Grave Consequences (Grand Tour Series #2)

by Lisa T. Bergren

  “Hold, Cora,” Pierre said, all trace of amusement now gone. He tucked me behind him and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small revolver. I shook off my surprise over his weapon as he opened the door. We saw that it led down a set of stairs and heard the lapping of waves; it was a sort of servant’s entrance to the canal. A small lamp illuminated a part of a gondola bobbing on the waves.

  Pierre hesitated. “Perhaps he only wished for what I myself wished—a gondola ride on a beautiful eve with his lady. Alone.”

  “Only you would gain my father’s permission first, yes? I doubt this one has.” He wasn’t one of the kidnappers. It was impossible. This was innocent…in certain measure.

  Antonio appeared behind me. “Have either of you seen Miss Lillian?” he said.

  “Yes. She disappeared down here. With Nathan Hawke.”

  His bushy eyebrows lifted. “Well, regardless of his intent, Mr. Hawke is about to be relieved of her company. Will you permit me?” he asked Pierre, reaching for his own pistol and passing us.

  “Stay here,” Pierre said to me, turning to follow Antonio down the dark stairs.

  Wringing my hands and fighting the desire to follow, I watched them descend, crouching to see better.

  But then a hand clasped over my mouth, and strong arms dragged me back into the dark hallway. A man quietly closed the door to the canal and flipped the lock, then turned to face me, still held in the iron grip of another.

  I knew who it was before he fully turned. My kidnapper.

  He smiled into my eyes. “Hello, Miss Cora. Did you think you could outrun me forever? Bring her,” he said cavalierly to the man who held me, turning to walk down the hallway, back to the main portion of the palazzo, whistling, hands in his dress jacket’s pockets. He looked like any other nobleman at our table that night.

  I prayed that any of the men would come around, looking for us, for Antonio. I glimpsed a small crowd of people to my left, their backs all turned. Had the others not yet missed us? Or did our guardians think we’d simply become lost in the crowd leaving for the opera, somewhere among a hundred gondolas?

  My enemy looked one way and then the other, then bent to light a cigarette, giving my captor a casual wave to move ahead. The man held me so tightly against his chest I could barely breathe, my toes inches from the ground. We moved right and through a hidden door and then brazenly past several servants all absorbed in their tasks, their backs to us.

  The man laughed lowly as we entered another hall. He looked down at me. I was breathing fast and furiously through my nostrils, trying not to pass out from lack of oxygen. “Miss Cora Diehl Kensington, I am Luc Coltaire,” he said with a little bow. “After all this time, we’d yet to be formally introduced,” he said to his companion, as if it was some great oversight. All humor left his voice with what he said next. “And now you shall come with me, on my arm, smiling. Or you shall see your little sister die.”

  Lillian. They had her.

  “Come along quietly, and she will be released, unharmed.”

  I stared at him, feeling hatred so intense that my heart pounded. After a moment, I nodded.

  “Good. Release her.”

  He stared hard at me as his companion let me go, waiting for me to try to run, to scream. But I merely straightened and pulled back my shoulders. He stared at me in wry admiration. “Shall we?” I said.

  He laughed again and offered his arm. Begrudgingly, I took it, and we followed the huge man who’d held me out of the hall and down into a garden. From a side gate, we entered a narrow alley, the buildings so close together that we had to walk single file, me between the men now. A part of me was giving in to panic. But a larger part of me was surreally relaxed, relieved to finally be here. One way or another, my run-ins with this Luc Coltaire and his minions would end here, this night. Whether I lived or died, it would end tonight.

  But oh, how I wanted to live…

  Coltaire grabbed hold of my arm as we turned, three blocks down, and hurried over cobblestones and through long, arched tunnels, from one tiny piazza, an ancient well at her heart, to the next. All of Venezia appeared to be sleeping—we spied few passersby. At one point I thought I heard a shout, and then another, but they were blocks away.

  I prayed Pierre and Antonio hadn’t run into more of Coltaire’s men, that they’d turned and broken down that hallway door. Perhaps even now, our men were filtering through the streets, giving chase.

  But if they caught us, would we lose Lillian forever?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Cora

  “Ahh, here we are,” Coltaire said, pulling me inward as if inviting a long-lost friend home.

  I blinked in confusion, seeing I was among five men and my sister. She was red-faced, her eyes swollen from crying, and she sat in a chair in the middle of the room. Nathan knelt beside her, patting her hand. So it was true. They had managed to kidnap them, too.

  I moved to try to comfort her, but Coltaire blocked my way. “Uh-uh,” he said as if chastising a wayward girl. “Not yet, big sister.”

  He slowly circled me, perusing me as if seeing me anew, as if every layer of my skin were made of gold. He came before me again and slowly let his eyes drift down my body and then back to my face. “I’ve waited a long, long time for this moment. Even more since Vienna.”

  “Leave her be, Coltaire,” Nathan said, rising. He came between us and shoved Luc back a step when the man stubbornly refused to budge. Then he slowly turned to me. “You, my dear Cora, have proven a hard woman to track down.”

  And it was then that I knew Nathan was in on it…in with Coltaire. All along…all along. He’d even said he was from Montana, lately from New York. Obviously privy to my father’s discovery in Dunnigan—my own holdings there, now. Giving me the copy of Life. Knowing it would help us trust him, all the while sending us into an uproar, unbalancing us. Giving them the opportunity to corral us and capture me. For what?

  “What do you want?” I asked, looking from Nathan to Luc.

  Luc crossed his arms, tapping his pursed lips with his fingers, then brushing his brown hair out of his eyes. “Just a small portion of your fortune, heiress. A fat payment will buy your freedom, and you shall be on your way, never to see me or Hawke here again.”

  Nathan looked at me too, awaiting my response.

  “My father will never pay you.”

  “That’s why this is so deliciously perfect,” Nathan said. “He may not. But you will. You have money of your own.” He moved over to Lillian and casually moved the hair that had fallen from her knot past her shoulder and let his hand rest there. I tensed, clear on what he threatened. “After I put your name together with you in Vienna, with that article in Life, I remembered where else I had heard your name. A newspaper from Montana, and a story about one of her newest, wealthiest residents…”

  “You are a fool. I have no access to my inheritance. I only found out about it myself in Vienna.”

  “I can wait until you find the way,” he said, running his fingers over my sister’s clavicle. She whimpered and turned bright green eyes at me, pleading for me to bring it to an end. “We’ll take a train to Switzerland together. The bankers are rather clever there.”

  I steeled myself. “Pay a kidnapper once, deal with others behind him. We’d never be free of your kind.”

  “Ah, you sell us short, Miss Kensington,” Luc said. “Nathan and I will take this secret to the grave, won’t we, Nathan?”

  “Of course,” he said with a languid smile. He continued to smile at me as if his secrets held many layers.

  “And the others?” I said, looking to the other men in the room.

  “They know it is wise to follow orders,” Luc said, all trace of humor gone from his face.

  “Who’s to say I’d be free of you? What would keep you from coming back to me?” I dared to take a step toward him. “No. I shall not pay you.”

  He stared at me for a long moment. Then he pulled Lillian away from Nathan, forcing her
to her feet, his hands around her neck, and drove her to the stone wall. He lifted her, choking her, ignoring me as I tried to pry his fingers from her throat, scratching at his arms. Her eyes bulged, and her face became bright red.

  “Stop it!” I screamed, bodily attempting to push him from the wall, from my sister. But he was strong. Immovable. Lillian’s growing stillness sent terror through me. “Stop it!”

  Coltaire turned a casual eye toward me. “So you wish to fetch our money now?”

  “Yes! Yes! Just release her!”

  He dropped his hands, and Lillian collapsed to the floor, choking, croaking for air. I gathered her into my arms and looked up at him. “How could you? How could you be so…monstrous?”

  They ignored my cries. Nathan went to the door. “Keep watch. The Misses Kensington and we have a train to catch. I’m off to buy tickets,” he added with a smile. He sobered and pointed at Luc. “No more harm to the merchandise, you understand me?”

  Luc lifted his hands and shook his bowed head, as if it was the last thing on his innocent mind. But just before Nathan departed, he gave me a slow, sure smile. I hated him. Hated him for drawing Lillian in, using her innocence against her. Hated him for using me. My thoughts turned to Pierre, our guards.… Would there be any way for them to know where we’d been taken?

  Lillian clung to me, weeping in my arms.

  “I was such a fool,” she whispered, sniffing. “I’m sorry, Cora, so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I said, hugging her close. “It’s understandable. Confusing. I might’ve made the same—”

  Coltaire went to the door, opened it, and peered out, Nathan now gone for several minutes. “Come on,” he said, lifting me abruptly to my feet as another man lifted Lil. She cried out. “Quit it,” he said to her. “No more of your sniveling. We have some walking to do.”

  Fear surged through me as they gagged us and tied our hands behind us. Where was he taking us? Didn’t Nathan expect us to be there when he got back? But then I realized a move might be to our benefit. Surely if we came across any other pedestrians, they would see us in our finery and most of these men in their work clothes and notice that something was amiss.

  A man in front searched the narrow street, looking both ways, then he moved out with us right behind him. They hurried us to a small canal and dumped us into the bottom of a gondola, a man sitting on either end. We immediately set off, not running across any others in this remote waterway, the apartments above us dark, their occupants slumbering. We passed block after block. Our boat joined a larger canal as the moon rose, but the two gondoliers we passed did not give us a second glance.

  I wondered where they were taking us. I wondered how angry Nathan Hawke would be when he discovered he’d been used to capture us and then double-crossed. I wondered how all of this could possibly come to a peaceable end.

  We pulled alongside a short pier, and one man lifted me and then Lil up to it. A second gondola bearing the other three men pulled in next. Two men took hold of my arms and led us down a small cobblestone street that ended at the doorway of what appeared to be an abandoned church. They pulled us in and shut the heavy door behind us. But my eyes weren’t on the door.

  They were on Will McCabe and Art Stapleton, dressed in black and white finery, as if they’d just set off for the opera house themselves. My heart leaped within me at the sight of the man I loved.

  “Will!” I cried as Luc yanked me closer.

  “You fool! Why bring him?” Luc said. Did he direct his question to Arthur? I frowned in confusion.

  Art lifted a brow. “The disenfranchised bear, so easily dismissed by Kensington? The jilted lover of our own divine Miss Diehl Kensington, thrown over in favor of Pierre de Richelieu? Easy. Justice. As well as his own earnings for his exclusive story. We all gain here, Luc. Now let us get on with it.”

  I searched Will’s face, knowing it could not possibly be true, but he avoided looking back at me. Doubt edged in. No, not my Will. It’s impossible! Impossible!

  Art pulled a camera from his pocket. “Now be a good fellow, Coltaire, and light another lamp, would you? I need a bit more light to capture these two, bound and frightened as they are. Forgive me, Cora, Lillian. But I cannot resist recording this latest drama along the path of your Grand Tour. My readers will fight for copies.”

  Luc handed me to the nearest man and begrudgingly lowered another lamp and lit it, all the while keeping his eyes on Art and Will. Lillian was sobbing, and I wished I could go to her, but the man kept me in his grip. Luc turned to another of his men. “Take a look outside,” he whispered. “Make certain we are yet alone.” Then he called to Art, “Give me my share, and I’ll be on my way.”

  Was he working for Art?

  “Of course,” Art said. “Simply put on this mask and pose with your victims, will you? Then you can be off, your money well earned.”

  Luc caught the mask he threw him, and his companion caught a second, while Art looked through the viewfinder of his Kodak. Could this truly be happening? All in an effort to complete his story? Again I tried to grab hold of Will’s gaze, but he did not look my way. Because he was guilty? Or fearful that he would give himself away?

  “Hold still,” Art said, opening his shutter and holding his breath. He looked up at us. “All right. Now one without the gags.”

  Luc hesitated. “If they scream—”

  “Only the dusty saints of this forgotten church will hear them. These walls are as thick as a tomb.”

  Coltaire untied my gag, letting his hands linger around my head. “Someday, we shall meet again, my sweet conquest.”

  “I shall be bearing a pistol pointed at your head,” I returned.

  He laughed softly.

  “What of Hawke?” I added. “Were you too greedy to share the spoils?”

  He paused. “Hawke’s deal was potential. I knew Stapleton’s payment was certain. I’m less a gambler than an opportunist,” he said, turning me to face him and staring through a slit in the fabric of his mask. “Still,” he whispered, glancing toward Will, “I have half a mind to kiss you before I go, just to test how removed Mr. McCabe truly is.”

  “If you try, prepare to leave your lips behind,” I said through gritted teeth. “For I will bite them off.”

  He laughed. “You’re not nearly as sweet as you appear.”

  “Cease toying with her,” Art called. “Turn her back to the camera. Lillian, too.”

  After a second’s pause, Luc did as he was instructed. Art took the photo and then pulled a heavy sack of coins from a belt beneath his jacket. “Gold,” he said, tossing it to Luc. “Spendable in any country in which you wish to hide for a time. Dive deeply, Coltaire. I do not wish for our enemies to discover you. Nor hear from you ever again.”

  “A pleasure, as always, to do business with you, Mr. Stapleton,” Luc said, bowing and pulling off his mask. But as he tossed it aside, I heard the distinctive click of Art’s Kodak. Both Coltaire and his companion, also unmasked, stilled, but Art was turned toward Will, and appeared to be taking his photograph.

  They turned to go, the door slightly open, when it burst inward. Antonio and Pascal came bounding in, tackling Luc’s companion. Coltaire screamed his outrage, and our other three guards waded in, pulling Antonio off their companion, then Pascal. Antonio fired a pistol, and I took hold of Lillian and hurried her to the corner, hovering over her, our hands still bound but our feet free, shielding her with my back. A moment later, a man pried me away, pulling me backward so quickly I almost lost my footing.

  As soon as his arm wrapped around my neck and he dragged me out, I knew it was Luc even without seeing him. Will kept step with us, threatening to strike him with his cane, hesitating as he watched Luc clamp down against my neck. Men behind him clashed, fighting, going down, entering the fray again.

  Luc laughed. “So you are not as much the jilted lover as the disenfranchised bear, it seems,” he tossed out. He was steadily making his way to the door, then out into
the small square in front of the church. Did no one in Venezia remain up past sundown, other than those on the canal? I wondered wildly, looking about at the dark windows. Or did they merely fear to wade into such a tempest?

  Coltaire dragged me down an alley, and we emerged on the grand, sprawling piazza of San Marco, her church’s domes shining beneath the rising moon. In the distance, I glimpsed small figures beneath the basilica’s entrance walking toward the Campanile, but we were too far away to call for help. We paused, both Luc and me panting heavily.

  Without further warning, Will struck, hitting Coltaire on the arm that held me.

  Luc cried out in pain, releasing me, and I hurried to and around Will. He lifted his cane toward our attacker. But when Coltaire growled and came after us, Will met him halfway. In seconds it was done, Coltaire on the ground and Will atop him. “Polizia!” he cried as Luc squirmed beneath him. “Polizia!”

  “Give it up, Coltaire,” Will told Luc. “We have you. On film.”

  Two policemen entered the square, down by the church, and ran in our direction. Will stood up, explaining what had happened, and they hauled Coltaire to his feet, his face a snarl. “This is not over.”

  “Oh, yes,” Will said, stepping toward him. “It is.”

  An officer lifted his hand to Will, speaking rapidly in Italian. Gradually, Will pulled back and nodded at the policeman when he apparently asked him to come to the station with me, to file our statements.

  We watched until they disappeared from the piazza, shadows disappearing among greater, wider shadows. And then Will pulled me into his arms, kissing my face, my head, my lips, as if making sure I was real, not an apparition. “I was so scared, Cora. So scared. That I would lose you. Forever.”

  “No, no,” I said, smiling up into his eyes. “That’d be impossible, William McCabe. You came for me. In spite of it all. And I’m so glad. So, so glad.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Cora

  Three days later

  We were in the palazzo salon, having tea, when Will and Antonio escorted Art Stapleton in, hat in his hands.