Grave Consequences (Grand Tour Series #2)

by Lisa T. Bergren

  It was Pierre. Pierre! I immediately stilled, and he turned me in his arms, hugging me to his chest, even as he shielded me from anyone coming down the passageway. They’d done it. Used us as the bait in an attempt to trap the snakes. As I’d agreed. Pierre held me close, stroking my back, and I recognized that he smelled of soap and something warm, like cedar. I tried to take a step back, but he kept me close, still. As a precaution? Or because he enjoyed the excuse?

  The girls and I were trying to be quiet and listen with Pierre, Antonio, and Nario, but we were panting so hard I could hear nothing but my own breath and the rush of blood in my ears. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw that another guard was with them. I hoped we’d drawn the men into our trap. That the kidnappers would come after us, right where our men could catch them. Once and for all.

  But no one came. I wanted to cry with disappointment as Pierre lifted my chin, finger to his lips, and then walked down the passageway with Antonio right behind him, perhaps wondering if our pursuers had gotten sidetracked, even lost. Or had they sensed danger and turned tail to run?

  I wanted it over. I didn’t want to live my life always looking over my shoulder, afraid, even if it was the girls he was after, not me. I loved them, I thought with a start, looking over at them and then welcoming them into my arms like frightened little chicks. I really love them. Not just my sister, but Nell, too. And the thought of it made me angry, fierce, like a mother bear whose cubs had been threatened.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Cora

  Given the traumatic experiences of our day, Pierre did not press his request to take us to the trattoria that eve. Instead, we sat with the others after a somber supper at the palazzo as my father paced before a raging fire in the palazzo fireplace, raging himself. “We were to lose them in deviating from the planned itinerary! How the devil did they find us? I will not have this go on and on. We need to find these men and make sure they are imprisoned before our children are endangered any further!”

  Pierre took my hand, obviously wishing to bring me comfort, and I allowed it. We had slipped away to Venezia with no one knowing where we were to go. Our previous itinerary had dictated stops in Milano, Torino. How had they found us? Unless it was impossible to slip from their vision, escape them…unless they’d always had eyes upon us, every step of the way. I shivered, and Pierre looked at me with concerned eyes, resting his other hand atop mine. “I still believe it is wise to force them to ground, sir,” he said to my father. “Once and for all. You and yours cannot live in fear that at any moment they might be attacked. People like this need to be shown that you are the lion and they the prey, not vice versa.”

  “I am coming to believe that that will be our lot,” Wallace said gravely. “To be prey, never safe.” He nodded to the men who ringed us. “We are too well known, particularly since the release of those photos in that cursed magazine.”

  I winced, knowing that accusation was tossed in my direction. I burned within. Hadn’t I intuited that Art had had less-than-honorable intent? Or was Wallace merely blaming me for embarrassing him, compromising the family name, being the source of that which sent us on the run? I let out a scoffing laugh beneath my breath. If you hadn’t had an affair…if you hadn’t come to claim me in Dunnigan…

  His head jerked up, and he stared hard at me, almost as if he’d heard my thoughts. For a moment, I wondered if I’d spoken them aloud. But then he was conversing with Morgan in a whisper, conspiring over yet another plan. But my own words echoed through my head. What would have happened had he not come to claim me? We would’ve likely lost the farm. My papa would have likely died. My mama might have never seen her parents again. I would not have had the means to return to Normal School. And I wouldn’t have known my siblings. My friends. William. Even Pierre. I wouldn’t have lived a life I knew, deep down knew, I was meant to live.

  Wait…and trust, God had urged me. I’d gotten this far, hadn’t I?

  Slowly, I stood up. “I have worked from sunup to sundown, fighting weeds on the plains in order to coax wheat to life. I have helped a mare birth twin foals. I’ve dug through ten feet of snow in order to fetch wood to see us through the night. The strength within my blood is a strength we all share, and I, for one, will not back down from men such as these.”

  My guards, my family, the Morgans, and Pierre stared at me with a mixture of horror and respect.

  “We should do as we did before,” I said. “Go about our lives. And when these men make their move, we shall be ready for them. Are we not well guarded?”

  Antonio arrived in the doorway, looking red-faced from the stairs as well as chagrined. He tossed a magazine and newspaper to the side table. “It’s out, if they bother to check the newsstand and can read Italian. About Cora’s holdings in Dunnigan. Her own wealth. ‘Dirt Farmer’s Daughter Strikes Gold…and Copper’ is how the headlines read.”

  All eyes moved to me as my heart sank. Because with words like that out there, I suddenly wanted a whole army around me.

  Fortunately, I felt better in time. So when Pierre sent word, asking for me to meet him downstairs, I obliged. His eyes lit up as I entered the room, and he came to me, taking my hands in his and kissing both my cheeks. His eyes went to Anna, who took a seat in the corner of the room and pretended to lift a book to read, giving us some semblance of privacy, then he looked back to me. “Please, mon amie, sit with me for a moment?”

  “Of course.”

  He sat down beside me, inches away, so close that our knees touched as he turned toward me. “Are you well? I worried for you…knowing now that this man is in Venezia and may double his efforts to come after you. Cherie, know I will stay close to you. I will not allow you out of my sight for one—”

  I stood abruptly and rubbed my hands together. “No,” I said. “That is not necessary.”

  His face fell into a frown. Perhaps he’d hoped this new threat would help me decide, even push me into his arms. “I…I must know…would you prefer for me to leave? Perhaps I should give you some time to ponder. To consider…us. Perhaps it was wrong of me to hope that if we had but a few weeks alone, you would see me as a viable beau.”

  “Oh, Pierre,” I said with a weary sigh, sitting down again and taking his hand. Half of me didn’t want him to go; half of me did. But if he did…would Wallace truly punish me? My parents? Will? And yet…it was not at all fair to Pierre to lead him on. “I’ve always considered you more than viable. You are as Art dubbed you—a Parisian Prince. But Pierre, you have to know…this…” I waved back and forth between us. “This is still more my father’s doing than me following my heart.”

  He listened to me intently and then lifted a gentle hand to my face, stroking my cheek with his index knuckle. “But it may soon become your own heart’s desire, yes? If I wait? If I remain patient?” He smiled, but there was hurt in his eyes. Because I could not give him an honest chance. Because my heart was still tied to Will’s.

  “Forgive me, Pierre, for bringing you pain,” I said. “It’s the last thing I wished to do.”

  He lifted my hand to his lips. “If it takes pain to hear you say my name in such a tender way, bring forth the whip,” he said, kissing my bare knuckles. His lips lingered there, kissing my hand again and again, watching me as shivers ran up my arm and neck. I wondered if Anna was watching. If she was aghast at my forward, fickle nature.

  I pulled my hand from his, regretting my weakness, my fear, my eagerness to assuage his angst by simply ending it. Even if I sent him away, would Will and I ever have a real chance? Given the barriers my father had created? And if not, would I regret it, in time? Was this part of why God wanted me to wait, rest? To not rush into anything, even a decision? Pierre was so earnest, so dear.… “You confuse me,” I whispered at last.

  “That is good,” he whispered back. “For if you were not confused, then you would be decided. And until I know that you will decide for me, I am in no rush at all.”

  I rose suddenly. “I must retire for the ev
ening. Good night, Pierre.”

  “Au revoir, mon amie,” he said, giving me a gentle smile, not reaching for me, as if he knew such a move would send me running. “Until tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Cora

  After sailing to Torcello, the birthplace of Venezia, we’d been invited to a count’s home along the Grand Canal to dine that night before attending the Teatro la Fenice, an opera house known the world over. I was so weary, I thought I might fall asleep in my consommé, but as I donned one of my prettiest gowns and Anna did my hair, I felt a resurgence of spirit, eager to see another palazzo along the canal, as well as to experience an opera. The count sent many gondolas to fetch us, and my father insisted I ride with Pierre, alone, en route to the palazzo. “Simply do as I’ve asked for once, Cora,” he said when I opened my mouth to suggest I ride with the younger girls instead.

  I frowned but accepted Pierre’s arm, wondering if this was a new attempt to bait the trap, to draw out our would-be kidnapper. Why did the men not confide in me? Did I not deserve to know, more than any other, if I was indeed their target? And did I truly wish for a life as a “target”? Who else might come after me, once the world knew me as a true heiress? I had a very serious desire to board the next ship for home and take my lumps as they came. If it weren’t for my father’s threat of removing my mama and papa from the deed if I didn’t do as he said…

  I studied the water as we headed out. Who was to say that he would truly do it? Did he not desire a harmonious relationship with me? One between me and my siblings? Why had I kowtowed to his every demand? Did I not have rights of my own?

  “Pierre,” I said softly.

  He turned to me. “Yes?”

  “Do you know of a good estate attorney here in Venezia? One who might be able to advise me of my rights in regard to my new holdings in America?”

  He considered me and my request for a moment and then gave me a single slow nod. “What is it you wish to know?”

  “Many things,” I said, turning back to the water. “Many, many things.”

  “May I be of assistance? Advice?”

  “Perhaps,” I said gently. “In time. Or perhaps this is for me to find out on my own.”

  The water reflected the coral and pink tones of the setting sun, giving the canal a particularly soft, romantic look. The gondolier followed three ahead of us, pulling in toward a magnificent white palazzo with long windows along the first three levels and smaller ones on the fourth piano as well. Two men in Arabian dress awaited the guests, assisting us out and onto the stairs that led to the receiving hall. Admiring their silk turbans and balloon-like pants flowing in the wind, I felt as if I were entering a home even more exotic than any other I’d yet visited.

  Pierre took my arm, and we climbed the stairs, which opened into a courtyard, much as it did in the palazzo in which we were residing. But here, the occupants had filled every inch of the walls with rich, dark oil paintings, and in the walkway in front of the paintings was sculpture after sculpture.

  Pierre pulled me toward the Conte and Contessa Biviglio, our hosts for the evening. They were homely nobles with bulbous noses and wide bodies testifying to long, languid evenings filled with delicacies and ample wine. But their smiles and welcoming manner did nothing but endear them to me. “Ah, it is the newest Signorina Kensington,” the count said, bending to kiss my hand. “You honor us, attending our dinner.”

  “It is you who has honored us with your invitation, Conte,” I said, smiling into his brown eyes.

  “You shall be the talk of the evening, my dear,” he said, patting my hand and looking over my face as if I were another sculpture he could acquire.

  “Oh, but she already is!” laughed the countess, gesturing widely, guileless. “Here on the arm of our friend Pierre, as well as in the pages of magazines and newspapers.”

  “It seems my Cora is destined to steal the world’s stage,” Pierre said, casting me an admiring glance.

  “Just do not let our opera star hear such things,” whispered the countess, moving on to greet the others behind us.

  I giggled. “Far be it from me to ever challenge an opera star for center stage,” I whispered to Pierre.

  “No?” he said, bemusement in each handsome line of his face. “You cannot carry a tune? Is this your one fault, mon ange?”

  “One of many,” I said with a light laugh. I glanced over the crowd and stopped when I saw Lillian and Nell speaking with a tall blond man. Nathan Hawke. The man we’d met in Vienna—the one who had given us his sister’s copy of Life. “Let’s attend my sister, shall we?”

  Pierre readily agreed, and we moved toward the trio.

  “Ah, we meet again, Miss Kensington. This time under happier circumstances, I trust?” Nathan said, bowing toward me and Pierre.

  “Indeed. I think we’re all eager to put that evening behind us.”

  “Understandably,” he said with a gentle smile. He cast a flirtier smile in Lillian’s direction. “I was more than delighted to find that I’d run across my newest friends here in the city of love.”

  Lil bit her lip and smiled, blushing prettily under his gaze, but my eyes narrowed as I studied him. He seemed charming, kind, but what was he really after? A man as handsome as he could pick his own bud among the gardens. Why my sister? Because of her name?

  Pierre turned to take two flutes of champagne from a passing servant, and I checked my thoughts. Since when was I so protective? I searched the crowd again. Since I feared that man had come after my sister and her friend? Or since I decided I loved them both? The flood of emotion in my heart threatened to overwhelm me, and with sudden tears, I looked for Felix, over to Lil, then on to Vivian, Nell, Hugh, and even Andrew.

  It was as if God had spoken directly into my heart. I wasn’t ready to leave them all. Indeed, I wanted to be with them to the end. And beyond, back home in Montana. As much as my father wished for me to embrace a relationship with the Kensingtons, I wanted it myself. But how was that to be accomplished when I so hungered for the chance to make decisions of my own? To carve my own path rather than simply dutifully follow the dictates of my father?

  Wait…and trust.

  I watched as Nathan whispered something into Lillian’s ear and she smiled up at him with adoration in her eyes as he passed her a glass of champagne. Was he not far too old for her? Where was my father, anyway? Why wasn’t he looking after Lillian as he did for me and Vivian?

  Vivian moved into our circle then, clearly intent on ferreting out the same information I’d been considering drawing from this Mr. Nathan Hawke. I breathed a sigh of relief. Viv had the tenacity—and the place in our family—to do what I could not. Warn Hawke to tread very carefully with our baby sister…

  I turned with a smile to acknowledge Pierre’s gesture toward the others, now filtering to a far room to be seated for dinner. “He’s not here, our enemy,” he whispered in my ear. “Rest, mon amie, and enjoy.” But all through our many courses, from the salted sardines to the mussels in rich broth, from the delicately cooked beef to the pasta flavored—and colored—with oily black squid ink, my attention was on Nathan, who was flirting with my sister at every turn.

  It wasn’t that Lil was ugly. She was slender, and comely enough with her bright green eyes. But I’d been in social circles such as this all summer long. And I’d never seen a man as devilishly handsome as Nathan Hawke take up with a girl like her unless there was money involved. The same went for beautiful women taking up with plain-looking men. Generally speaking, it was money, and on rare occasion character, that bridged the gap. At some point tonight or tomorrow, I intended to find out just where Hawke had hailed from and what his prospects were. And what Vivian had found out.

  He took a sip of wine and saw me staring at him. He lifted his goblet in a small, silent toast, giving me a warm, inquisitive look. I continued to smile, letting him think that I was silently flirting back, all while my mind was full of Vivian tearing him apart piece by piece. But my he
art went out to Lil. The last thing I wanted was for the girl’s tender heart to be shaken by the conniving wanderings of a man such as this. What had been his true intentions when he handed me that copy of the magazine? Truly to warn me? Or had he simply viewed it as the means to worm his way into our lives?

  I had to caution Lil. Make sure Vivian had shaken some sense into her. A girl without a mother was apt to drift in her later teen years, like a ship without a rudder.

  We finished with our fine meal, letting the tart crystals of a raspberry sorbet slide down our throats, and then rose to make our departure back toward the theater. The opera would begin in but an hour, its star long departed after her appearance over cocktails. Separated by twenty or so people, I saw Nathan dare to put his hand on my sister’s lower back and bend to whisper in her ear again. He leaned back, cocked a brow, waiting expectantly, and after a moment, she hurriedly nodded, smiling shyly up at him. What was this? A proposal? For what?

  They made their way to the edge of the crowd, and when a man began coughing as if he were choking, drawing nearby attention, Nathan grabbed Lil and pulled her into a dark side hallway.

  I gasped and took Pierre’s hand, yanking him with me.

  “Cora? What is it?”

  “Come!” I whispered over my shoulder. “That scoundrel has spirited Lil off for a kiss, I’d wager!”

  Pierre laughed, the sound warm and low. “One can hardly blame a man for stealing a kiss from any of the Kensington women.…”

  “Pierre!”

  “All right, all right,” he soothed. “Be at peace. Let us see to your sister’s honor and be on to the opera. It will be a night she’ll likely remember forever, regardless of what’s actually transpired.”

  But as we entered the dark hallway, I blinked in surprise. My skin prickled in fear.

  Because it was empty. “Where’d they go?” I whispered, rushing to the end. There was only one door, and my hand went directly to the knob.