“A good suggestion,” he agreed, his face lightening.
He pulled back her chair. Bill Williams nodded an absent goodbye to them. He had settled himself comfortably to study the racing guide. Tony slipped a possessive arm around Jenny and guided her out of the dining room and into the hot sunshine.
Jenny put her unaccountable depression firmly behind her. Wayne Paterson seemed to be as moody and changeable as Tony, but nothing was going to spoil her weekend out.
She gave Tony a bright smile. “What about we back something with long odds?” she suggested.
Chapter Nine
Jenny wriggled her feet out of her high-heeled slippers and hid her stockinged feet under the table. The dinner dance had been fun, but it was getting late and she decided she was tired.
The two blond Sullivan boys and the freckled redhead called Terry had claimed acquaintance with flattering enthusiasm. She spent a lot of the evening going from table to table and being introduced, and dancing with everyone.
Tony and Marise were at a table with a crowd of older people, most of whom spent the evening drinking heavily. Tony had danced with her earlier in the evening and then been ousted by the Sullivan boys. Marise shrugged a disdainful shoulder as she danced past and Tony stayed the rest of the evening among his particular friends.
At last Jenny refused all offers to dance and returned to sit down. Most of the revelers were packing up. The dance floor had a curiously forlorn look to it, with the trampled streamers and shredded pieces of colored balloons. She was alone. Bill Williams stood on the floor trying to disentangle himself from an elderly gentleman who had buttonholed him. Wayne leaned over a table on the other side of the room talking to friends.
He seemed to be very well liked and had spent a lot of the evening socializing with everyone. When the dancing started, he danced twice with the nice Sullivan girls, and several times with Marise. Jenny wondered if he was going to offer to dance with her, but first Tony had whisked her on to the dance floor and then the other boys had crowded Tony out and monopolized her.
Tony started dancing with his sister. Jenny watched with an unwilling admiration. They had the floor almost to themselves and danced with the perfect coordination of professional dancers or born athletes. Marise’s white chiffon swirled around her lithe body as she moved. Tonight her shining hair was twisted back into a soft Grecian knot that revealed the perfect regularity of her features and softened her face. She looked very regal and self-assured, and definitely the most striking woman in the room.
The music stopped, and there was a spontaneous round of applause. Marise gave her flashing smile. Tony moved over to ask Bill Williams something. He nodded agreement. Marise returned to her friends, and Tony headed across to Jenny.
“I offered to take you back to the hotel, Jenny,” he explained. “That prosy old bore will have Bill trapped until the first race tomorrow.”
“What about Marise?” Jenny asked.
She tried not to look across to where Wayne laughed broadly at something the older of the Sullivan girls said to him on the other side of the room.
“Our table is staying at the same hotel and she isn’t ready to leave,” Tony said with a shrug.
Jenny slid her feet back into her slippers and picked up her black velvet wrap. She smiled at all her new friends as Tony took her arm and walked her outside to where the rakish red sports car was parked.
Jenny tensed as Tony flung the car out of the car park at what seemed a dangerous speed. She opened her mouth to protest, but then shut it again. In the glow of the dashboard Tony’s eyes had a bright glitter to them. If he wasn’t drunk, he definitely had been drinking and to comment on it was unnecessary for the short distance from the hall to the hotel. She remained silent, wrapped in her own thoughts.
It had become fairly obvious that the Bickertons weren’t too well liked. Behind the good-natured tolerance and courtesy of the greetings was a uniform coolness. Jenny had overheard a few outspoken and scathing comments about both Tony and Marise. The least damaging remark was that Marise was an unpleasant-tongued snob, and she and Tony were extravagant and reckless in their lifestyles and property management.
Yet Wayne, who was so level headed and popular, not only escorted Marise around the racetrack, but caused comment by his attention to her at the dinner-dance. Was there really something between them? An odd pain contracted Jenny’s heart, as she remembered how well they danced together, and the intimate lazy way Marise smiled at him.
The car skidded to a halt in the car park in front of the hotel, and she shivered. Perhaps it was because she was tired, but suddenly she felt depressed.
“Cold, Jenny?” Tony sounded concerned, and pulled her velvet cloak closer around her.
Without thinking, Jenny moved away. Tony shrugged, got out and walked around to open her door. Jenny was embarrassed. Tony’s silences gave away a lot more than his speech did. They walked together along the dimly lit veranda.
“Got your money on Pretty Boy tomorrow?” he asked.
“The last five dollars I own,” Jenny retorted, relieved at the safeness of the question. “I’m not a betting lady, but I think he will win.”
Tony put out a hand to stop her. He swayed slightly. “Lay you odds that Black Prince will win.”
“What odds?”
His arms went around her. “The odds that we become a lot closer friends.” Jenny started to back away. He tightened his grip. “What about it, Jenny Wren?”
“You are being ridiculous! We already are friends.”
“Yes, I know,” he agreed, breathing the acrid combination of whisky and beer in her face. “I mean proper friends.” Jenny stiffened as he pulled her close and kissed her, and her wrap slid from her shoulders. “Why waste your time making sheep's eyes at Wayne? Marise has him.”
“It’s late, Tony.”
Jenny tried to keep her voice level and dispassionate, but she felt close to tears. Although it had been difficult, she had tried to treat Wayne the same way as everyone else, and his involvement with Marise didn’t affect her. Why should Tony, who had too much to drink, come out with such a ridiculous statement?
“Not that late,” Tony chuckled thickly.
He settled his shoulders comfortably against the wall, still holding her in his iron-hard grip. He bent his head to kiss her again, and his hand slid over to fondle her breast. Jenny raised a foot to stamp down hard. Suddenly, Tony released her, and spoke over her shoulder.
“Nice night.”
Jenny whirled around. Wayne and Bill Williams had come up quietly behind them. Her cheeks went hot. She wondered what they had overheard and what they were thinking.
“Goodnight,” she gasped, and escaped Tony’s arms to flee to the sanctuary of her room.
She threw herself on the bed. An odd misery constricted her heart. For some inexplicable reason she felt guilty and shamed. Yet it was no one else’s business, so why the silent disapproval in the two men as they followed her into the hotel? She was a free agent! Her employer couldn’t dictate who her friends should be! And what business was it of Wayne’s who kissed her?
Jenny sighed, and wiped away a stray tear with a firm hand. She slowly undressed and hung up her dress. In her frantic flight to her room she had forgotten to pick up her black velvet cloak. She knew exactly where it had fallen. It must be on the floor of the wide veranda just by the front door.
She opened her door. The intense stillness of the hotel greeted her. The idea of tiptoeing down the quiet passageways and silent stairs in the darkness, and in her pajamas, just for her wrap seemed ridiculous. Although she wouldn’t like to lose it. Even the soft hood was fully lined in the white taffeta and she had never seen that design again since she bought it. She decided to slip down first thing in the morning and collect it. She shut the door again and went to bed to pass a night of uneasy broken slumber.
She slept late and woke the next morning with a vague sense of depression. She stared at the unfamiliar high ceiling of
the room. Memory flooded back of the incident of the previous night. Also, today was the big race, and she had promised to be ready early.
She showered and dressed and rushed down to the dining room. It was deserted! She stared in horror at the ornate clock on the mantel. She had overslept! It was already eleven o’clock! She ran down the winding passage to the lounge.
Bill Williams was sprawled in a massive armchair studying the paper. He glanced up as she came in. There was only an amused friendliness in his face. Jenny felt herself relax.
“I didn’t realize that I had overslept,” she apologized. “Are you taking Pretty Boy to the racetrack?”
“Hours ago,” he said with a chuckle. “Ben and Wayne are babysitting him. I came back to collect you.”
Although her employer protested, Jenny refused to delay him by eating and assured him she could eat at the track. She was already sitting in the station wagon before she remembered about her evening wrap.
“I dropped my black velvet wrap on the veranda last night,” she explained. “Did you notice if it was still there this morning?”
“It was left folded over the stair rail,” Bill Williams said. He slid her a shrewd glance, in which compassion and worry was equally blended. “It’s in the office.”
Jenny wrinkled her brow. Who had picked it up and left it on the stair rail? A late-come guest that night, or perhaps someone who came down in the morning ahead of the cleaning staff? It was odd that they hadn’t put it by the small office! She dismissed it from her mind as they parked in the crowded car park of the racetrack.
“Are we going to have a look at Pretty Boy first?” she demanded.
“He seemed a bit miserable this morning and I do intend to have another look at him,” Bill replied.
When they arrived at the complex of saddling yards, Ben the strapper grinned a shy welcome. Wayne looked up and nodded. Pretty Boy flicked an ear in the direction of the new arrivals, but otherwise ignored them. His coat was as glossy as usual, but his eyes looked dull and his head drooped with disinterest.
“Could be the strange surroundings,” Ben suggested.
Bill Williams nodded. He checked each leg carefully, and ran his hand down the powerful shoulders. He looked puzzled, and his pale blue eyes were worried.
“Seems all right,” he admitted. “What sort of a night did he have?”
Ben shrugged. “You saw him when you both came back last night. He had settled in real well.” He appealed to Jenny. “Didn’t he look all right to you?”
“I didn’t come down here last night, Ben,” Jenny protested. “I went straight in to bed.”
“You wanted to pat him for luck,” Ben insisted.
“What time?” Wayne demanded.
Ben scratched his head. “Suppose about half an hour after you and the boss came through.”
Jenny stared at Ben. It wasn’t like him to make anything up. How could he say he saw her last night?
“Did you slip down later to have a look at the horse?” Wayne asked.
“Ben was mistaken,” Jenny insisted. She felt the telltale flush coloring her cheeks. Why did Wayne always have to make her feel in the wrong? “I certainly didn’t come down to the stables last night!”
“It was you,” Ben insisted. “All muffled up against the cold in that fancy black cloak and hood.”
“I left my wrap outside last night,” Jenny said.
There was a silence. Ben looked embarrassed, Bill worried, and Wayne’s brows had come down in their straight bar. The distant blare of the band started. Pretty Boy’s head lifted and his ears pricked forward.
“I daresay it isn’t important,” Bill Williams said with a shrug. “He looks a bit brighter, doesn’t he? I swear he recognizes that band.”
Ben grinned his agreement, and stroked the raised head. “Won’t be long, old fellow. Today is your day.”
“He’s got a few hours to settle down,” Wayne said.
“I’ll stay with him,” Bill Williams decided. “Take Jenny up for something to eat. The dining room should still be quiet.”
Wayne took Jenny’s arm. “An odd coincidence,” he said smoothly, as soon as they were around the corner and out of earshot.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jenny snapped.
“Two Jennys around last night?”
Jenny was grateful for her large floppy hat as the color rose in her face at his accusation. “Ben’s getting this confused. I wasn’t there last night.”
“Ben’s pretty reliable. I don’t think he got anything confused,” Wayne drawled.
“I didn’t go down to look at the horse last night,” Jenny repeated, hearing her voice rise and sharpen. “I dropped my wrap last night. Someone must have borrowed it.” Someone wearing her wrap had tricked Ben to relax his vigilance so they could dope Pretty Boy. Why didn’t anyone believe her?
“If Pretty Boy comes in, the winnings will help balance the books over the stock losses,” Wayne said.
“I know that.” Jenny was bewildered at the change of direction of the conversation.
“Just who are your loyalties with, Jenny Wren?” Wayne asked coldly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jenny retorted.
“I mean your very close friendship with Black Prince’s owner.”
Jenny stopped walking and glared at her escort. She felt her temper rise at the unfairness and pettiness of the remark. Not even from Wayne Paterson had she expected to hear such a ridiculous insinuation.
“You practically live in Marise’s pocket. Is your friendship a disloyalty to Taralon, too?”
“That’s different,” Wayne snapped.
“I bet,” Jenny scoffed.
She turned and marched away from him through the crowded racecourse. Wayne lengthened his stride to keep up. She was too angry to even speak. She blinked back the treacherous tears prickling behind her eyelids. What business was it of Wayne’s whom she was friendly with? She sneaked a look at him.
His mouth was compressed into a grim line and the telltale bar of brows was down over his cold grey eyes. So he was worried about what was happening about the district, and anxious that Pretty Boy wasn’t in top condition, but why was he overreacting so childishly? He became aware of her quick glance.
“You disgust and disappoint me,” he exploded at her.
Jenny pulled her hat further over her face and ignored him. His hand tightened around her arm, so she was forced to stop.
“Afternoon, Marise. Like some lunch?” he asked in a completely different voice.
Jenny examined Marise. She stood by the dining room entrance, elegant and self-possessed. Today she wore a tailored white linen dress and a shady hat to match. What was supposed to be so special about Wayne’s friendship with Marise? Why was he overreacting so childishly about her brother?
Marise gave her flashing smile to Wayne, and slid a hand over his arm. “What a good idea,” she said.
“Lunch it is,” Wayne said heartily, still holding Jenny’s arm in the vice-like grip. “I’m sure Jenny is hungry.”
The dining room was beginning to fill, but they found a table near the door. Jenny studied the menu. A lump in her throat took away any appetite she had and she was resentful under Marise’s amused and critical eyes inspecting her soft lemon voile dress, and the flat-heeled white sandals. Marise had the ability to make Jenny feel like an untidy fourteen-year-old! Marise concentrated her attention back on Wayne.
“Black Prince has had the week to settle in like a lamb.” She studied the menu thoughtfully. “How is Pretty Boy this morning?”
“Looked all right when we left him,” Wayne remarked and changed the subject to other owners, their horses and prospects.
Several times during the meal, Marise came back to the subject of Pretty Boy and the sort of money they were putting on him. Each time Wayne steered the conversation away. Jenny ate in silence. Wayne made no attempt to include her in the conversation, and Marise ignored her as though she was invisible.
Also, although Jenny was not prepared to admit it, Wayne’s transition from the pleasant, courteous, and likable man she had nursed into the tense and sarcastic stranger struggling to keep an undercurrent of violence under control puzzled her. The incident where Tony had kissed her was really a very trivial thing for him to be so inexplicably upset about.
Her departure seemed unnoticed. Wayne and Marise were totally immersed in their oddly guarded and bantering conversation. Jenny straightened her shoulders and went out into the bright glare of the hot sun, among the cheerful jostling crowd. It really was too nice a day to let either Marise or Wayne get under her skin.
Chapter Ten
People pushed and jostled, totally preoccupied with their race books and pencils. Jenny glimpsed Terry and two of the Sullivan girls over by the rails. She considered joining them and then hesitated. They were fun to be with and very friendly, but she wasn’t in the mood for their carefree exuberance.
She let herself be buffeted and pushed towards the brightly colored umbrellas of the bookmakers. Everything was fast-moving, exciting and noisy. The bookmakers bawled their odds. Eager men and women surged around, grasping crumpled bundles of money. In the tight-packed seething mob, so much money flashed so carelessly, it lost its reality, Jenny thought, her eyes wide at the abandon with which it was pushed at the bookmakers and their busy clerks.
She listened for a while. The odds on Black Prince and Pretty Boy were shortening. In the betting ring they had settled to being equal favorites. Everyone in the district seemed to be putting their money on one or the other of the two horses. Jenny recognized many of the station hands and neighbors milling around.
She was glad she had decided to place her five dollars for Pretty Boy more sedately at the Totalizer Agency Board counter. She lost interest in the betting and pushed her way out of the crowded betting rings when Tony erupted into sight, binoculars slung over his shoulder and race book in his hand. His face lit up as he spotted her.
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