by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
David leaned up against a tree as he watched Marty alight from her carriage and make her way into the crowded ballroom. Once again he was trailing the young woman as Adam and Joe kept an eye on Gregory Miller.
She was quite the socialite—at least in certain circles. The stiff-lipped bourgeois wouldn’t have her, of course, for she was not respectable. No one knew anything about her parents and it was scandalous the way she lived alone with all those young bucks flocking to her.
But stage-folk and artists loved Marty, recognizing her as one of their own. The same could be said for the patrons of the arts—like Mrs. Haley. That rich widow was blue-blooded and thoroughly respectable, but she was not adverse to throwing her home open to actors and artists on occasion.
Tonight was one such occasion. David had no invitation to this ball, but that didn’t stop him from strolling in. Thanks to his mother, he was well acquainted with Mrs. Haley and her butler recognized him at once. The grande dame herself cornered him soon afterwards, chiding him for not calling on her the moment he arrived in San Francisco and demanding to hear news of Josephine.
At length David escaped Mrs. Haley and made his way to Marty. He was tired of merely trailing her—it was time to take the bull by the horns.
She had been flirting with one of her young bucks but she turned and smiled at David as he approached her. She held out her hand to him, which he dutifully accepted and kissed.
She introduced David to the young buck before sending the poor fellow off to fetch her a refreshment. Then she favored David with her full attention.
"You’re not quite dressed for a ball," she commented, frowning playfully.
"Not quite," he agreed. Fortunately, unlike Adam and Joe, David didn’t meander around San Francisco dressed as a cowboy. He always wore a frock coat, waistcoat and cravat. However he was not in proper evening clothes.
"Would you be ashamed to be seen waltzing with me, dressed as I am?" David inquired, knowing full well that even in day clothes he could outshine most of the other men present.
"Not at all," Marty assured him as her eyes danced with delight. "I half-promised this next waltz to that young man, but since he hasn’t returned with my refreshment yet…"
"Quite," David agreed, leading her out onto the floor.
She was an excellent dancer—David had to give her that much. In fact, she was almost a worthy partner for him. They made an attractive, entrancing pair and soon commanded the ballroom.
Marty was a charming flirt, he decided. But her eyes were soon offering him more than a flirtation.
David continued to smile down at her, but he couldn’t help but feel vindicated in his assessment of her. She may or may not have had a hand in blackmailing Stephen and estranging him from his father, but she was certainly not the innocent that Adam imagined. No, she was ambitious for her art and eager to gorge herself on attractive men—in that order.
Adam had slammed his fist into David’s jaw for nothing. Everything David had said about Marty was true—except that she was not Niles’ mistress. There was no way to protect her from the ways of the world. Not when she was so eager to explore them and gorge herself on them.
He didn’t judge her for the invitation that still lingered in her eyes. She was young and high-spirited and why shouldn’t she enjoy herself? She was risking disaster, of course, in the form of diseases or unwanted children, but that was her own concern. As long as she hadn’t purposely set out to estrange Stephen from his father (so that she could make off with Stephen’s inheritance) David had nothing to hold against her.
As their waltz drew to a close, David bowed and returned her to the young man who was smarting on the sidelines, holding a glass of punch in his hands. But David was careful to secure Marty for the next waltz first. The poor lad would have to content himself with a set of country-dances.
David stood up with a young character actress who had more talent than beauty for the country-dances, saving the girl from being a wallflower. Then he made his way back to Marty in order to claim his waltz.
But Marty looked a trifle pale when he took her hand. He decided to forgo the waltz as he led her out into the garden for a breath of fresh air.
The fresh air didn’t seem to help. It soon became obvious that Marty was ill. The poor girl was mortified. She even ordered David to leave her alone for a few minutes. But he stayed by her side as she bent over and vomited into a rose bush. When she was done, he led her to a bench and sat down beside her.
"Keep your head down," he advised her. "You’ll be fine."
"I know," she managed. "This will pass in a few minutes—I just wish you hadn’t seen me like this. It’s—it’s all the excitement of the ball. I always get my stomach tied in knots when I’m looking forward to a dance."
But David had seen Marty at other balls. He hadn’t danced with her before, but he remembered thinking what a hale and healthy filly she was. She always greeted the last dance with the same energy and enthusiasm she displayed for the first. He couldn’t ever remember seeing her pale or overdrawn.
"Are you with child?" he asked bluntly.
She cringed at the question but managed a nod.
David sighed. "I’m going to take you home. Are you well enough to stand?"
She nodded again and looked up at him. "You’ll cause some rumors if you escort me home," she reminded him.
He smiled. "Are you afraid of rumors?"
"No," she said frankly, returning his smile. "I find that the more rumors there are about me, the more people purchase my paintings."
David laughed. "Then I don’t think either of us need to fear gossip. I’ll call for your carriage."
LINK TO PART SIXTY-THREE
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