Glittering Promises (27 page)

He caught sight of Cora as he lifted Eleonora’s arm and twirled her one last time in their waltz.

He stopped moving entirely. Allowed Eleonora to flounder awkwardly as she turned from her spin. He could feel Eleonora stare at him, suddenly growing still beside him and then turning to follow his glance to Cora. Others stared too, at him, at Cora, and dimly, he was aware of a crowd gathering around her.

But his eyes were on Cora alone, three feet away.

She was impossibly elegant in that new black gown. But it was her lips, her lush lips, that captured his attention most. They were parted, as if she was stunned. As if he had hit her, hurt her.
Grief
, his mind belatedly registered.

“Here I was, looking for you,” she said lowly. “Thinking of Syon House and how we danced…”

Eleonora stepped away from him, as if guilty, and that made him angry. She had nothing to apologize for. It had only been a dance! Where was Pierre? He looked over Hugh’s shoulder to the steps and spied Pierre watching them, casually bending his head to light a cigar. Looking…smug.

Cora was turning, fleeing, and he rushed after her. “Cora!”

Hugh put a hand to his chest, trying to stop him. “Don’t, Will. The reporters—”

Will didn’t care. He rushed after her, through the crowd, followed by men on either side, all with pads of paper and pencils out. “Mr. McCabe? Are you William McCabe?” they asked.

He glimpsed the top of Cora’s head and redoubled his efforts as she neared the mansion. He had to see her, speak with her. It had only been a dance! Just a dance!

Or had it? Will swallowed hard at that thought humming within him like a giant bell resonating for a time even after being rung. “Cora! Cor—”

Two men grabbed hold of his arms and rammed him against a wall beside the door. “No, no,” said one. “
La signorina gradirebbe stare da sola.”
The lady would like to be alone.

He tried to shake them off, infuriated, but they were strong. Guards, he figured after a second—the newspaperman’s guards. “You don’t understand,” he said in Italian, trying to wrench even one arm loose. “I’m William McCabe. I’m Cora’s…” What, exactly? Her beau? Her almost-fiancé? Her guide?

The reporters, six of them, all had pens out, hovering over their pads, waiting for him to finish his sentence. Will looked around in confusion. “Fine, fine!” Will said, pretending to give up and walk away. He had to catch up to her, speak to her, explain about Eleonora. But if he didn’t get free, there was no chance.

“What did you want to say to Miss Kensington?” asked Jefferson, edging near.

“What would you say if you had the opportunity?” asked another.

“Have you two parted company?” asked Lexington, his keen eyes sidling over to Eleonora, who was watching from the edge of the patio. He fished a picture out from his jacket pocket and handed it to Will. “Do you have a comment on this?”

Will looked madly about and then finally to the picture in his hands.

It was a drawing of Pierre and Cora. In a garden. Looking like lovers.

“Where did you get this?” he sputtered, rage surging through him.

Lexington shrugged. “I have my sources.”

“When was this made? Who drew it?”

“I was wondering if you would tell me,” he said, grabbing it back before Will could crush it in his hand.

Will reached for the man’s jacket lapels, but Antonio was there, grabbing his arms, pulling him back. “Mr. McCabe has no comment. Go, go,” he said, turning to stand between them, making a shooing gesture. “Leave him be. This is a private party, not a press conference.”

Guests in fine dress stared at him as they passed by, whispering to their friends.

Will considered an attempt at running around the mansion, intercepting Cora before she got to the motorcar. But the guards would likely tackle him to the ground, and that would only provide more humiliating fodder for the journalists.

Will let out a sigh of frustration and shook his head. The orchestra had resumed their playing, and Eleonora was soon asked to dance by a tall, thin fellow about their age. Will and Antonio walked back to the wall and stone balustrade, looking out over the city, which was growing darker by the moment. “What am I doing, Antonio?” Will asked. “What have I done?”

“I’m not certain, my friend.”

“It was only a dance!”

“Was it?” Antonio asked, doubt lacing his tone.

Will winced and shook his head. “Did you see Cora’s face?” he asked, so filled with pain by the memory that it made him want to cry like a boy.

Antonio leaned his hip against the balustrade and crossed his arms. “You must be careful with Eleonora. Her heart is…tender. And I fear she has feelings for you.”

“I know.” He slammed his fist in his other palm. “I didn’t…until tonight. And then…when I saw Cora with Pierre.” He looked up to the staircase again, then scanned the party guests, seeing Pierre nowhere. Will had the distinct feeling that things were playing out exactly as Pierre wanted. He put his hands on his head. “I’m such a fool.”

“You’re a man,” Antonio said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “When it comes to women, we’re all fools.”

CHAPTER 24

~Cora~

“I simply do not see why we all must go, all because Cora glimpsed her beau flirting with another woman!” Andrew said, pacing beside the motorcar. He wanted to stay at the party, but Vivian was insisting they return with me. Andrew looked at me as I got in the motorcar, but I ignored him. There was nothing I wanted more than to be away from them and their bickering. Felix got in after me.

“Flee if you must, Cora,” Andrew said. “But do you honestly need us as your nursemaids?”

“Andrew, stop it! This instant!” Viv said.

I slid into the far corner of the backseat, knowing I had to leave. Immediately. I could barely concentrate on Andrew’s nastiness, because over and over, all I could think about was how Will had stared down at Eleonora, in such wonder…such admiration.

The way he had looked at me.

And then there was Pierre. Smooth. Graceful. Wooing me in every way he could without overtly wooing me.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat when Felix patted my hand. “You don’t know the full story, Cora,” he said. “Men are men. A beautiful woman catches a man’s eye. But that Will only has one woman in his heart. You.”

I nodded quickly, wanting him to be quiet—to cease talking about it.

“This is asinine. We’re staying,” Andrew said, outside the car. “I’m done letting Cora dictate our schedule from morning until night.” He leaned down and looked through the doorway at Felix. “You take her home if you must. Then send the car back for us in a couple hours, will you?”

“Sure,” Felix said.

“You may stay, but I’m going,” Vivian said, moving to enter the car.

“No, you’re not,” Andrew said, grabbing hold of her arm and forcing her to stand straight again. Felix and I shared a worried glance.

“Let go of me, Andrew.”

“It is unseemly,” he hissed. “Don’t you know that all those reporters will turn their attention to us? And why
we’re
suddenly apart?”

“Then come back to the apartment with me,” she tried. “It’s been a long day.”

“Stop it! Stop arguing, and just do as I say.” He shook her, and Vivian let out a little yelp.

“Stop!” I cried even as Felix moved toward the car door. I glanced through the small window behind us and saw Jackson and Lexington acting as if they were casually smoking cigarette, when I knew they were cataloguing every moment of this exchange. A part of me ached that Will wasn’t running after me, but a part of me was relieved that the reporters wouldn’t witness that private moment too. “Andrew, even now we are not alone,” I said, peering up and out the open doorway of the motorcar. Felix was now standing beside the two of them.

We could all see Andrew shaking with anger. The veins in his neck pulsed. “Fine,” he said, taking Vivian’s arm and practically shoving her into the car seat across from me.

“Morgan!” Felix growled, grabbing hold of the man’s arm. But Andrew was much bigger than Felix and easily threw him off. “There is no call for such treatment of my sister!” Felix insisted, doggedly stepping forward again.

“Your sisters—
all
of them, apparently—need to understand what it means to respect a man.”

“And you need to understand what it means to respect my sisters,” Felix said, pressing his chest against Andrew’s. He was a foot shorter than Andrew, but he was scrappy. “Until you do, you can find another place to stay.”

Andrew scoffed. “You’re throwing me out? I would imagine my father would take issue with that.”

“Then you don’t realize what a dolt you’re being,” Felix said. “Find another place to stay tonight,” he repeated, sliding into the car. The driver, obviously frightened beyond measure, tried to shut it after him, but Andrew caught it. Slowly, he leaned down, and I half expected him to yank Felix back out. “We shall resolve this tomorrow, after I spend the night elsewhere. If that is what Vivian wants.”

“It’s what I prefer,” Vivian spit out. “Now let us go!”

Andrew straightened and slammed the door, making us all jump. The driver scurried around the car and entered the front; then, as the engine roared, we set off.

Viv looked as pale and as apt to cry as I did, but she rubbed her arm as if it pained her. We drove down the winding road, through several neighborhoods, before hitting a thoroughfare that would take us back to the heart of the city. I couldn’t wait to get back. To put distance between us and all the confusion we’d left behind.

“Viv, he’s manhandled you for the last time,” Felix said, leaning forward, elbows on knees.

She looked to the side, out the window, one hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide and glassy. “He simply gets so overwrought…” she muttered.

“No, it isn’t right,” Felix said, flinging himself back against the seat. “No more excuses for him.”

“He has no right,” I said. “If he treats you like this now—”

“Please,” she said, lifting a hand up and turning sad eyes on me. “Please. Haven’t you…we…all had enough heartache for one night?”

I swallowed hard and leaned back, biting my tongue.

We drove the rest of the way in silence, our combined weariness and sorrow almost too much to bear. I thought about our neighbors the Stuggarts, back in Dunnigan. Mr. Stuggart had been given to too much drink, and on more than one Sunday, Mrs. Stuggart had arrived at church with bruises on her face that she explained away as falls or other mishaps but that my parents clearly took as abuse.

“Not a man on the face of the earth should treat a woman in such a way,” Papa had said. Remembering his face, filled with sorrow and anger at once, made me long for him. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and hold me, counsel me, comfort me. But he was so far away, and my father, here in Rome, was now in a casket.

I thought about the church in Siena, drawing comfort, warmth from the memory. About resting in my identity as God’s own child, regardless of who claimed me here on earth. My folks. My father. Will. Pierre. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly chilled, and wondered what it would be like to climb up into God’s lap, feel Him wrap His arms around me. The thought gave me a sweet bit of comfort, and I smiled as we pulled up in front of our building and the driver exited to come around and open our door.

Felix offered one arm to Vivian and the other to me. We entered the building and climbed the stairs, each separating to our own rooms. I said my good nights and slipped into my room, ringing immediately for Anna, so thankful to be with her again. She took one look at my face and said, “A hot bath would do you wonders,” and set one to running without even waiting for my assent. I sank down on the dressing table bench and pulled off my dangling jet earrings—borrowed from Viv—then the black feathers and pins from my hair.

Anna returned and brushed out my hair. “Was it as bad as all that?”

“William and I…had another falling out.”

“Oh,” she said, waiting for me to go on. She unbuttoned the back of my gown and then rested her small hands on my shoulders, meeting my sad gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

“I saw Will dancing with Eleonora Masoni.”

She frowned a little. “Are you not friends with the woman? Is it as odd as all that?”

“Their friendship is not odd,” I said, my voice flat. “But they weren’t dancing as friends.”

“Oh,” she said again. She bit her lip and looked to the window, then back to me.

A mostly full moon had risen, casting quite a bit of light into the room, so I turned off the electric lamp, which felt glaringly bright, and then felt my way to the tub and slipped into the water. When my skin was used to the heat, I slipped all the way under, allowing the water to cover my face and do its healing work against the tension that seemed to cramp every bit of my body.

Needing air, I rose and took a breath, then sank beneath again, liking how the sounds of my fingernails against the porcelain sounded bright and yet distant. I thought about all the places I’d been with Will over the summer that included water. Canoeing on the Montana lake. Wading in the Mediterranean. Walking beside the canals in Venice. Swimming in the Aegean. Sheltering behind the hot springs waterfall…

I rose, gasping for air.

How could he? How could he look at another after we had shared those moments?

I rubbed my face and took a cloth from one edge and a bar of soap from the other, knowing I had probably wiped my makeup into a broad smear. I set to sudsing my cloth, then rubbing clean every inch of my face, considering my disappointment, my fear, my fury.

How would
he
have reacted if he’d entered the party and seen me dancing with another? Looking at him like…like…

Like I had looked at Pierre countless times.

The thought brought me up short. Hadn’t Will suffered moment after moment of strife, watching me with Pierre? When he longed to be with me himself? And then tonight…had he seen me talking with Pierre? Before he asked Eleonora to dance?

But all those shared moments with Pierre had been
before
. That was different. We hadn’t made any promises to each other. Now… I thought of turning down his marriage proposal. I hadn’t turned him down…exactly. That was different.