Glittering Promises (25 page)

“She makes it easy, as you can see,” Felix said, leaning over by the door. The three other Kensingtons had come in unnoticed, and Grunthall scowled. He’d wanted to have tight control on this interview, Will knew. Additional people and answers to the reporters’ questions might send them down paths he’d rather they not enter. But there was no stopping the Kensingtons from entering now, not without making a scene.

“We are as grateful for her as she is for us,” Vivian added, coming near the table and pouring herself a cup of tea. “Not that it was easy at first,” she admitted. “But in time, it was impossible to ignore.”

Will studied Vivian, amazed by her candor. She truly seemed to love Cora now, and her love had made her somehow softer, approachable. Cora had been good for her. Lillian just beamed at them all, wringing her hands.

“You paint quite the cozy picture,” said Jefferson, looking about. “But you’ve all been through a great deal.”

“Sometimes,” Cora said, without waiting on Grunthall’s permission, “strife brings people together.”

“But isn’t a great deal of that strife due to your presence within their group?” pressed the man. “Perhaps Miss Vivian or Miss Lillian would care to answer that.”

Grunthall hesitated. “I’ll answer,” Vivian said. “We have all made choices along our journey that have impinged upon our collective peace. Some we regret, and some we do not.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss,” said Lexington, “but we’re looking for a story, not a Sunday school lesson.”

“Perhaps there isn’t as much of a story here as you all assume,” Vivian said.

The reporters looked at each other and then raced to get in some more questions. “What about your choice to befriend a journalist who set you all up for the story of the decade?”

“Or Miss Cora’s choice to fall for your guide?”

“Was it a conscious choice to send McCabe packing back in Vienna?”

“Enough!” Grunthall shouted, slamming his hand on the table. “Enough!” Gradually, the room quieted. “You shall conduct yourselves in a civil manner,” he said with a glare, “or you shall be ushered out of this house. You are guests, gentlemen, and I urge you not to abuse that privilege.”

Lexington rose slowly. “We are reporters, Simon. Not a part of your press team. If you do not intend to allow the family to give frank and honest interviews, then we shall have no recourse but to seek our information in another fashion.” He put on his hat and reached for his satchel. “Good day.”

“But I am being frank and honest,” Cora said, her delicate brows knitting together.

The man turned to her and took off his hat again. He gestured to her with it. “Miss Cora, perhaps you don’t understand.” He put a hand to his chest. “You are not only the richest woman in America, you are the most sought-after
story
in America, and,” he said, gesturing to the windows, “beyond. If we don’t get a story worth telling, then we shall lose our jobs. And the reporters that come after us…” He cocked his head. “You won’t care for them much. They won’t be the types that sit politely in a room, waiting to write down anything you care to toss their way.”

Jefferson rose too. “Stanley is right. You can try to control the press, Grunthall. But this story is already far beyond any of us. There isn’t a person able to read in America, or Paris—or Venice, for that matter—who doesn’t know the name of Cora Kensington.
Life
was just the beginning. It’s ten times as big now.”

“Cora
Diehl
Kensington,” she said, so softly that Will almost missed it. She looked stunned. Shocked. Like a china doll with her perfect makeup and pale complexion and stiff stance in her chair. And more than a little faint again.

“And they all want to know more,” Jefferson said. “So it’s us or them. Are you ready to give us a real exclusive? The exclusive we agreed to wait for?”

“No able-minded soul tells the press everything,” Grunthall said. “Get out. This interview is over.”

“No,” Cora said, rising. She wavered, and Will reached out to steady her. “Mr. Grunthall, you are fired. Gentlemen, return tomorrow, and we shall discuss your exclusives.” She lifted a finger. “But you only obtain your exclusive access to us if you persuade your compatriots that it’s no use badgering us, we’re only speaking to you two.”

“Done,” Jefferson said, eyes wide.

“Tomorrow at three?” Lexington asked, obviously eager to depart before Grunthall made his way between them again.

“Three o’clock,” Will put in. They all rose to say farewell, but a glance at Cora told him she truly wasn’t feeling well at all. Was that why she’d made such an abrupt decision on Grunthall? He moved closer to her.

The reporters nodded, and a maid showed them to the front door. As soon as they turned the corner, Cora fainted. Will narrowly caught her. Lillian gasped, and Vivian put a finger to her lips, gesturing to the empty doorway. Cora may have promised an exclusive, but they didn’t need to make the story any more dramatic than it already was. This was the reason she’d taken charge—fired Simon in front of the others, agreed to more interviews. She’d known she was about to faint, and that would’ve just added more speculation to the stories reporters were printing daily.

Will set Cora on the settee and lifted her legs up, then stroked her face. “Cora,” he whispered. “Cora.”

His eyes shifted to meet Viv’s. “Call Eleonora. We need the name of a good doctor here in Rome.”

CHAPTER 21

~William~

“She didn’t mean it,” Grunthall said, as Will carried her past him. “I’m not fired.”

“Oh, yes, she did,” he said over his shoulder. “Pack your bags. We’ll handle our own press from now on.”

Vivian and Lil rushed ahead of him and opened the door to her room. Will set her on the bed, and the others assembled. Felix and then Andrew, Hugh, and Nell.

“What was she
thinking
, Will?” Vivian asked, pacing. “Wasn’t it the
exclusive
content from Arthur Stapleton that got us in this mess in the first place? And what on earth is the matter with her?” She gripped her belly as if the whole business had upset her stomach. “Is she ill?”

“She’s not ill! Clearly, she’s reached the limits of her feminine capabilities,” Andrew said. “She’s been sorely taxed. Asked to do far more than a woman should.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Felix said, coming to the other side of the bed and sitting down on it. He reached for her hand and gently tapped her wrist. “Come on, Cora. Come back to us. Wake up.”

“I don’t know,” Will said, stroking the hair back from her clammy, perspiring forehead. “Perhaps it all
has
been too much for her.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Andrew said.

“Please, Andrew, can you just leave us?” Vivian said, turning and splaying her hands in agitation.

Andrew stiffened and straightened, his brow furrowing. “Certainly,” he bit out, then turned on his heel and strode out the door just as Mr. Morgan rushed in.

“What has happened?” the old man asked. Nell went to him and told him. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he said, looking up at all of them again. “What other trial can befall our families?”

Vivian bolted from the room, clutching her stomach. Will and Hugh shared a look. “Maybe the girls caught a virus,” Will said.

“If only there was a ship now, bound for home,” Lillian said, wringing her hands, crying again. “How I wish we were home!”

“Oh, my dear,” Mr. Morgan said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Trouble is trouble, wherever you are.”

Cora roused then and moaned, opening her eyes.

“Cora,” Will said, turning toward her again.

“Wh-what? What’s happened?”

“You fainted,” Will said, holding her hand between his. “How are you feeling now?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, lifting the back of her hand to her forehead and gazing around at all of them. “I’ve given you another fright. Forgive me.”

“Never mind us,” Hugh said. “How do you feel?”

“All right,” she said, swallowing hard, as if she were lying. “It’s my stomach again. I fear I am ill.”

“We’ve sent for a doctor,” Will said.

“That will give those reporters something new to wonder about,” Hugh said, “if they see a doctor coming in. They’ll be off and running with a story about Cora being pregnant.” The girls shushed him.

“Really, I don’t need a doctor,” Cora said, struggling to sit up.

“Yes, you do,” said Mr. Morgan. “Even if it’s a touch of illness, we can’t be too careful.”

~Cora~

The doctor could find little wrong with me. While I felt feverish, my temperature was normal, and after a glance down my throat, he pronounced me free of strep. But after listening to my belly, and then Viv’s, with his stethoscope, he confirmed that it must be some sort of stomach bug. “Stay down,” he said, in broken English. “Rest. Broth,” he said, making the motion of a person eating soup, “through tomorrow. Should be better soon.”

“
Grazie
,” I said, smiling at him.

He gave me a shy bow and exited the room.

“How is Vivian?” I asked Lil.

“Much better. It seems to have passed.”

“Power of suggestion?” Will asked, from a corner chair.

“Perhaps,” I mused.

“Well, it’s been a full day,” Will said, rising and straightening his vest. “I’ll let you sleep. I pray you’ll feel much better come morning.”

“Thank you,” I said, accepting his kiss on my forehead.

Lillian smiled indulgently, watching the two of us, and her eyes followed him as he left the room. “He really is quite wonderful, isn’t he?” she asked in a whisper, straightening my covers.

“He is,” I said with a smile.

“Much better than Andrew,” she said, mouthing the name.

“Agreed.”

“So, how does one get two wonderful men to fall in love with her?” she asked, flopping down on her back beside me.

“I really cannot say. I’m as bewildered by it as you.”

She turned to her side and perched her head on her hand. “I found something as I was unpacking your luggage today. I was helping Anna, trying to find your dressing robe.”

“Oh?”

She gave me a devilish smile and leaped up and moved to the desk. With a look over her shoulder to the empty doorway, she slid open the top drawer and took hold of a sheet of drawing paper, then returned. Shyly, she turned it around.

It was the picture that Pierre had drawn of me in the garden. The one in which he had inserted himself, making us look like young lovers.

“Where did you get that?” I whispered. Now I, too, glanced to the door. If Will saw it…

“It was in with all your books. When I set the stack aside, they tumbled over, and there it was. So,” she said, giving me a wicked little grin, “did he draw it for you?”

“Yes,” I said, pulling it from her fingers and staring at the image. Pierre was truly a fine artist. The romance of it made me a little wistful, and that, somewhat guilty.

“You’re not having second thoughts about Will, are you?” she whispered.

“Not at all,” I said with frustration. “Now please, put this back in the drawer.”

She stood up and took the drawing from my hands, and in that moment, I felt a twinge of the sorrow I’d felt at saying good-bye to Pierre in Venice. “Don’t worry,” she said, “he’s coming back, right? Here, to Rome?”

“Please, stop,” I moaned, putting a hand to my forehead. I truly needed to send him a telegram and ask him not to come. There was no need. It’d be a useless gesture. Just one more thing I needed to do among a hundred others. And undoubtedly, the paperwork was stacking up, what with our grief-distracted days and moving to Rome and now facing illness…

“I’ll leave you now,” Lil said. “I’ve worn you out.”

“Good night, Lil.”

“Sweet dreams.” She left me then, closing the door quietly behind her, and I thought about her going home to Butte without her father, without her mother. Would I be welcome there? Would I live there with them? Or would I find my own home?

I fell asleep and was soon dreaming of being a rabbit, with a wolf fast approaching, but I was unable to find my rabbit hole…

CHAPTER 22

~Cora~

“Ah, there she is,” Hugh said, as I entered the breakfast room the next morning. “Feeling worlds better, I take it?”

He was sitting with Andrew and Felix. I saw Andrew glance over the top of the paper, and then he snapped it taut, disappearing behind it again. Felix rose, came over, and kissed me on the cheek. “Well
done
, sister. No languishing in a sick bed for a Kensington!”

“A
Diehl
Kensington.” Andrew sniffed, turning the page in his paper. “Vivian is still in bed.”

“Probably avoiding you,” Hugh jibed.

I turned away, uncomfortable with the likely truth in his comment. With no servant in sight, I took a croissant and poured myself some tea from the sideboard before sitting down with the men. The younger girls were apparently taking their leisurely time rising as well.

“Felix and I were just coming up with a plan to manage the press, now that you’ve chased off our Mr. Grunthall,” Hugh said. “We believe we can so fill their column inches of paper with tales of our upcoming Roman escapades, that they’ll leave the rest of you in peace.”

“I see,” I said, sipping my tea. My stomach was definitely stronger this morning. “So you seek to aid us,” I said sardonically, “by sacrificing yourselves to the press.”

Hugh winked at me. “We are ready and willing, my lady, to serve the families in whatever capacity we can.”

“And get our pictures before all the socialites in Rome sooner than later,” Felix added.

“We’ll be invited to any party of importance,” Hugh added.

“Aren’t we weary of parties?” I said with a sigh. “And after what we’ve been through with Father—”

“Exactly the reason to indulge,” Felix said. “It’s time to shed our mourning cloaks and embrace the city before it’s time to go. He’d want us to do so.”

I shook my head. The idea of resuming the tour in a carefree manner felt…wrong. “What if we simply sightsee and spend these last days together before we embark on the
Olympic
? Surely, Will and Antonio could fill our days.”