won’t she answer her door?”
Pearl lifted a brow. “Tell me, what is it precisely you just have to so urgently ask Miz Alice?”
Maintain civility, Rupert.“’Tis a private matter.”
“Is it, now?” Her tone suggested her complete indifference.
He gritted his teeth, barely maintaining his façade. “Would you be so kind as to alert Mrs Reynolds as to my desire to see her? I’ll just wait here while you do so.” The last was a bit curt, but goddamn it, he wanted to see Alice. He appreciated her friend probably had Alice’s best interests in mind, but hewasher best interest. Once they sorted everything out, Alice would thank her friend for directing him her way.
“Well, would that I could, but seeing as how she’s not here, I can’t be doing what you ask, now can I?” She tilted her head, a sort of smile pulling at her mouth.
He couldn’t have heard that right. “Beg pardon? Do you mean to say Mrs Reynolds is out on errands?”
“No.” Her expression clearly showed her disdain.
Blood beating in his ears, he discarded any attempt at nonchalance. “Is she at the telegram office? Seeing the doctor? Having a haircut? What?”
