And if I settled in more deeply with them, where did that leave me and my parents? I stared out the window, thinking of Mama and Papa, cascading between concern for my papa and his health—especially after seeing Stuart alive and well one day and then gone the next—and what I had to admit as anger that lingered still toward my mama. She’d lied to me for so long about who I was…which I understood in a certain measure, and not at all in the next. When we were reunited, there’d be much to discuss.
I stared out the window and thought about that some more. How much of my reluctance to return home and face my parents’ duplicity drove my desire to stay on this tour? And how much did my mad desire to stay near Will keep me from dissolving in fear that we hadn’t left our kidnappers behind in Nîmes for good? Was I even in my right mind? And yet, and yet…for the first time in a long while I felt steady. Strong. More myself. Me again, somehow.
Will rose and stood in the aisle, supporting himself by holding onto the nearest seat as the train car continued to lurch and sway. He waited until he had our attention. “We’re approaching Lyon,” he pronounced it the French way, as lee-uh, which I found exceptionally attractive, “a venerable old city with, yet again, Roman roots. As we travel I suspect you are beginning to get a sense of the scope of the Roman Empire. At one time it stretched all the way from Britain across Europe, from southern Egypt to the Middle East.
“Lyon was a natural trade city situated on the banks of not one but two rivers, and, like Paris, she is divided into separate arrondissements, or neighborhoods. The city has the modest remains of a Roman theater, but nothing as grand as what we saw in Nîmes or what we’ll see ahead of us in Italia. But this city was the starting point of all central Roman roads throughout Roman Gaul.”
“Enough with the history, William,” Hugh called. “Are there cabarets?”
Will cast him a warning look and went on. “Lyon is famous for her cathedral,” he emphasized the word, “the lovely St. John, known as St. Jean here, with medieval bones; the sprawling park—the largest in any city in France; and the Lumière brothers, who’ve made such advancements in film.…” Will continued his tour lecture as we drew near, speaking of another cathedral situated high on a hill, of the fact that the Roman emperor Caracalla once resided here, and of the funicular railway in Lyon—the world’s first—that we would ride tomorrow. But as he spoke, I kept waiting for him to meet my gaze, feeling a thrill run down my arms each time he did, no matter how briefly.
Will closed the hotel door quietly and was surprised to find me in the hall, waiting. “Cora!” he said, half smiling. His eyes shifted down the empty hall.
“It’s all right,” I said, giving him a conspiratorial grin. “Everyone is changing for supper.”
“Good.” He crossed his arms as if he didn’t trust himself not to touch me. Leaning against the wall, he stared at me as if he wanted to memorize every inch of my face. “Cora, are you well? I mean, since the attack in Nîmes, I’ve so longed to—”
“I’m fine, Will. Truly.”
“When I think of what might’ve happened had Art not come along…”
“But he did. It’s okay. And perhaps now they will give up pursuit of us and move on.”
“Or become more determined than ever. Promise me you’ll take great care to stay with the rest of the group.”
“I promise.”
“Because if anything happened to you…” he whispered, leaning so close to me I could feel his breath in my hair. “After losing my uncle…Cora, I—”
I leaned back and searched his eyes with mine, hanging on his words, and then abruptly straightened, belatedly seeing Andrew and Vivian reach the top of the stairs and turn in our direction. They came down the hall toward us, arm in arm, and I wished for the hundredth time that Will and I could do the same.
“What news, William? Did you make arrangements for supper?” Andrew asked.
“Indeed. They’re expecting us about eight. I’d advise you to take advantage of our afternoon respite and catch up on some of the rest we lost last night.”
I reluctantly parted ways from Will with Vivian, having no tangible excuse to linger, and we chatted about what we planned to wear that night. It seemed surreal, my sister inquiring about which dress I might don, when two months ago she could barely tolerate being in the same room with me. But try as I might, all I could think about was Will and seeing him again.
“Rest well, Cora,” Viv said, leaving my side.
“And you as well,” I said. I slipped my bag from my elbow and fished out the key, turning it in my lock, then closed the door and leaned my forehead against it, fighting the urge to peek down the hall and see if William was still there, talking to Andrew. Just one more look…
But they’d left too.
That evening, Anna was finishing an elaborate knot in my hair when we heard a knock on the door. She placed the comb—laden with pearls and rhinestones—in my hair and then scurried over to answer it. “Miss Kensington,” she said, bowing her head in deference and opening it wider so that Vivian could enter.
I watched in the mirror as Vivian strode in and looked back to Anna. “Might I have a moment alone with Cora, Anna?”
“Of course, miss,” she said, bobbing a curtsy and moving straight to the door.
Casually, I clipped on an earring and reached for the other, watching as Vivian drew closer. She looked lovely in her lavender evening dress with heavy beaded lace across the shoulders, sleeves that reached to her elbows, long gloves, and her hair done up.
She stood behind me, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “Cora, I don’t know who you think you are fooling.”
“Pardon?” I said, frowning at the sudden change in her.
“You. And William. It is plain as day that you have eyes for each other.”
“Will and I?” I scoffed, my heartbeat tripling. I gave my head a little shake and slowly turned on the stool to face her. “Will and I…we understand each other. You’ve mistaken friendship for something more.” I knew if she reported to our father that we were involved, Will would be fired and sent home without payment. Wallace Kensington would consider it a grave offense.
She peered down her nose at me. “You are certain? Because Father would disapprove of you carrying on with him, even more than he would of your entanglement with Pierre de Richelieu.”
Not that it is any of his business whom I choose to carry on with, I thought. But instead I forced a small smile. “Obviously. And if it assures you any, Pierre is to meet us again in Vienna.” Even as the words left my lips, I felt a twinge of guilt.
She smiled a little then in admiration. “You certainly have managed to get under his skin.”
“I don’t know why. We have so little in common.”
Vivian sighed. “Why be concerned about that? He’s fabulously rich, attentive, and clearly enamored with you. Not to mention handsome. Why not simply accept your own happily ever after? Is it not what every girl dreams of?” Her eyes narrowed as I searched for a response. “Unless you have some sort of draw to William…”
“Vivian. Will and I are friends. Are we not allowed to be friends?” I smiled innocently. But I was careful not to claim that was all we were. It wasn’t truly a lie if it merely went unsaid, was it?
Her dark eyes searched mine. “Of course you are,” she said, straightening her gloves. “I only wanted to be certain you were clear about Father’s expectations.”
“The only expectations Wallace Kensington laid out for me were that I was to go on this tour, try to find my way with you and Felix and Lil, and then return to my schooling.” I pulled off the cork on my powder jar and then dusted my face with a brush.
In the mirror’s reflection, I saw her pause in the midst of straightening the seam on her long glove and stare at me. “Oh, no. This is but the beginning, Cora. You may call yourself by your old name, but you are a Kensington—it may as well be branded on your forehead. What Father wants, Father gets.” She sniffed. “Now that I know you, I’v
e come to accept his wisdom in this. But this tour is only the start. Your destiny is in remaining with us.”
I turned to face her. “Everyone keeps telling me that. But my deal with our father was very clear. I go on the tour; he sends me back to school.”
“It wouldn’t be appropriate, a daughter of Wallace Kensington off to be a country bumpkin schoolmarm. No, sister,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “You’ve already drawn the eye of Pierre de Richelieu. Your story shall be far more grand than what you have previously envisioned.”
“Vivian, since when did you become so concerned about me and my future? You have wanted nothing more than for me to be gone from your life at the earliest possible moment.” I turned to face her again, wanting to fully see her reaction.
She shrugged. “I decided I have enough room in my heart to accept you. And Father has more than enough money for each of our inheritances.”
“Oh, I don’t—”
“Just don’t do anything to disrupt our tour,” she interrupted, shaking a warning finger at me. “If those horrible men who continue to follow us aren’t enough to do so, you taking up with the hired help would certainly draw Father’s ire and summarily end this trip.” A hopeful smile grew across her face, and she looked to the window. “I think Andrew has aspirations for Venezia to ask a special question….”
My mind spun with all the different ways her words irked me. “So Venezia shall be the place?” I muttered.
“Truly,” she said with an excited nod, moving on as if she hadn’t just offended me in five different ways. I thought it a bit sad that there would be no surprise in their proposal, just relief that the engagement everyone knew was coming had finally come to pass. Hardly the romantic ideal but, I supposed, a typical point of passage for their set. Marriages arranged and long anticipated, mutually agreed upon, as planned as any other legally binding arrangement. Had Vivian and Andrew really ever had a choice? Or had it always been assumed they would be together, the eldest child of each copper king’s family?
“Do you love him very much, Vivian?”
She looked at me with confusion. “What?”
“You are in love with Andrew, then,” I said, rising and turning toward her. “For you to be so excited, I assume you are in love with him.”
She paused for a telling moment. Then, “I am quite fond of Andrew. I always have been.” Her tone and stance told me that her walls were once again firmly in place.
“I…I’m glad,” I said, making myself leave it at that, even though I longed to say more. Was fondness enough to make a marriage?
She gave a curt nod. “Are you ready? Shall we go down together?”
“Certainly,” I said, reaching for my bag and following her out, still thinking about what made a strong marriage. What had Wallace Kensington’s marriage been like, that had caused him to have an affair with the maid? Had their union too been based on “fondness”? But then, my own parents had been nothing but acquaintances when they met and moved to Dunnigan. And that had turned into a deep, abiding love and respect. Could not Vivian’s marriage turn into something similar?
I forced a smile and listened to her chatter about her finds shopping that afternoon with Andrew, having ignored Will’s entreaties for them to rest. Apparently she was shipping home some antique silver that the dealer swore once belonged to a cousin of Napoleon, as well as some beautiful silks for new dresses. But once my eyes found Will, waiting in the foyer at the bottom of the stairs with the others, her voice—and her warnings—faded away. He stared up at me in admiration, a tiny smile on his lips.
I am not fond of him, I thought. We are not merely friends.
I am in love. God help me. I am truly in love.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cora
“What do you think you’re doing?” Andrew said, cupping my elbow as we strode behind the rest of the group along the marble floors of St. Jean the next day.
“Pardon me?” I asked, glancing up at him in confusion.
“With Vivian?”
My confusion deepened. I looked ahead and saw Vivian between Lil and Nell. “What?”
Andrew steered me into a small side chapel and faced me. He looked so angry I took a step backward and felt the cool wall behind me. He crossed his arms and leaned toward me. “What did you say to her? Last night?”
“Last night?” I stammered. I immediately remembered our conversation. But what of that could I relate to him? Without stepping on his toes—or Vivian’s?
“Yes. Last night,” he hissed.
I stared at him blankly, wanting him to think I had no recollection.
“Don’t pretend innocence, Cora,” he said, placing a hand on the wall behind me and pointing at my chest. “You’ve interfered. Just what scheme are you cooking up in that pretty head of yours?” The veins in his temples bulged.
“S-scheme?” I sputtered. “Andrew, to what do you refer?”
“Yesterday, we had a lovely afternoon together. Then,” he said, practically spitting the word, “after one conversation with you, she’s wondering if we ought to take some time. Have some distance. Entertain other suitors.”
He looked like he wanted to strangle me right then and there. She’d said what? I was aghast. I hadn’t meant to—
“Miss Kensington? Mr. Morgan?” Antonio said, standing in the center of the chapel’s entrance. “Is there a problem?” While his words were polite, his burly arms were crossed, and he cast a murderous glare at Andrew.
“I was only having a word with Miss Cora.” Andrew immediately dropped his arm and stepped away from me. He wrapped a hand around his neck and rubbed it, meeting my gaze with a look that said, We’re not finished here. A shiver ran down my neck and back as I passed him and Antonio and rejoined the group. They had paused at another chapel, two down. Will’s eyes filled with curiosity, but he kept to his topic at the massive painting above the altar. But I couldn’t concentrate on his words, only the brooding arrival of Andrew, five paces away. And then the smirking grin of Hugh on my other side.
It was just what I didn’t need. Both Morgan men with an untoward interest in me. What had I done? My chat with Vivian had been all of a couple minutes…and she’d seemed so settled on the idea of them together.
I groaned inwardly. If I were the cause of disunion between the Kensington and Morgan families, there’d be misery to pay. But then I clenched my teeth. What if I had caused her to examine her heart? Was it not appropriate to ask such questions? Was I not serving my sister rather than cultural and societal expectations? Surely Wallace Kensington himself would support such a process. After all, if he did not fear acknowledging me as his blood kin, then how could he fear his eldest making a wise choice in marriage?
Perhaps that would change his mind about insisting I remain entrenched “in the fold,” after we got home.
My eyes shifted to my half sister as we moved toward the doors to leave. For the first time, I recognized that she was sticking firmly with the girls rather than walking beside Andrew, as she had every hour of every day we had been on tour. Outside, they paused to pose for one of Art’s photographs.
I took a deep breath. Because despite my internal rallying, my efforts at justifying my actions, I knew that I was in a whole new pot of boiling water.
“Cora, Cora, Cora,” Hugh said with a devilish grin, leaning toward me as we went back outside. “What have you done now?”
“I don’t know,” I said, feigning ignorance and reluctantly looking toward him as we walked. “Perhaps you can tell me.”
“You don’t know?” he said, cocking a brow. He made me wait several seconds, reveling in my agitation. “Vivian has turned away from my brother’s pursuit.”
“Surely you are overstating it.”
“Not at all, my sweet, innocent friend.” He took my hand and wrapped it through the curve of his arm as if we were, indeed, old friends. “I love it when you get that look of surprise in your beautiful blues.”
“Hugh, really…”
“So, how did you manage it? In a matter of hours, they go from practically engaged to barely speaking to one another. What did you say?”
“I doubt it was anything I said.… Perhaps it’s just a spat. Surely they’ll be back together by tomorrow.”
“Do you think so?” He pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Dear Drew seems quite distraught. And Vivian…well, perhaps you’re right. Maybe all she seeks is the thrill of my brother pursuing her in earnest again. Don’t all women want that?”
“Not all women.”
“No?” He pretended to consider me and my words, then dismissed it. “No. Every woman likes to be pursued. I bet you yourself get a little thrill each time I come near.”
“I thought we were past this, Hugh,” I said, forcing myself to keep my hand on his arm.
“Past it? I hope not. Our flirtations have been one of a few things that have made this entire tour of interest to me. But now, this, with Drew and Viv… You provide all manner of entertainment, Cora.”
I thought on that a moment. I hoped he was only being his cocky, jocular self, exaggerating for effect rather than being truthful. Because if he saw the moments between us—moments I found barely tolerable—as the apex of his journey? Then that was simply sad.
“Hugh, I need to know.” I glanced over my shoulder and saw Andrew and Antonio walking together, talking, Andrew slope-shouldered and shuffling in his step. “What exactly happened between Vivian and Andrew?”
“She asked him if he loved her.”
I waited a moment. He clearly liked making me ask for more. “And he said…?” I asked tiredly.
“He asked if she loved him.”
I sucked in my breath. “Poor form on his part.”
“Indeed. For what my brother has in knowledge, he lacks in wisdom—at least in the ways of men and women. I suppose I got all the good looks and understanding of how women work, in my family.” Again, I resisted the urge to pull away when he leaned toward me, and instead looked ahead to Will, who was glancing back at us in concern. I gave my head a little shake, silently telling him not to worry, and he turned his attention back to Lil, beside him.
Grave Consequences (Grand Tour Series #2) Page 15
