Glittering Promises (21 page)

“For national elections?”

I nodded, my excitement growing as the idea formed in my mind. “And if we stood together, Vivian—as friends as well as kin—well, our Mr. Grunthall would have quite the story to wield indeed.” I studied her, my chin in hand. “You photograph well. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that a few bachelors turning up on Father’s doorstep in Butte, if they were to find out you were no longer Andrew Morgan’s—”

“Shh!” she said with a frantic frown, gazing to my closed door, as if the lout was just outside.

“Do you fear no one else will express interest? But who would dare with him around? Lillian told me he’s always had a temper—I take it that’s a well-known fact? Take him out of the picture, join arms with me as a suffragette, and you’ll find an entirely lovely sort of man. A man who can lead and yet allow his woman to shine too.” I smiled, thinking of Will. “Not someone who wants to put his woman in a cage.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do,” I said firmly, squeezing her hands in mine.

She looked down, thinking for a long while, then back to meet my gaze. “I’m going to do it,” she said in a whisper. “End it. Tonight.” She looked wan, but she also looked relieved to have made a decision.

“You’re sure?” I asked, stunned she’d finally decided.

She nodded.

“I’ll be nearby,” I said. “If you need anything. Or if Andrew gets unruly… Should I warn Will?”

“No!” she said, eyes sparking in alarm. “Please. No one else must know. If Andrew finds out from anyone else…” She shook her head. I knew what she meant. It would be terrible enough when she told him.

I agreed, and we walked out of my room and down the hall, arm in arm. We were silent, but all along, I was praying that the Lord would give her courage this night, strength to follow through on her decision. That He would give her encouragement and, most of all, that Andrew would peaceably accept it.

But as we came down the narrow stairwell, we could hear raised voices. After a shared glance, we moved down the second hall, into the great room and then outside to the veranda. Those gentlemen who weren’t standing rose when they saw us. The last turned, and we recognized the press agent.

Mr. Grunthall had returned from his venture to Rome, where he’d gone to “pave the way for our arrival.”

And apparently he did not have happy news to report.

CHAPTER 16

~William~

“Cora,” Will said, offering his arm and ushering her in closer, “Mr. Grunthall has just told us that the newspapers are printing outrageous stories in our absence. He has asked us to hasten to Rome and complete our tour in public, giving reporters daily access.” He frowned and rubbed his temple. “But I don’t like it. It’s not safe. It will take Hawke only hours to find us. He’s certain to be awaiting us there, knowing we’ll eventually show up.”

“You
think
,” Andrew said. “But why pay all these guards if we’re going to continue hiding out in the country?” he asked, flipping one hand toward Pascal and another at the far corner of the veranda.

“It’s true,” Hugh said, crossing his arms and leaning against the villa wall. “So far, it’s more of a vacation for Pascal and Stephen than any hardship.”

“I don’t regret keeping them on,” Mr. Kensington said. “But are they enough manpower, William? For what is ahead?”

“In normal circumstances, yes,” Will said. “But what Simon is describing seems rather chaotic. And he wants us—Cora—at the center of that storm.”

“It’s the only way,” Grunthall said firmly. “Since we cannot leave before the ship sails, we may as well take hold of this story and steer it ourselves. Because what they are saying…” With a glance at Cora and Viv, he let it drop and shook his head.

Cora frowned. “Then let’s get to it,” she said, lifting her chin. “Do what we must. Speak to those we must. There are things I’d like to begin addressing myself, important matters, and perhaps this isn’t a bad place to begin.”

Will stared at her in surprise. “I don’t know, Cora. I don’t think you understand what it might be like. Gone will be your quiet escapes to the countryside. You’ll be followed everywhere. Hounded.”

“But won’t that be good, in a way?” she asked. “If there are reporters about us all the time, wouldn’t that make it more difficult for Hawke to get near again? He wouldn’t dare.”

Will sighed. “Perhaps.”

“Why must it all center on Cora?” Andrew said to Grunthall, tossing back the last of his wine and reaching for the carafe to pour more. “I’m the rising leader of Kensington & Morgan Enterprises—why not craft a story about me?”

Will winced, hearing the pathetic, plaintive tone in the grown man.

“While every one of you is of continued interest,” Grunthall said, “it is Copper Cora that has caught the attention of the readership at large.”

Andrew reached out to grab Vivian’s hand, and she reluctantly stepped closer to him. Andrew seemed not to notice her hesitation. “What if we announced our engagement?”

Everyone stilled.

“Is that official, then?” Grunthall asked carefully, shifting his eyes to Viv and back to Andrew.

“I don’t know, is it?” Andrew asked, smiling down at Vivian as if he expected her to immediately nod and smile. To Will’s knowledge, the only proposal he’d made was a halfhearted attempt in Venice, which had ended badly. And judging from Cora and Vivian’s glance at each other—

“No,” Cora interjected too quickly, forcefully, surprising them all. She squared her shoulders and looked about at them, clearly trying to divert attention away from her sister. “This is my time. My moment. You all have had years of press. The public wants to know about me. Well, let’s give them a story that will keep them entertained.”

“Just as I thought.” Andrew sneered, taking another swig of wine. “As long as our precious Cora gets what she wants—”

“Now see here—” Will said, stepping forward.

“What I
want
?” Cora cried, stepping forward too. “The only thing I’ve wanted is to be a part of this family, this company. To follow my heart but also the wisdom God gave me.”

Andrew glared at her, then sighed heavily. “You stupid, silly woman,” he muttered, shaking his head and turning away.

“Andrew!” Viv cried in dismay.

“What? She is! Thinking only of herself! You want the journalists to have a story, Grunthall? I have some stories. I think it’s time the newspapermen focus not on the big, bad Kensington and Morgan families, but the treasure-seeking, manipulative little wench known as—”

Felix decked him before any of them saw it coming. Andrew staggered back, and his goblet went flying, crashing among the stones behind him. He cradled his jaw, glaring at Felix, and took one step toward him before Viv stopped him.

“I think you’ve said quite enough,” Felix said, holding his clenched fist before his chest.

Andrew continued to stare at him for several seconds, while the rest of us held our breaths. “Come along, Vivian,” he said, never letting his eyes drop from Felix.

Vivian went with him as he asked, visibly trembling.

“Viv,” Cora said, reaching out to try and grab her hand.

“No. He’ll stay away if I go to him.” She looked at Cora, begging her with her eyes. Will thought she looked desperate. Frightened.

“
Viv
…” Cora tried again. And Will knew then for sure that something else had transpired between the sisters. Some agreement.

Something shifted in Vivian’s eyes, and she bent her head and turned to follow where Andrew had gone, striding away down the length of the villa.

When they had turned the corner, the rest of the group sank to their seats, all feeling overcome with the weariness of the moment. Will took a sip of wine, and then he looked to Mr. Grunthall. “What on earth are they reporting that is so heinous? That causes these families such grief?”

“Some have said,” Grunthall said gently, leaning forward again, “that Cora has been killed and buried so that her father can keep all the Dunnigan holdings for himself.”

Cora gasped.

“There is much speculation as to whether your sisters or brother,” he said to Cora, “or perhaps your future brother-in-law did it.” He nodded toward the corner of the villa, where Andrew and Viv had disappeared.

Cora frowned. “That’s easy enough to dispel. Put my picture in one paper, and all will see that it’s foolishness.”

Mr. Grunthall picked up a twig of lavender blown loose by the wind. “Others say that you and Mr. McCabe have entered an illicit affair, and the family has disowned you, and now you’re all in hiding.”

Cora shifted in her seat and glanced toward him. Will glowered at the press agent. But she had to know, had to be warned of what she faced. For the first time, Will acknowledged the wisdom in Mr. Kensington’s decision to hire the press agent and looked at the older man. He’d been silent through the entire conversation and appeared to have aged as the details unfolded.

“Still others have suggested that Mr. McCabe himself orchestrated the events of your tour, to position himself as a hero, all in an endeavor to force the Kensingtons and Morgans to pay him significant bonuses, lest they look like cads if they didn’t.”

Will laughed under his breath and rubbed his forehead. “Lies! Such lies! And they call themselves journalists?”

“They do not report it as fact,” Mr. Grunthall said. “They merely report the suppositions of those you’ve met—”

“
Met
being a loose term,” Felix said, rubbing his knuckles and flexing his fingers as if they ached.

Everyone was silent, waiting on Cora. She turned to face Grunthall. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need of me. But only if Will is beside me, all the way. I will not hide how I feel about him,” she said, looking at her father.

Grunthall pursed his lips, considering her. His eyes flicked over to Will. “It will only intensify the scrutiny. If they find out that Cora has chosen Mr. McCabe over Pierre de Richelieu?” He rubbed his face and then shook his head, splaying his hands out on the table and looking down a moment, then back up to them. “I guarantee none of us have ever seen such a media frenzy as what shall occur then.”

“Don’t do it, McCabe,” Wallace said to him.

Will stared hard at the old man.

“The girl has enough to handle without this, now,” Wallace said, gesturing between them.

“No,” Cora said, rising. “You do not get to decide this, Father. Not this. This is between—”

Wallace gasped and pulled his fist and right arm to his chest, looking stricken.

“Wallace?” Mr. Morgan said. “Wallace!”

Mr. Kensington leaned heavily to his right, his eyes bugging out. Felix and Hugh both rushed to his side as he slid partway out of his chair and helped him to the ground.

Cora knelt by his side and tried to take his hand, but his hands were clenched, as if he were frozen. “Father? Father, what is it? What is wrong?” She leaned over him, holding his face in both hands, then looked up with stricken eyes at Will. “Will! We need Eleonora! We must fetch a doctor at once!”

CHAPTER 17

~William~

Cora paced the hall of the hospital in Siena until the morning sun streamed through windows amber with age. Around the corner, her siblings leaned against one another or the Morgans in a line of straight-backed, uncomfortable chairs, most of them fitfully sleeping, the others staring straight ahead, dark rings beneath their eyes. Andrew brought small cups of soup for them all to drink—insisting they keep up their strength—and each took one, too dazed to fully consider the incongruity of Andrew doing anything of the sort.

Will leaned against a wall, arms crossed, one foot crossed over the other, and watched as Cora sipped her soup. He’d long since given up trying to talk her into sitting down, resting. She had it in her head that it was her fault—that she’d pressed Wallace to a point that his heart couldn’t take. But Andrew’s tantrum hadn’t helped either. They’d been over it several times.

“I’ve been so caught up in my own drama, Will,” she said, shaking her head in self-condemnation, “that I didn’t stop to see him, really see him.” She lifted a hand to her temples and shook her head. “What kind of daughter am I? What kind of woman am I?”

“Stop,” he said, reaching out to grab her arm. “Cora, stop. Stop blaming yourself. None of us could see it coming. The man has been as strong as an ox for decades. He’s looked a bit wan of late, yes. But we’ve all been through the wringer.”

“It’s because of me, Will… His worrying, over me, my safety.”

“As well as your sisters, your brother,” he put in.

“And then I’ve pressed him so, over the mine,” she said, ignoring him. “Doubling his work, really, in having to teach me. Resisting Andrew’s help. It’s all been too much.”

“Clearly,” Will said. “For all of us, really.” He took a deep breath. “Look, you couldn’t see it coming,” he repeated. “Life is not something we can manage or control. It’s something we negotiate every time the path takes a turn. The turns just keep coming faster as we get older, right? Especially as a Kensington?”

“That’s not what I want to hear, Will,” she said, giving him a pained look.

“I’m sorry. But it’s the truth. You’ve been beating yourself up all night over this, as if you yourself made the man have a heart attack. You didn’t. It just…happened. People of a certain age have things happen all the time. Look at your papa and my uncle Stuart.” He took a deep breath and sighed. Getting irritated with her would only make things worse. “The only thing we can do is pray for wisdom on how we move forward from here. What’s best for Wallace. What’s best for the family. For you.”

A nurse—a nun in her habit—passed by them, giving them a look of disapproval, he supposed for not staying with the others. They ignored her.

“You’re right, of course,” she said wearily. “We need to get him to Rome. The hospital there is supposed to be better than…” Her voice cracked, and she lifted a hand to her face.

“Oh, my darling girl,” Will said. “Come.” He pulled her into his arms and held her as she wept. Gradually it dawned on him. “It’s a little too close to what you suffered through with your papa, isn’t it?” he said lowly.