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They finally made it to the buffet table. Among the many people there was Old Man Blanchard speaking with haberdashery owner, Darian Day, another of Portia’s frustrated suitors. But unlike James, she took great pleasure in refusing his company because he was such a condescending ass.
Before she could introduce Kent to Mr.Blanchard, Day said, “You’re looking lovely, Portia.”
“Thank you, Mr.Day.” As always, he was overdressed for the occasion, this time in a black long-tailed coat, white bow tie, and white wing-tipped shirt. Instead of the boots men like Mr.Blanchard and Kent were wearing, Day had on narrow-toed black shoes.
“And who’s this?” he asked, staring Kent up and down.
“Darian Day. Kent Randolph. Kent was an employee of my uncle’s when we lived in Virginia City.”
“Welcome to Arizona Territory. I own a haberdashery in Tucson. When you get the extra funds, stop by and we can see about finding you something to wear that’s a bit more suitable for a gathering like this.”
Kent gave him a wintry smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Day added, “And as the menfolk here will probably tell you, I’ve had my eye on this little filly for some time, but she’s being real prickly about accepting my saddle.”
Portia tossed back, “Probably because I abhor being referred to as a ‘little filly.’”
Old Man Blanchard barked a laugh. “You tell him, Portia.”
She loved the old man. “I need to check on things in the kitchen, Mr.Blanchard. May I leave Kent in your capable hands? My aunt and uncle are occupied.” They were still across the room with the Salts.
He smiled. “Sure can. Grab a plate, Randolph, and let’s get acquainted.”
She gave Kent a departing nod, shot Day a glare, and walked away.
The kitchen was a beehive of activity. The head cook, a young Englishwoman named Sarah, was adding more sliced beef to a depleted tray while the other kitchen workers carried in empty platters needing to be refilled. Setting aside her irritation with Day, she asked, “How’re things in here, Sarah?”
“Hectic but under control. We had to shoo your aunt out earlier, though.”
“Why? What did she want?”
“To make sure the pie slices were evenly cut. I told her she taught me everything I know and I would sic you on her if she didn’t go back out and enjoy herself. She pouted and left.”
Portia shook her head in amazement and amusement. “Whatever are we going to do with her?”
“You tell me, miss. She’s your aunt.”
Smiling, Portia scanned the organized chaos. Satisfied her help wasn’t needed, she said, “If Aunt Eddy comes back, send someone for me. She’s a guest of honor. Not the caterer.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
By the time the cake, ablaze with fifteen sparklers, was wheeled out, Portia was glad the evening was about to come to an end. Her feet were tired of being encased in the fancy heeled shoes, the corset beneath her dress pained her as it always did when propriety dictated she wear one, and she could feel a headache coming on from all the noise and the press of so many bodies. To escape the heat, some of the guests were enjoying their cake and ice cream outside at the trestle table. As she walked the area to make sure everyone was having a good time, she spied Regan seated with her beau du jour, a young army sergeant she’d met a week ago. Beside them sat Old Man Blanchard, apparently playing duenna, and Portia smiled at the unhappy look on her sister’s face. There’d be no sneaking off for stolen kisses with Mr.Blanchard around. A laughing Eddy was seated on Rhine’s lap, however, and he was feeding her cake from a fork. The amused Portia hoped she wouldn’t have to send them to their suite to keep their ardor from getting out of hand.
“Brought you some cake, Duchess.”
Surprised, she turned and the closeness of Kent’s presence wafted dizzily over her again.
“You do eat cake, don’t you?”
She extricated herself from his silent spell and sputtered, “I do. Yes. Thank you.” Admittedly moved by his thoughtfulness, she took the plate from his hand.
“Shall we find a seat?” he asked. “Or are you still on duty?”
“I am but I would like to sit for a moment.” Usually her needs were secondary because of all that needed doing like making innumerable visits to the kitchen, saying “Thank you for coming” to the departing guests, and keeping an eye on the remaining amounts of food and drink.
“Good cake,” he said.
“Glad you like it.”
