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“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself very much.”
She paused and wondered how he knew. She shrugged. “Managing a party of this size doesn’t leave much time for enjoyment.”
“I suppose you’re right. Do you ever get to have fun?”
She thought about the conversation she’d had with Regan yesterday. “I have a lot to do.”
“Not judging, Duchess. Just asking.”
The sincerity in his manner and tone made his words believable. She wondered what kind of man he was. Their interactions in Virginia City had been minimal due to the difference in their ages and the fact that he worked in the saloon, a place she and her sister weren’t allowed to enter when it was open to clients. What would she learn about him now that their ages and his employment weren’t a factor?
Edward Salt walked up. “Ah, MissCarmichael. I finally find you seated. May I speak with you?”
“Of course.”
“Privately,” he added.
Kent rose to leave them alone, but Portia said, “No, Kent. Please stay. I’m sure whatever Mr.Salt has to say will be all right for you to overhear. Finish your cake.” She had no intentions of being spoken to privately by him.
Salt didn’t appear happy.
She didn’t care.
He cleared his throat. “I’d like to call on you tomorrow if I might. Being new to the area, I’d be honored to have you show me around.”
“Unfortunately I’m going to be busy. The hotel has guests arriving in a few days and there are a hundred things I have to oversee to get ready. I’m sure someone else can show you the sights better than I.”
He didn’t like that either.
She didn’t care.
“Some other time then.”
She didn’t commit.
He walked away.
She blew out a breath.
Kent quipped, “Snappy dresser though.”
“If you like that sort of thing.”
Salt’s black suit and gold-trimmed vest looked quite expensive, as did his shoes. She eyed Kent’s plainer and more honest attire and must have scrutinized him longer than was polite because he said, “Fanciest set of duds I own, Duchess. Sorry.”
“No. I was—just thinking how much more I liked your attire than his.” Embarrassed by her admission and doing her best to ignore the heat searing her cheeks, she dragged her eyes to his and found a quietness waiting there that spoke to her wordlessly. “Please, I wasn’t judging you.”
“Are you always this sincere?”
Portia felt as if they were alone in an empty room. “When I need to be, yes.”
“Good to know,” he said softly.
The three words left her heart pounding.
Regan walked up. She looked to Portia first and then Kent. Waving her hand in the space that separated them she said, “Hey, you two. Aunt Eddy and Uncle Rhine are saying their good-byes. Everyone is going home.”
Portia stood. Whatever was unfolding inside herself wasn’t something she’d ever experienced before, so she had no name for it nor any idea how to go about handling it. But she did know that this cowboy and his compelling gaze was the source. “I—I have to go.”
He nodded, and as she and her sister walked away, she didn’t see his smile as he finished his cake.
