Dance to the Devil's Tune (Lady Law & The Gunslinger Series, Book 2) by Adrienne deWolfe

Author:Adrienne deWolfe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2016-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Before the end of intermission, Sadie heard the rumor: a heroic hillbilly and his raccoon had saved Dolce LaRocca from a thief.

The whole opera house was buzzing with the news. Before the curtain could rise on Act III, Mendel Baines and Wortham Welbourn had started hustling an indignant Lilybelle from the theater. As the dowager passed the proscenium boxes, she hollered up at Dante:

"I always said Harridan couldn't be trusted! Now that she's been stupid enough to prove me right, why should it wreck my evening? Tell these two knuckleheads I want to watch Mephistopheles ruin Faust in peace!"

Titters and gasps circulated through the audience.

"Poor Mrs. Welbourn," Wyntir breathed, her eyes as big as blue moons.

Dante patted his agitated ward's hand. "It appears Lilybelle needs a friend. Do not fret, my dear. I shall go to her. Fiore, pray forgive me. A doctor's work is never done. If this matter should escalate, do me the favor of escorting Wyntir to Greyfell Manor at the end of the show."

"Of course, dottore."

He flashed his devastating smile, which made Wyntir sigh and Sadie's blood heat. Then he parted the curtains, vanishing into the shadows as completely as the phantom of another, more infamous opera house.

Wyntir wrung her handkerchief and slid onto Dante's vacant chair. "I was so hoping tonight would be different," she whispered, her eyes brimming with crocodile tears.

"Different, carina?"

"Dante never seems to have time for me anymore."

Sadie sighed. She wasn't surprised. Wyntir had turned him away from her bed. Either Dante was exercising gentlemanly restraint by avoiding his ward, or he was punishing Wyntir in a fit of hurt pride. In either event, Sadie suspected Dante had little trouble finding substitute bedmates.

Wyntir toyed with the ringless third finger of her left hand. "I wish I was more like you, Fiore," she blurted out. "You're so wise in the ways of men. And marriage..."

Wyntir let the plaintive word hang in the air. Sadie's heart went out to the younger woman, who'd been left all alone in the world without the guidance of a mother. The real question wasn't, 'Would Dante propose?' The real question was, 'Would he propose because Wyntir inherited a fortune on Saturday night?'

"You've been trained to think of Dante as a parent," Sadie said gently, squeezing Wyntir's hand. "A child expects to be the center of a parent's universe. But a wife understands she must share her husband with children, parents and siblings, colleagues and clients. When Dante is your husband, he will always have patients, who need him more than you do. Your love must be big enough to allow this. A doctor needs a wife with a selfless heart."

Wyntir nodded, her eyes brimming with gratitude. "Yes," she whispered, dashing a tear from her cheek. "Yes, you are right. Thank you, Fiore. Of course, Dante must put his patients first." She straightened her spine in her chair. "And I couldn't be prouder of him for dashing off to help Lilybelle. What do you suppose she meant about

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