Grave Consequences (Grand Tour Series #2) (32 page)

Did that leave me as a woman without a country? A people? Would this journey leave me lost rather than found? My eyes went back to the servants and rested on one driver. He leaned against his motorcar, hat drawn low, even as he looked up to the mansion, toward me. His head never moved, but there was something oddly familiar about him—about his stance, cavalier, relaxed. I glanced down, making sure I wasn’t visible, and then backed away from the window, realizing that with the lamp behind me, my silhouette would be clear, if nothing else.

Stupid, silly twit
, I berated myself, moving to the lamp and bringing the room into utter darkness. It was so dark, there was more light from outside than in the room itself now. Tentatively, I moved back to peek out to the courtyard again. The man was still there, staring up at my room. I was sure of it. My heart began to pound when I realized from where I knew him.

The man from Paris. And Nîmes.

The ringleader. The one who had tried to kidnap me twice.

I couldn’t be certain—with the hat, the relative darkness—and yet I was. My mouth dropped open, and I froze, waiting for him to move. Another driver walked up, had a few words with him, and he shoved off, casually strolling away. So it hadn’t been his motorcar. That had only been the means to stop and find my room, wait for a glimpse of me…or my sisters. He took ten paces, then turned, gave me a casual salute—as if he could see me, as if he knew I was there—and continued his relaxed walk out of the courtyard.

My hand went to my throat. He was here. He’d followed us. Was he insane? There’d be no way he could get to us, with Will, Antonio, and the detectives keeping watch. And now my father and Mr. Morgan…
That’s it.
He’d been waiting for the right moment to edge near again. Somehow…for some reason, our fathers’ arrival had pushed him to it. The question was, why? A more expedient track to payday, if one of us was held for ransom? Or was he so angry with me for foiling his plans twice over that he’d now targeted me?

Back home on the farm, I’d been fairly adept with a rifle, driving off coyotes, the occasional bear. I itched for the weight of my papa’s rifle in my hands, the chance to squeeze off a shot, hitting the ground five feet to the man’s side. I wanted to make him run, make him fear ever coming near me or mine again. But instead, here I was, helpless. Like a lioness caught in a zoo cage, close to her prey and yet hopelessly separated. I went over to the desk and took hold of the sharp, pearl-handled letter opener, and then went back to the window.

The man was gone. Quickly, I strode to the lever by my door that would ring the bell for Anna. Will and the others had to know what I’d seen. She came a minute later, her hair hastily tucked into a nightcap. “Miss?”

“Fetch William, will you, Anna?”

“What is it, miss?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Trouble,” I said.

~William~

He ran to her room, and when he saw her, pacing, ashen, hands trembling, he longed to take her in his arms. But he couldn’t. Not with Anna there. Instead, he kept a respectful distance. He folded his arms and bent his head toward hers, seeking her blue eyes, which were wild with fear. “Cora. What is it?”

“He’s here, Will. The man from Paris. The one who tried to kidnap me after the bullfight.”

“What? Are you certain? Where?”

“I saw him from the window just a bit ago. He was outside in the courtyard, watching.”

He went to the window, searching the grounds. There were about twenty motorcars and three horse-drawn carriages outside. And many men. He scanned each one, then looked to her. “Are you certain?” he asked again. “It’s rather dark out there….”

“He had a hat on and was pretending to be a waiting driver. It was
him
, Will,” she said.

She seemed sure, but he had to know before he raised the alarm. “And you hadn’t fallen asleep? Perhaps dreamed it?”

“William, I have yet to go to bed!”

He raised his hands, palms to her. “All right. I understand. I just had to be sure.” He paced back and forth, running his fingers through his hair, rubbing his face, thinking. “He wouldn’t dare make a move on us again,” he said, mostly to himself. “Not with our added protection.” He stopped and looked at Cora and Anna. “But I’ll make certain there are more men on watch tonight, all night. Don’t worry. Every one of you will be under guard.”

Cora had her arms folded as if cold and gave him a quick nod. “Thank you.”

“Of course. And…I’ll have to tell your father.”

She nodded again, more slowly this time, then heaved a sigh. “He’ll triple our guard. Or put us on the first train and ship home.”

He gave her a hopeless look. They’d done what they could to get this far. Perhaps this would be an answer to prayer, in a way. The means to get Cora out of Pierre’s clutches and back home, where he might have a chance to see her…as long as this fellow didn’t trail her all the way to the States and try and nab her there. He bit his lip, anxious at the thought. Surely he wouldn’t go as far as that. And surely Mr. Kensington wouldn’t leave Cora without a guard of some sort.…

“Do you feel comfortable seeing yourself back to your quarters?” he said to Anna.

“Of course. It’s not me they’re after,” she quipped.

“No!” Cora said, wringing her hands. “Anna…would you stay with me tonight? Here? There’s plenty of room in that big bed.…”

Anna paused a moment, clearly taken aback by such a request from a lady. “By all means, miss.”

Will went to the door and looked over his shoulder at them. “I’ll return if I learn anything. Otherwise, try and get some sleep, and know you will be safe.”

“Thank you, Will,” Cora said, coming over to him. After watching her all evening with Pierre, he didn’t know if he could tolerate her proximity. Not when he couldn’t take her in his arms. He had to physically make himself turn the knob and slip partway out rather than touch her.

“Lock the door behind me, Cora,” he said. He just wanted to be certain.

She nodded, and he left, striding directly down the hall, urgency tightening his every muscle. Yves was already on watch at the end of the hall. Fortunately their clients were all in one massive wing, all doors visible. After he made certain that all were safely in their rooms for the night, he’d put Claude on the far end of that same hall. In the wee hours, he and Antonio would relieve them. No one would be slipping past a sleeping guard tonight.

He half ran down the wide staircase and out the garden doors. The party seemed to have picked up steam rather than waned, and for several anxious moments, he could not find any of the men.

Hugh was on the dance floor, a pretty young woman in his arms. Will tried to catch his eyes as he turned her. Will gestured for Hugh to join him as soon as the song was done, and with one eyebrow cocked, Hugh gestured his assent. Will moved on to find Felix. He was laughing with Arthur and three young women. “Felix, excuse me. May I have a word?”

“Sure, William,” Felix said. He made his apologies and followed him away from the group, and as the song ended, Hugh came over too. Art trailed behind.

“The man from Paris, the one we believe organized the attack on us and tried to kidnap Cora again in Nîmes,” Will said, “Cora thinks she saw him, watching her room from the courtyard.”

“You jest!” Hugh said.

“I’m afraid not.”

“What will it take to dissuade this louse?” Felix said.

“I wish I knew.”

The young men frowned and then quickly looked around, fists clenching.

“I need to find your fathers,” Will said. “And I need you to get to your rooms until we have a plan.”

“They’d never attempt to take us,” Felix said. “Not here. Besides, it will be the women who are in the most danger. And I believe that all but Viv have retired for the night.”

“Or is that what they wish us to think?” Will returned. “Please. Help me find your fathers, and we’ll make a plan together.”

Hugh grabbed his arm. “If our fathers know there continues to be this sort of danger, our tour is through.”

“If there is danger, our tour might end in a far less desirable way. It was one thing when we hoped we could leave them behind in France…another to suspect they’ve followed us all the way here.”

“Why show his face?” Felix asked. “It makes no sense.”

“I don’t know,” Will said.

“I saw Father this way,” Felix said, tossing his head over his shoulder to the right. They followed him through the crowd, and then, when they got close to Mr. Kensington, respectfully waited for the man to finish his conversation, while searching every face in the crowd, many impossible to make out in the darkness.

After a moment, Wallace turned to them, his cane in his hands. “Gentlemen?”

“Mr. Kensington, do you know where we might find Mr. Morgan? We need a word with you both. Immediately.”

Mr. Kensington shot him a look of warning. “Lead the way, McCabe. I hope this is as vital as you’re making it out to be.”

They collected the elder Mr. Morgan, sent Andrew to see Vivian to her room, and then gathered in a small sitting room near the foyer. A cheery fire crackled in the hearth, and Mr. Kensington stood stock still before it, staring at the flames as Will told him—and the others—what he knew. It irked Will that Richelieu had seen them departing and followed them in uninvited. But Will supposed it was best that he be informed too. One more man to keep Cora safe…even
that
man.

Arthur had offered to excuse himself, but Will wanted him there. After all, he knew, better than many of them, exactly what this fellow looked like since he’d rescued Cora in Nîmes.

“Why would he show himself to Cora?” Mr. Kensington asked.

“I don’t know,” Will said.

“Is she his target, then?” Mr. Morgan asked. “Not our youngest children?”

“I don’t know,” Will repeated.

“Could she be hysterical? Imagining things?” Mr. Kensington asked, rubbing his forehead and looking to Richelieu. “After the trauma she endured in Paris…”

“Cora is rather levelheaded, Mr. Kensington,” Will said. “She is not given to undue hysteria, and truly, if that were likely, it would’ve happened before now, I think.”

Mr. Kensington stared at him and then nodded, looking back to the fire. He scratched his beard. “What the devil is he after? It makes no sense to show his face before striking.”

“Perhaps he likes a game of cat and mouse,” Will guessed. “Taunting the mouse before he strikes.”

“No child of mine is a mouse!” Mr. Kensington said lowly.

“Of course not, Mr. Kensington,” Will said. “I only meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Mr. Kensington said with a weary sigh, tossing up a hand of dismissal. “And you’re most likely correct.”

“There are really four choices,” Will said, looking at both fathers as Andrew joined them. “We add more men, a guard for every one of the Kensington and Morgan children, and we carry on with the tour. Or we continue as we have, if you feel that is adequate guard—and we switch up our itinerary—perhaps escaping them. Or we could alert the authorities—”

“Bah,” Mr. Kensington said. “They’d likely accomplish little other than wasting our time and stirring up newspaper fodder.”

“Right. Then there’s the last option,” Will said. “We pack our bags and return to the States, cutting short the tour.”

Mr. Kensington eyed Mr. Morgan, then looked back to Will. “What would your uncle advise?”

Will cocked a brow and crossed his arms. “We’ve never come up against a situation such as this. But I believe he would leave it to the two of you. Only you can make such a decision when there is a clear and present danger to your children.”

Mr. Morgan turned and looked up to Will. “What would you do…if they were your children?”

“Father, I—” Andrew began to protest, but his father shushed him with one hand.

Will considered him. “Mr. Morgan, your children are a target whether they are abroad or home in the States, are they not?” His eyes flicked to Kensington and back to Morgan. “Is it not best to deal with this adversary here and now?”

“You mean…draw him out,” Mr. Kensington said.

Will nodded, an idea taking form in his mind. “Yes. We hire more men. But we hire men really good at keeping to the shadows, blending. Men who will help us keep watch and come to our aid if we are attacked.”

“You speak of laying a trap,” Mr. Kensington said.

“With our children as bait?” Mr. Morgan asked, looking wan.

Will looked each man in the eye and nodded, hands on his hips. “Yes.”

A slow smile spread across Kensington’s face, a measure of respect in his eyes. “I like it. We draw them out and deal with them. Once and for all.”

“You let the world know that no one messes with a Kensington or Morgan and comes out unscathed,” Will said. “The mouse becomes the cat.”

The diminutive Mr. Morgan nodded slowly. “As long as there are a good number of guards, whether visible or hidden, I’d agree.” He raised a finger. “But I am not leaving you until this is dealt with. Even if it means I travel all the way to Rome with you.”

“As will I,” Mr. Kensington said.

Will stifled a groan. How would he keep his feelings so under wraps that even Cora’s father would miss his care for her? “I understand,” he managed to choke out.