Moonlight With Alice (The Matchmaker's Ball Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Hmm?” She glanced down too. “Oh, no. This is a project for Mrs. Morgan. I’ll have some free time while the actors are running their lines this afternoon, and I thought I’d get a little of it done in the meanwhile.”

  At the mention of Mrs. Morgan, Ranse wondered if he should say anything about the ball. It would definitely be in poor taste to bring up Titus Ross, but he could tell Alice that he’d be there as law enforcement. Of course, now that Mr. Bonham seemed to have been put in his place, that excuse had lost some of its believability. “You’re certainly a hard worker,” he commented instead.

  Her face instantly clouded over, and he wondered what he’d said. “Perhaps I work a bit too hard,” she replied.

  “What do you mean, Miss Givens?”

  She flashed him a smile. “Well, if I’m about to bare my soul to you, you should probably call me Alice.”

  He grinned. He’d been waiting for that invitation, and while it had only been a few days, it felt like a few eternities. Now he had some indication that she trusted him, that she considered him a friend rather than an acquaintance. “All right, Alice.”

  She smiled again, then became serious. “I’ve been experiencing some tiredness in my eyes, and the other day—well, while we were on our picnic, actually, I remembered that my grandmother had gone blind before she passed away. I don’t know if you recall . . .”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I’ve been to see Dr. Thomas, and he’s looking at the possibility that I might have a family-based condition that would lead to my blindness as well.”

  Ranse couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Alice was so alive, so vital—how could something so horrible await her in the future? He tried to focus on her next words, realizing she wasn’t done.

  “So he thinks it’s likely just eye strain,” she was saying.

  “Eye strain?”

  “Yes. If I take better care of my eyes, there’s a strong chance they’ll recover, and I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” Ranse pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That’s . . . that’s really good.”

  “You seem upset, Deputy. Is something wrong?”

  They had reached the side door of the theater, and she paused, her hand on the knob. Her face was so open and beguiling, he found it hard to formulate the words he wanted to say. “I dislike seeing my friends suffer,” he said at last. “I’m glad to know you’re likely all right.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” She fished in her bag and pulled out the key to the theater, then paused. “Would you like to come in? They just finished painting the set yesterday, and it looks wonderful.”

  Ranse thought about it for a moment, but it was a very short moment indeed. “I’d love to.”

  She smiled, then unlocked the door and led the way inside. She placed her sewing on a table near the entrance and took off her bonnet, then said, “This way. I’ll show you how to access backstage—it’s a place very few people ever get to see.”

  Ranse followed her down the carpeted hall and through a door, then another door, and in less than a minute, he was lost. “I’m glad you know your way around—if it were up to me to find my own way home, I’d just have to live here,” he said. “You could bring me a sandwich from time to time so I wouldn’t starve to death.”

  She laughed. “There are a lot of doors and corridors. But this is where the magic happens.” She motioned, and he realized that they were in the wings. He could see the red velvet curtain hanging from the ceiling to the floor, the expanse of stage behind it, and there they were, off to the side, ready to send out a troop of dancers or a famous singer or a magician. It was magic, actually, to think of the impact it would have on the audience, lifting them up or making them cry.

  “You look captivated.” Alice motioned to the ceiling, and Ranse looked up. “That’s where the backdrops are hung, and they’re lowered down on these ropes as the scenes change. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. I confess—when I was a little boy, I thought I’d like to become an actor. My mother stifled that idea pretty quickly.”

  “She didn’t approve of the theater?”

  “She has no objection to the theater in general, but she didn’t believe a person could make a living at it, and she told me she’d rather see me in a job where I was likely to eat. I like to eat, so I agreed.”

  Alice laughed. “It’s true that you don’t make a lot of money as a performer, but there’s a certain satisfaction that makes up for it. You can go hungry once in a while if your soul is fed.”

  “So, you intend to stay with the theater?”

  She glanced away. “I used to think that’s what I wanted, but then I started thinking about my own dress shop. And now . . .” She exhaled loudly. “Gracious. So much has happened in the last few days that now I don’t know what I’ll be doing. I’ll keep tending to my eyes, I’ll wait to hear what the doctor finds out, and then . . . then we’ll take the next steps, whatever those are.”

  Ranse didn’t realize he was reaching out until he’d taken Alice’s hand. The move was so impulsive that it seemed natural, and yet it also seemed too presumptuous. She didn’t pull away, however, so he dared to say what he was thinking. “You’re a brave woman, Alice. You’ll get the better of it, whatever it is.”

  She looked up at him, her expression trusting, and he swallowed. What was she doing to him? She made him tongue-tied and weak-kneed and all the things a deputy shouldn’t be, and she did it with a glance or a smile or a laugh. A woman shouldn’t be allowed to wield that much power. It didn’t seem fair when he was trying to stay logical.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “When you say it, I believe you.”

  He would have kissed her in that moment, presumptions be hanged, if they weren’t interrupted by voices coming from behind them. Ranse turned to see Tobias Redfern and his wife, Louisa, walking toward them, chatting about something or another.

  “Hello!” Louisa called out. “It looks like I’m the first one here today.”

  “You generally are,” Alice replied good-naturedly. “Hello, Tobias. I haven’t stopped by the bookstore in ages—you’ve probably got a whole new selection in there by now, don’t you?”

  “You should come by and see for yourself,” he replied.

  “I’m letting my eyes have a rest, but as soon as that’s over with, I’ll come by,” Alice said. “Louisa, tell me how you feel our new soprano could strengthen her breath control during the last aria.”

  The two women moved off to the side, chatting, and Tobias studied Alice with a thoughtful look on his face. “She’s letting her eyes rest?”

  Ranse shrugged one shoulder. He figured it was Alice’s story to tell, when and with whom she chose. “I understand you’re the fellow to see if I want to woo a woman with poetry.”

  Tobias chuckled. “That’s quite the reputation to have, but yes, I’m guilty. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Maybe. I’ll be in touch.”

  Tobias nodded, and the men turned back to join the women in their chatter. An idea had been planted in Ranse’s brain—an idea he liked very much, but only time would tell if it was a good idea or a bad one.

  Chapter Seven

  “This is perfect,” Mrs. Morgan said, turning to catch all angles of herself in the theater’s full-length mirror. “You’ve got a gift, my dear. I never expected you to get it done so quickly.”

  “It helped that the skirt was already hemmed and I didn’t need to go around the bottom again. Someday I’ll have a sewing machine, and then I won’t dread hems so much.” Alice was so relieved that Mrs. Morgan liked her dress. She’d done the very best she could and she felt good about the finished product, but it was impossible to know or predict what a customer might like.

  “I can’t imagine not having a sewing machine for a big job like that,” Mrs. Morgan replied. “Of course I’ve seen my mother sew her fair share of endless hems in my life, but that was before those
blessed machines were invented—we won’t say how many years ago because that will tell you how old I am, and that’s a conversation I’m not in the mood to have at the moment. Instead, I shall study my reflection and tell myself how youthful I’m looking today.”

  Alice laughed. “As soon as I’ve saved a little more money, I’ll buy a machine of my own. I’ve been lucky from time to time—some of the ladies in town have let me use their machines for large projects, and it certainly whets my appetite for one.”

  Mrs. Morgan nodded. “I can see why. Help me unfasten the back now, if you would—you and I need to have a serious chat, and I think I’d do it better without pins in my sleeves.”

  Alice wasn’t sure of the connection, but she helped Mrs. Morgan step out of the dress. Then she basted up the right arm while she waited for the woman to change. Just a few more stitches, and this gown would be finished.

  Mrs. Morgan finished putting herself to rights, then sat down across from Alice at her work table. “You’re quite inspirational, I hope you know,” she began. “Since you and I bumped into each other at the mercantile, I’ve had all sorts of marvelous ideas regarding you.”

  Alice shook her head wryly. “It’s lucky I didn’t give you a head injury during that bump.”

  “Or maybe you did, and that’s why I’m having so many ideas. Never you mind—whatever the case may be, we have things to discuss.” She waited until Alice had snipped her thread to begin. “First of all, my dear, I’d like to invite you to attend my ball on Friday. Come and enjoy yourself—I imagine you haven’t had a nice night out in some time.”

  “You’re right about that . . . but I don’t know about the ball.” Alice concentrated on threading her needle for the other sleeve. “I’d feel awkward, knowing how many people were there looking for true love. I’d be in the way.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Mrs. Morgan thumped a finger on the table. “Has it occurred to you that perhaps someone out there might be looking for you?”

  “Me?” Alice’s hands froze mid-motion. “Why on earth would they be looking for me?”

  “Because you’re bright and spunky, beautiful and talented—why wouldn’t they be looking for you?”

  Alice’s mind went into a whirl. She’d just assumed that when the time came for her to marry, she’d meet a nice young man in town somewhere and they’d go out walking, and one thing would lead to another until they were married. The thought of going to a ball purposely to look for a husband seemed . . . well, uncomfortable. She had many friends who had been introduced by a matchmaker and they seemed happy, but she’d honestly never considered it for herself.

  “If nothing else, I can introduce you to some ladies in town who might like help updating their wardrobes,” Mrs. Morgan went on. “This could be very good for your business.”

  Alice nodded. She could see that possibility.

  “And speaking of that . . . you’ve given me another wonderful idea.”

  Alice feigned a smile. She wasn’t all that convinced that Mrs. Morgan’s last idea really had been wonderful. “Oh?”

  “Yes.” The woman beamed. “I’d like to invest in your business by purchasing you a sewing machine. You can pay me back incrementally over time as your clientele picks up—and it will, you see, because I’m going to send everyone I know to you. Just imagine how much quicker your work will go once you have all the proper tools.”

  Alice set her needle down before she could accidentally stab herself with it. “You . . . you want to buy me a sewing machine?”

  “For which you’ll pay me back, of course. Then it will truly feel like yours, but in the meantime, you’ll be able to work so much faster and efficiently, and that pleases me because we still have several dresses of mine to complete.”

  Alice blinked a few times, trying to make sure she understood. If she had a sewing machine for the long, straight seams and only did the finer detail work with a hand needle, she could certainly improve her work speeds. She was known for her handwork, but that wouldn’t change because she’d still include those touches . . . and she’d have more time to include those touches . . . and this would be so much easier on her eyes.

  “Mrs. Morgan, I hardly know what to say,” she replied at last. “You’re answering prayers I haven’t even offered yet.”

  “Well then, you’d better get praying so we’re not backwards anymore,” the woman replied with a chuckle.

  “I . . . How can I ever thank you?” Alice wiped tears from her cheeks with a scrap of fabric that had been left on her table. “This will change my life—and I don’t mean to sound as though I’m overdramatizing.”

  “You can thank me by continuing to do spectacular work. Do you think you’d put the sewing machine here, or have it set up at the boarding house?”

  Oh. That was a complicated question. It would certainly fit better here, but it seemed wrong to be working on clothing for customers while she was at the theater—she’d only done it for Mrs. Morgan’s dress because she had so little else to do at the time. If she asked Mr. Westcott’s permission, he’d likely allow her to come in early and stay late, but then again, she’d been considering leaving the theater and working solely on her own . . .

  “Alice? Is something wrong?”

  “I’m sorry. I was just thinking it over. My room’s not spacious, but I can make it work if I move the desk over—and perhaps when one of the larger rooms becomes available, I could rent it instead.” If she was making more money, that wouldn’t be difficult. The possibilities seemed to stretch out before her like a rainbow, and chills ran down her arms at the thought. She’d been so worried before, but now she could identify the very real blessings she was receiving.

  “Then I think we should put this plan into action. I’ll stop by the mercantile on the way home and order the machine—I hope it arrives quickly so you’re not without it for much longer.” Mrs. Morgan rose. “Are you finished with this dress? May I take it home?”

  Alice had completely forgotten that she was working on something. “Oh, yes! I just need to put in a few more stitches—one moment, please.” She finished up the sleeve and snipped a few threads. “There you are.”

  Mrs. Morgan draped the gown over her arm. “Absolutely wonderful. Now, about you attending the ball. You haven’t given me a very solid answer, you know.”

  Alice laughed. “Well, you’ve just offered to buy me a sewing machine. I can hardly refuse to accept your invitation now.”

  “And perhaps that was my scheme all along—to bribe you.” Mrs. Morgan smiled, looking pleased with herself. “Take care, Alice—and I’ll see you at the ball.”

  She swept out of Alice’s workroom, leaving Alice to sort through everything that had just happened. Her life had been so routine just a week ago, and then all of a sudden, it seemed that everything was changing at once. It was impossible—and yet, it wasn’t. Alice took a deep breath and exhaled. She was still a bit bewildered, but above all else, she was so, so grateful.

  ***

  Friday arrived faster than Ranse thought it ought to. He pulled his suit from the wardrobe and shook it out, glad to see that it wasn’t too wrinkled from being ignored for months on end. The lavender sachet his sister had given him had seemed to do the job, even though he’d felt downright silly using it. What man uses a lavender sachet in his suit? But she’d insisted, and he’d given in—and now he had to admit, his clothes did smell nice and fresh.

  He’d just had his shirts done by one of the laundresses in town, and he pulled out the one he thought would look best with the suit. After brushing off his boots, he figured he was as ready as he could get—with one exception, and that was something he’d take care of on his way to the Tivoli Ballroom.

  KC had given him the evening off without any trouble at all, and that had been disappointing. Ranse had hoped for a genuine excuse to stay away. Now that the time had come, however, he’d better make the most of it.

  The night was fine and the moon was full as he walked do
wn the street, the cool air hitting his cheeks like a welcome kiss. He smiled as he thought the word “kiss,” and how close he’d come to kissing Alice there in the wings of the theater. He didn’t think she’d mind—in fact, he thought she’d be glad—but until he’d actually spoken to her about it, he couldn’t presume. He’d never kiss an unwilling lady, especially not one who carried a pistol in her pocket and owned a sharp pair of scissors.

  He could hear music coming from up ahead. The lights from the ballroom glowed out into the dark night, creating a beacon of sorts to tell him where he should be. He checked his holster to make sure he hadn’t forgotten his own weapon. Both he and Mrs. Morgan knew full well that he was there for Alice, but he might be useful on security detail as well. He had the night off, but he’d never really be off—that was the way of it when one was in public service.

  He entered the building cautiously. He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen—whether he’d be whisked off to another world or find himself held hostage by fancy people in their fancy clothes—but he relaxed after a moment. The atmosphere was soothing, the music was soft, and he was largely ignored. Those who did notice him just nodded as they twirled away to do something else.

  “I’m so glad you came, Deputy.” Mrs. Morgan appeared at his elbow, a lace fan dangling from her wrist. “We’ll keep things as painless as possible for you, all right?”

  He nodded. “I’m already suffering much less than I thought I would be.”

  “Then we’re off to a good start. Oh, my.” She reached out and caught his arm, and he turned to see what had her so enraptured all of a sudden.

  Alice had just entered the ballroom. It appeared she’d come with another young lady, so the chastisement that had risen to Ranse’s mind for wandering around town alone was unfounded, but all thoughts left his head as soon as they’d come anyway. Alice looked simply stunning. Her blonde hair was gathered up in one of those attractive buns women wore—Ranse had no idea what to call it, and he didn’t much care. It wasn’t important. Her dress was shades of purples and pinks, bringing out the natural roses in her cheeks, and for the longest moment, he just stood there, staring.