I pulled my summer dress back on, easing the tight sleeves over my sweaty skin. How I longed for the light, flowing work dresses from the farm! But there was nothing like that in my trunks; my lightest, airiest dresses were far too formal for an evening’s walk. And I didn’t want to draw any undue attention. I only wanted fresh air. And space.
If we had still been along the Rhône, I would’ve taken another dive off the deck into the blessedly cool waters. My best chance for relief was a walk along the walls, where the breeze came up from the sea, through the valley, washing over me and easing my tension. I exited my room quietly, not wanting to disturb Vivian in the room to my left or Lil to my right.
At the end of the hall, Antonio straightened and watched my approach. “Something you need, miss?”
“Yes. Some fresh air. It’s terribly hot in there,” I said, gesturing back to my room. “Perhaps after an hour’s walk, it will have cooled enough to sleep. I hate to impose on you….”
“No, no,” he said in his thick Italian accent, frowning and rocking his head back and forth as if my words pained him. “It is no trouble at all. Let me get another man to take my post. You will wait here?”
I nodded and knit my hands together, hoping against hope that it would be Claude or Yves who came to take his post. I wasn’t in the mood to see Will. I bit my lip and tapped my toe, waiting for what felt a long time, considering leaving on my own. But that would be foolhardy, inviting trouble…. At last I saw shadows dance at the far end of the hall, entering from the servant’s staircase.
I found myself holding my breath as they approached. Every nerve in my body felt alive. I trembled, alternately excited and furious, fighting for composure. Both Yves and Will followed Antonio. Which one of them was to accompany me?
“Master Will says he’d do well with a walk too,” Antonio said with a conspiratorial grin in his dark eyes. “I shall remain at my post here.”
“Yves will come too,” Will said. “Given the hour. And your reputation.”
“Of course,” I replied evenly. “But surely Antonio and Yves can manage a late-night walk with me? There is no need for you to be troubled, Will.”
“My knee is aching,” Antonio said regretfully, his dark brow lowering in confusion. Plainly, he thought I’d welcome Will’s company. “But I can manage if—”
“No, no,” I said, already turning, agitated. “It will be fine.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Will closed the gap between us. “Don’t let my presence upset you, Cora. You will have the space you seek. I can follow you by five paces, as your guardian, nothing more.” Not daring to speak, I nodded and forced myself to walk through the door he opened for me, and then ahead of him.
Yves quickly took the lead, and Will followed me, each five paces from me. We walked down the street and then climbed the turret stairs, round and round, up to the top of the city’s inner wall. The wall was dotted with other late-night pedestrians out enjoying the cool of the night and a tapestry of stars above us. I sensed Will close the gap as we passed several gentlemen having a leisurely smoke, then felt him ease back when we passed two young lovers, arms intertwined, caring neither for propriety nor reputation. Even as I tried to push away all thoughts of Will, I longed for such freedom, but it still felt deliciously intimate to be even this close to him. His eyes on my back, my hair. Even if he didn’t want me. Even if this was as close as we would ever be.
I’m walking the walls of a medieval city, I thought, striving to remember this moment, absorb it, as the bear had encouraged. I ought to be thinking of it, committing it to memory so that I could share it with my future students, rather than thinking of the man behind me.
Especially with Pierre here in the city, coming all this way to see me…
But again and again my mind went to Will.
Will. William. William McCabe. I wonder what his middle name is.
Two men came directly toward me, speaking rapidly, trying to catch my eye.
Ahead, Yves turned, and Will edged closer to me again. I watched as the men caught sight of Will, and their eyes widened in understanding. They immediately gave me a wide berth, passing me by with a genteel nod rather than engaging me. It made me smile, Will’s powerful presence. Other men respected him. Not because of his money or his clothing, but simply because of his presence.
I breathed in the cool night air, feeling more and more calmed the farther I got from the chateau. The farther Will and I were away, together. I stopped at a city tower topped with a steep cone of a roof as the others were and glanced back at Will. I pointed up and raised my eyebrows, silently asking his permission. He tipped his head toward me, assenting, but held up his hand. He gave a low whistle, and Yves turned, saw what we wanted, and then went up to the tower to make certain no one else was there.
Yves soon returned and, with a flourish and a smile, gestured upward. I climbed the stairs, around and around. When I reached the top, my breath caught. I went to the tower window to look out upon the city and beyond it, the mountains in silhouette, blocking the pale stars, competing with the moon. It was beautiful. A fairy tale. And yet if I were the princess, who was the prince? Pierre, back at the chateau, peacefully sleeping? Or the man who had denied me, keeping his distance below?
I paced, moving from window to window, trying to sort out my feelings, my thoughts for a long, long while. When I heard the trudge of footsteps on the stone, I turned and found myself praying it was Will. Then praying it was not. I turned back to the window, unable to withstand the suspense of seeing him arrive.
Was it Yves? Or Will?
He stood behind me for a long moment, and by his hesitation, I knew it was Will. Every hair at the back of my neck stood on end, waiting for his touch. Would he give in? Admit that something was happening between us? Something unavoidable? Or might I finally set it aside?
After what seemed forever, he laid his hands gently on my shoulders and then slowly, ever so slowly, ran them down my arms until he intertwined his fingers with mine, his chest against my back.
I could barely breathe. I closed my eyes and leaned against him, relishing the feel of his arms covering mine, his cheek resting against the side of my head.
“Cora,” he whispered. Equal measures of frustration and hope in one word.
“It’s beautiful, is it not?” I tried, feeling as if I ought to attempt some sort of conversation.
“Not half as beautiful as you,” he said, his lips close enough to my ear for his breath to warm it. I shivered, and he released my hands, wrapping me in his arms. I reached up to put my hands on his burly arms and leaned my head back against his chest, still looking outward. It’s true. Despite what he said, he cares. He cares!
“We only have a moment,” he said. “I told Yves I was coming to fetch you.” Gently, he turned me around and placed a hand on the side of my face. “I know I should keep my distance, Cora. But I can’t help myself. God help me, I can’t….” Then he bent to kiss me on the lips, using his other hand to pull me close. He smelled of soap and spice and leather, and his lips on mine felt…uncommonly wonderful. After a while, I nestled against him again, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart.
“What are we going to do, Will?” I asked.
“This,” he said, edging slightly away to tip my chin up so I was looking at him. “Stolen moments until the summer ends. Then, once we’re home, I’ll be free to go to your father and ask him for his permission to court you properly.”
I pulled farther away. “It isn’t his decision to make. After you cease to be my guide, and I your client, Wallace Kensington…” I shook my head in frustration. “It is Alan Diehl that you should seek out. He is more my father than Wallace Kensington ever was or will be.”
Will withdrew and stood beside me, arms crossed, as I continued to look outward through the window. “You think Wallace will be content to send you off once the tour is complete? You do your thing, he does his?”
I frowned up at him. His words were so cl
ose to Hugh’s that alarm bells went off in my head. “Why, yes.”
“You’re wrong. This is just the beginning of Wallace Kensington’s plans for you.”
“What? What are you talking about? He and I have a very clear agreement. I take this tour, get to know his other children, and he will fund the rest of my education, as well as see my parents to a better place. That was it.”
“And you have no interest in getting to know him further?”
“No,” I said. “I know all I need to at this point. Alan Diehl is my papa. It is him I miss, think about, pray for. Not Wallace Kensington.”
He nodded thoughtfully, then reached out to take my hand in his, pulling it to his lips. “I’d go seek out the pope, if necessary, in order to get permission to court you, Cora Diehl Kensington.”
His kisses on my bare knuckles sent shivers up my arm, and I smiled up into his eyes. “I do hope it doesn’t go as far as all that,” I said.
He lowered my hand, now holding it between both of his. “What of…Pierre?”
That was more difficult. I knew that Will was the one my heart longed for. But I hated the idea of disappointing Pierre, bringing him sadness. He was such a delight, so supportive, so sweet. He’d never done a thing to make me turn from him. But it was unkind to lead him on; I needed to tell him. Tomorrow. Before he left.
But my plans proved impossible.
Because in the morning, the bear was dead.
CHAPTER NINE
Cora
I ached to go to Will. To give him a hug, try to ease his pain. Sorrow etched his face. Over and over he reached up and massaged his forehead, staring at the ground, the sky, the mountains in the distance, as if he was trying to accept the truth of the matter. Stuart McCabe was dead.
He’d died in his sleep. A heart attack, the doctor said with a shrug, as if it happened every day. I knew it likely did happen every day. But not to Stuart McCabe. Not to Will’s uncle—his only surviving family, that I knew of. Not to our bear, in the middle of the Grand Tour.
Arthur, Antonio, and Pierre saw to all the funeral arrangements. Apparently, the bear had always wanted to be buried where he breathed his last. “‘Don’t bear the burden of shipping my corpse home, boy,’” I’d heard Will say to Felix, obviously quoting his uncle. Through it all, Pierre was so caring and courteous—to the point that he put off his business at home—that I couldn’t summon the courage to tell him what I had decided. The service in the chapel was brief, with the pastor speaking in French so quickly and in such a mumble I doubted even Will could follow what he said. And then the men lifted the simple casket and carried it out behind the church to a cemetery that looked over the green rolling hills, with a view of the mountains in the distance, and the river below.
They’d lowered the casket into the ground, the pastor said a few more words—bored, as if he’d rather be anyplace but with us at that moment—and then tossed a fistful of dirt on top of it. He departed without a further word, and the look of woe on Will’s face as he stared after the man made my heart break. I knew there were no words that would make it right. Nothing that would ease the pain. But it made me wish for some, with everything I had in me.
One by one, my siblings and the Morgans and Art went to him, touched his arm, shook his hand. Felix thumped him on the back. Lil gave him a hug, and he clung to her a moment, grateful. How I wished I could do the same! But Pierre was by my side, taking care of me, I supposed. Watching over me. His tenderness moved me as much as it irritated me. We approached Will, and I reached out a hand to touch his arm and then hesitated, pulling it back, clenching it before my belly. “I’m so sorry, Will. It’s a terrible loss for you,” I said.
He met my eyes and then glanced over to Pierre and back, such pain in his gaze it made me want to weep. He nodded. “It is. I’ll miss him forever. He was good to me.…” He looked out over the valley and then back to the grave as two men began shoveling dirt into it, not even having the courtesy to let us depart.
“Come, come, my friend,” Pierre said, gesturing toward Will and then down the path. Pierre put a hand on his shoulder, and I walked on Will’s opposite side. “It is sooner than the bear likely wished, but he could not have chosen a finer place to end his own grand tour, could he?”
Will smiled then, and I was grateful to Pierre for his kind words. “No, I suppose he couldn’t.”
We all paused and looked across the magnificent castle rooftops and dual walls of the ancient city and the verdant valley beyond. It was a good resting place. A fine stop.
“He trusted you, Will,” I ventured to say. “I mean…if you choose to go on. Your uncle had been leaving most of the guide duties to you this last week. Had you noticed?”
He studied me a moment, as if surprised by the observation, and then nodded. “That’s true.” He shook his head. “He wasn’t himself. I should’ve known…should’ve pushed him to see a doctor.”
“And then what would’ve happened?” I asked. I thought about my own papa…about him rallying in Minnesota. It could so easily have gone another way. “God holds our lives in His hands. I think the bear lived it out the way he wanted—on a journey, and now onto the next. He didn’t strike me as one who would’ve been content at home for long.”
Will stared at me, and I sensed he drew a measure of comfort from my words. Pierre turned and offered his arm to me. After a moment’s hesitation, I took it.
Back at the chateau, after Pierre had gathered his elegant luggage and a footman had brought it to the foyer, I rose from my seat beside Lil and Nell to go and say farewell to him. I wished I had it in me to tell him that this was it—that he shouldn’t come to me again—but I felt weak, weary. And knowing Pierre, unless I was quite forceful, he’d only take it as a challenge to change my mind when our circumstances were less glum.
He offered his hands as I came near, and I placed my own in them. He pulled me close to kiss both of my cheeks, slowly, tenderly, as if letting me go caused him a physical ache, and I felt terribly guilt ridden. This isn’t me. I can’t go on this way. Over his shoulder, I saw Antonio keeping watch at a respectful distance.
“Pierre, I…there’s something I ought to tell you.”
“Non, mon ange,” he said, studying my face, not letting my hands go. “Do not say it now, in the throes of grief. This is not the time to make any decision.”
I started, surprised that my feelings might be so plain to him, and he smiled. He squeezed my hands and leaned forward to whisper, “I know this seems improbable. This romance. But give me a chance. That is all I ask. I shall see you in Vienna. Be safe.”
I sighed and gave him a small smile. “Are you certain? Why—”
He interrupted me with a quick shush and leaned forward with another squeeze of my hands. “Until we meet again, mon ange. Adieu.”
Helplessly, I watched him wait for the butler to open the door, and then he was gone.
William
Felix and Arthur sat across from him in the drawing room of the chateau down in the city. Antonio stood by a window, chin in hand. Will looked out and thought that Richelieu was right—that Uncle Stuart would’ve approved of this final stop on his lifelong tour, with views of both the magnificent mountains and the castle, like a foretaste of heaven itself.
But now was a point of decision.
“What will you do?” Arthur asked quietly. “Take your clients home?”
“No, no,” Felix interrupted. “Pierre suggested we return to Paris for a while. To rest. Gather ourselves. Then decide. Let’s not make a rash decision.”
Will’s furrowed brow deepened. Take Cora back to the Richelieu chateau? Toward their would-be kidnappers? And Richelieu? He shook his head. “I think not. My uncle…he’d want me to carry on. I have all the paperwork. I’ve led this tour with him for years. The very next one was to have been my first, solo.” He shrugged his shoulders and dared to look at the men. “Why not simply carry on?”
To their credit, they managed to hide any hint of d
oubt. And their apparent belief that he could indeed fill his uncle’s shoes was all the support he needed. Antonio gave him one encouraging nod. He rose. “We’ll move on in the morning.”
“Surely you need another day—” Arthur began.
“No. We’ll go on to Nîmes. Continuing on will be…therapeutic. I’ll see them through to Vienna, then leave it to their fathers to decide. They may very well elect to take them home then.”
“I could go on with you for a bit longer,” Arthur offered. “Now that you’re down a man. I have a couple more weeks before I’m due to return….”
Will studied him. He seemed sincere, and even though Uncle Stuart had hardly been a physical guardian of late, he had been another set of wise eyes and ears. Surely Art could be as much assistance—even if he elected to leave them early. Will reached out a hand to him. “I’d be grateful. Even if you can’t accompany us all the way to Vienna, it helps to have another man about.”
“Say nothing of it,” Art said, shaking his hand.
“Now to tell the Morgans and Kensingtons,” Will said, looking to Antonio.
The older man put a hand on his shoulder. “You are already a fine bear, William. I have every confidence in you, as would your uncle.”
“Thank you, Antonio. I’m glad you’re with me.” He felt a wave of melancholy wash through him. A hope that Uncle Stuart would enter the room at any moment. He’s gone…gone forever.
“Of course! Where else would I be? I shall miss your uncle dearly, but it is as he would have it. You, continuing on in his stead.”
But as Will entered the hallway, he wondered whether he would continue if Cora Diehl Kensington wasn’t one of his clients, and if there wasn’t a handsome check awaiting him at the end of the journey.
Grave Consequences (Grand Tour Series #2) Page 10
