Grave Consequences (Grand Tour Series #2)

by Lisa T. Bergren

  Stuart groaned and lifted a hand to his gray head. “Go,” he grunted. “The last thing we need is for another of our clients to come to a poor end this night.”

  “If I can be of service,” Arthur said, “I can go with Antonio.” His keen eyes moved to Will. “In case you’d rather remain here with Cora.”

  “If they’ve been imbibing, it may take a number of us to bring them home,” Will said. “They had plenty to drink even before they left. But I have to change.” Will looked down at his wet trousers.

  “Then go change!” his uncle erupted. “Get on with it!”

  Will felt his cheeks burn, chastened as if he were a schoolboy. Still, he hesitated and lifted a hand. “You mustn’t call a doctor. She is cold. Shaken. But she will be fine, come morning.”

  Uncle Stuart lowered his bushy eyebrows. “You are certain.”

  “Fairly certain. And as she said, if her father hears of this, so soon after our escapade in Paris…”

  Uncle Stuart raised one hand and shook his head in agitation. “Fine! Fine. I shall see to the girl. You go and collect the boys. Please…” he said, turning to Antonio. “Tell me that some of our charges are safely in bed this night.”

  Antonio gave him a rueful smile. “Vivian, Andrew, Lillian, and Nell are all accounted for. Only masters Felix and Hugh have slipped away.”

  “Thank heaven for that.” His droopy, weary eyes met Will’s again. “Well? Why are you still here, son? Go!”

  “Yes, sir,” William muttered, turning away. But as he wearily climbed the stairs, he wondered if they’d all be best off if the tour was canceled and everyone went home.

  Because his heart was at war with his mind, remembering the feel of Cora in his arms, the way her small hands felt in his, the wonderment in her eyes when she said you saved me…

  Something had shifted in that moment. Nearly losing her had almost stopped his own heart from beating. And bringing her back made it seem as if his heart now beat to a new rhythm of its own.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  William

  The closer they got to town, the more frustrated Will became. How long did he have to go, trailing the progeny of the world’s rich and famous and hauling them to safety? Where was the justice in it? How is this fair, Lord? What is Your plan for me in this? Help me to learn it, so I can venture on to some other battle.…

  They found Felix and Hugh in the village, in a narrow cabaret that opened onto a seating area and tiny stage; it was so late, the show was over. Will breathed a sigh of relief even as he choked on the thick smoke. The young men were drinking wine out of ceramic cups, a local maid on each arm as they made stumbling attempts to speak to them in French. Antonio laughed and shared a knowing look with Arthur. But Will was feeling anything but amused, only wishing he was back at the chateau, watching over Cora or falling into his bed for some much-needed sleep.

  “C’mon,” Will said over his shoulder to Antonio. “Let’s pry them out of this place, or none of us will get a blessed hour of sleep tonight.”

  Not that sleep was likely anyway, he thought darkly. Despite his deep weariness, his mind sparked with activity. Over and over, he replayed Cora placing her hands around his.

  What was he doing? He’d broken all kinds of his uncle’s rules—not telling him all he should know, going against him, in a sense. Holding Cora and wishing he could go on holding her, kiss her… Slowly, he acknowledged the truth. I’ve wanted to kiss her all along, since the first day I met her. But I can’t. I can’t. To chase that desire might open up a future with her, but it would definitely spell the end of any chance of getting back to school this fall. And without a future, without enough to even secure more than a modest flat and a month’s rent, what could he offer her? My uncle would have me on the first train out of here…to say nothing of what Wallace Kensington would do if he found out.

  He thought about Cora choosing him over Pierre de Richelieu. It made him laugh under his breath. Whom would you choose, McCabe? “C’mon,” he said, tapping Felix on the shoulder. “We’re here to escort you gents home.”

  Felix’s blue eyes, so like Cora’s, widened in surprise and delight. “Gentlemen! Excellent! I was just saying we had far too many pretty girls to choose from. Now you can ease our conundrum by taking a couple off our hands.”

  “You can share, Kensington,” Hugh said, lifting the chin of one pretty girl and leaning his forehead toward hers with a smile, before smiling at the other, who was pouting on his other arm. “I find the more, the merrier.” He caught sight of Arthur behind Will. “Yes, man, yes! I want a picture of this night to remember!” Pulling both of the girls close, he posed for the man as he squared up a photograph.

  “Stay very still,” Arthur said, peering into his viewfinder. “In this light, I’ll need more time for the exposure.”

  “Fine by me,” Hugh said. “Longer to caress their sweet, French curves…”

  “You know they’re as drawn by your fine clothing and fat purse,” Will said. “You smell of money.”

  “Better to smell of money than the streets,” Hugh said, barely moving his lips.

  Will turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Never had he wanted to punch the man more than he did right then. Cora was back at the chateau after having almost died and here they were—

  A hand touched his shoulder, and Will wrenched away. Belatedly, he realized it was Antonio, not Hugh, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

  “Will,” Antonio said, tentatively stepping toward him and frowning in confusion. “Why don’t you get some air, outside? Art and I will see to the young gents.”

  Will ground his teeth and turned, pushing his way through the laughing, chatting, drunken crowd until he was outside, beneath the light of the moon, breathing in deep draughts of cool night air. “What am I supposed to do now?” he said, lifting his hands up to the skies, thinking of Cora’s touch, thinking of her staring up into his eyes. He felt utterly lost. “What now?”

  Hugh and Felix eventually emerged with sour looks but without further complaint, followed by Antonio. They made their way back to the chateau, with Will brooding all the way home. He was so tired of playing guardian. So frightfully tired.

  Still, he knew he had to check on Cora as soon as the young men were safely in their rooms. After Anna’s whispered, “She’s resting peacefully,” he dragged himself back up the stairs and down the hall to bed.

  Surprisingly, he fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.

  Now, morning light tugged at his eyelids, urging him to rise. To go up top. Where the men were likely getting ready to jump.

  He gasped and rose, throwing back the covers. What if one of them hit the water as Cora had the night before? An impact such as she’d suffered, from a greater height… He’d been so angry with the men last night, so agitated, he hadn’t told any of them that it would not be allowed today. He rushed to pull off his nightshirt and hurried into his bathing costume, then ran down the hall, through the vast salon, the dining hall, and then out to the sprawling deck.

  But when he got there, panting, the only person he saw was Cora, clad in a bathing costume. Her back to him. It was then that he recognized how early it was, the pink of dawn just edging the eastern horizon. Cora’s breath fogged in front of her face, and she rubbed her arms.

  “Cora,” he said lowly, not wishing to startle her and make her fall. Not when she was perched forty feet above the surface of the water.

  “William,” she said, not looking back.

  He strode over to her and climbed atop the wall beside her. “Are you mad?”

  “No,” she said, flicking a thick blonde braid over one shoulder. “Determined.”

  “Sometimes there’s a fine line between the two,” he said.

  “I imagine so.”

  “How’s the head?”

  “A good, steady throb, but better than last night.”

  “Don’t you think that a leap this morning is rather foolhardy?”


  “Haven’t you heard? It’s best to get on the horse as soon as he’s thrown you. Otherwise you might never climb in the saddle again.”

  “Some horses aren’t meant to be ridden.”

  “This one is.” And with that, she stepped out and began her descent.

  He shook his head and held his breath as her arms windmilled, steadying her position. Then she pointed her toes, pinched her nose, drew her arms tight beside her body, and plunged into the river, as straight as an arrow. The blue water turned green as bubbles rose, all around her point of impact.

  His eyes searched for her, waiting, waiting, his heartbeat tripling in time. And then she popped up, gasping for air and floating onto her back, smiling up at him.

  Heavens, she’s lovely. A river siren. Grinning, he jumped too, entering the water ten feet from her, and then hurrying to the surface, eager to see her again. Hear her voice.

  “Now that is how it should’ve gone last night,” she said when he broke the surface.

  “Indeed.”

  She turned toward shore and, with light strokes, made her way there. So different from last night… He followed her, choosing breaststrokes, so he wouldn’t miss one second of this moment, just the two of them. She reached the boulder and attempted to clamber out, slipped on a rock, and fell back into the river.

  He laughed. “Here. Let me help you.” He edged closer and took hold of the rock, an easier span for him to reach across, then offered his hand. She took it and made her way up and over the rocks and onto the platform. He followed and opened the gate for her. Just inside, she paused as the gate clanged shut behind them.

  “Will, I wanted to speak to you about last night,” she said, her tone laced with apology. She leaned back against the wall and played with her fingers, as if nervous.

  “There is no need,” he said. But inwardly he wondered what she was speaking of. Of the rescue? Of making him promise not to summon a doctor? Or for reaching for his hands? He started to walk past her, but she reached out and took hold of his fingers with two of her own. Slowly, he turned toward her, the familiar electric jolt jumping up his arm, up his neck, down through his shoulder blades.…

  “I think there is,” she said. She dropped his fingers and lifted a small hand to his chest. He froze and closed his eyes—as if she were about to rip his heart out and he was powerless to stop it. He felt drunk around her. His senses alert and yet slow at the same time. “Will. Please look at me.”

  He forced his eyes open to see the silent invitation in her gaze. He shook his head, even as he leaned his hands above her, against the wall, rather than pulling her to him as he longed to. She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face, her brow furrowed, anxious, wondering….

  He scraped his fingers across the rough stone blocks, trying to remind himself not to touch her. She is not yours. Not yours…

  “Cora. What of Pierre?” he asked, each word paining him.

  “He is lovely. Almost too good to be true,” she said. “But so are you.” Her fingers wandered over his brow, his cheeks, his jaw, as if she were trying to convince herself. “And this…this thing between us,” she whispered, so quiet he could barely make out her words. “I have to know. Once and for all. Is it real?”

  “Don’t do this, Cora. I can’t resist…I don’t seem…” He leaned toward her and breathed in the scent of her skin, washed in the clean river water, making her smell fresh like France itself—honey and lavender and grass and water….

  His head was beside hers, and for several long seconds they stayed there, inhaling, intoxicated by sharing the same bit of air. “I can’t,” he whispered, perilously close to her pert ear, dearly wanting to kiss it, then her cheeks, then her lips.… “You have to know that I would if I could. But this…” He shook his head slightly. “It’s against my uncle’s principal rule—no courting the clients.” He huffed a laugh, without mirth. “Not that I have the means to court anyone, even if I wished to go against him.”

  She lifted her chin and turned her face closer to his, so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. “Don’t you know,” she whispered, “I’m not a woman accustomed to men of means? William McCabe, I’m a simple woman of the plains. Raised on a farm with none but two old dresses and one pair of boots. And I can’t deny…I can’t deny what I feel. Not after last night. Can you?”

  Sick in the belly with swirling waves of both desire and fear, he stared into her eyes. And for the first time, he knew her as his compatriot, another person of simple heritage, simple means, lost in a rich man’s world. He understood her. And she, him.

  “Cora,” he said, leaning closer, her lush lips just barely brushing his as he whispered her name.

  “Will,” she breathed, her beautiful eyes reminding him of the Mediterranean, the sky just freed from storm clouds.

  He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

  Outside, a splash, and then another, sounded. They both stilled, caught. Discovered. Shame washed through him. What was he doing? Compromising Cora’s reputation? Her future? As well as his?

  He closed his eyes, agonized at breaking the moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away from her, an act as difficult as pushing open a bank vault. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, rubbing his neck, not daring to look back at her, doubting his resolve, still wanting to take her in his arms again. “They shouldn’t find us in here. Alone.”

  “No,” she said, staring at him as waves of pain washed through her eyes. “They shouldn’t.” All trace of warmth, heat, was gone from her tone. Only embarrassment. Sorrow. She raced past him, up the stairs, and practically shouted at Yves to unlock the gate, desperate to escape through it and into the safety of her room.

  Will stayed where he was, his head pounding with one thought.

  I just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  Cora

  I was mortified. What did I think I was doing? What must he think of me, behaving in such a wanton manner? When he’d carried me to my room, I had been so certain there was something more in his eyes. Something I’d glimpsed before, recognized. And he seemed so intrigued by my touch…I thought he needed only a bit of encouragement to express his intentions.

  What an imbecile I’ve been.

  I’d been horribly forward. Enticed him, when he meant only to stick to his uncle’s rules. Clearly, I’d imagined far too much—the stolen glances, the moments when we connected. Even if he was attracted to me, he didn’t intend to act on it. And well he shouldn’t, Cora. What are you doing to the poor man?

  He was the bear’s apprentice, my guardian. My protector. The drama and danger had encouraged our intimate connections. Nothing more. Nothing more…

  A knock sounded at my door. “Mademoiselle? A package for you.”

  I opened it, wondering how long it would take for the dull thud in my head to quit pounding, obviously the repercussions of my clumsy jump last night. Or was it now from my awkward, embarrassing moment with Will?

  A maid offered me two boxes tied with ribbons.

  “Merci,” I said, closing the door after her and taking them to my bed. I slid the ribbon off the first box and opened it. Above the tissue wrapping was a card with a bold PDR monogram on top. Pierre. Lord of the sprawling estate outside Paris. Politician. Businessman. And in some odd, star-crossed manner, my potential beau. Presumably, all I had to do was accept his pursuit and he would court me in earnest. But truly, how was that ever to work out? A Montana farm girl and a Parisian nobleman? The idea of it was preposterous. And yet, here it was….

  Tentatively, I opened the card, feeling doubly embarrassed now. It was as if he knew, had seen me with Will moments ago, even from miles away.

  Mon ange, I miss you terribly. I still hope to reach you before you depart Provence. A mere evening together would assuage my heart’s need to be with you. In the meantime, I send you this as a token of my affection. ~Pierre

  With a sigh, I reached for the tissue and then gasped
as my fingertips met the smoothest, richest silk I’d ever touched, in a lovely caramel color. Anna knocked and peeked in before I spoke, carrying a small breakfast tray. “Miss? May I be of service to you?”

  “Please,” I said, since I was still in my robe, my wet hair down around my shoulders. I pulled out the jacket. With an overlay of exquisite lace and beads, it was lightweight, perfect for a day of touring in the hot Provençal weather, but also elegant enough to see me through many daytime occasions with nobles.

  “Oh, my,” Anna said, as she finished pouring my tea. “Isn’t that lovely?”

  “Indeed,” I said. I pulled out a matching skirt and a delicate lace dickey to go underneath the jacket. “But is it proper, receiving clothing from a gentleman?”

  She smiled. “As long as it is clothing such as that, I see nothin’ wrong with it. Quick, open the other box.”

  Obediently, I did as she asked, untying the ribbon on what clearly was a wide hatbox. “Oh!” I gasped, bringing my fingertips to my lips. It was the exact shade of caramel as the new suit. Around the top was lace to match my jacket. I pulled it out and put it on, moving to the full-length mirror. “My goodness. Have you seen anything so glamorous since we left Paris?”

  “Hardly, miss,” Anna said, peering at me from over my shoulder. “You must wear it today. It’s perfect for our trip up the Canal du Midi to Carcassonne.”

  “Really? You don’t think it’s too much?”

  “Pshht. Not at all. I’ll just go and give your skirt and jacket a quick press while you eat a little something and drink your tea. But we have to be quick about it. The minutes are ticking away, and we’re soon to be off.”

  “All right, then,” I said, drawing hope from her bustling optimism. But as she disappeared behind me and I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I knew my glee wasn’t entirely for the right reasons. To be certain, the clothing was grand. Pierre’s gesture, beyond sweet. But what brought me ultimate satisfaction was the thought of Will finding out who had given it to me.