Grave Consequences (Grand Tour Series #2) (42 page)

I stared into his eyes and saw the earnest hope within them. The concern that this would be a final dividing line between us. I knew God wanted something different for me than a man who would only be nominally interested in matters of faith. I knew I wanted something different from a man with whom I’d share a life…. Could that be awakened within him? Or was this yet another point of caution?

I hurried ahead of him, across the old wooden walkways the priests and mosaic artists presumably used to light the old chandeliers and tend to the elaborate ceilings. As I turned the corner, I looked down to the church floor, my eyes studying thirteenth-century stones in the image of beautiful flowers and peacocks and urns and geometric patterns. A man caught my eye as I passed a massive column, and I looked back.

I froze.

The man from Paris, from Nîmes, from Vienna. Here. In this church. Staring up at Lillian and Nell.

“You!” I yelled, the word reverberating around the hushed, cavernous sanctuary.

“Cora?” Pierre asked, turning to look where I did as he passed by the column.

But the man was on the move, hidden now from his view.

“Pierre,” I cried, hurriedly turning him around and pushing him toward the stairwell. “It’s him, Pierre. The kidnapper.” We got to the other side of the column and leaned over the railing, just glimpsing the man as he rushed out the front door.

“Remain here,” he said, “with the girls.” He broke into a run, bumping past an elderly man and dodging two women as he gestured frantically to the detectives and guards.

I went to the girls, took both by the hand, and pulled them into the biggest room, which was milling with people. No one would dare grab them here, now.

“Cora?” Nell asked.

“Cora, what is it?” Lil said.

“Nothing, nothing,” I said, pasting on a smile. “I only wanted to be certain you saw the diorama here of the basilica. Is it not amazing? The detail?”

“Yes,” Nell said. “But why so excited about it in miniature when we’re in the actual, grand building?” she asked, gesturing around us.

“I’m just amazed at the detail,” I said, walking around to the other side. “Look at how they’ve formed the columns!”

“Cora,” Lil said, hands on her hips. “What has gotten into you? And where are the others?” she asked, looking around.

“All right,” I said, giving up, leaning in closer toward them. “Here’s the truth of it. Remember the man who attacked us in Paris, and me in Nîmes? The one who was in charge? I saw him in Vienna. We didn’t want to alarm you. But I just saw him here, below us.”

Nell gasped and put her gloved hand in front of her rosebud lips, while Lil’s eyes rounded in alarm.

“Rest assured, our men are in pursuit of him as we speak. Perhaps even now, they’ve corralled him at last and our shadow will cease to follow us, haunt us.” I scanned the crowd, and my eyes rested with some relief on one burly guard looking about, an expression of pure consternation on his face as he spoke to Mr. Morgan and my father. At least they
all
hadn’t disappeared.

“Why would he be
here
?” Nell whispered. “Did he think he could get one of us in this crowded place?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But we’re staying here until Pierre or Antonio comes for us.”

But just as I said that, the large tour group returned downstairs, leaving us almost alone. I looked around in alarm. Even the big guard and our fathers were no longer in view. Had they given chase too? Vivian and Andrew, Hugh and Felix had to be halfway around the church by now, exploring the narrow tunnels that intersected the entire upper floor, too far away to hear our call. I left the girls behind me and went to the stairwell, hoping I’d see Pierre coming.

What I saw instead stopped my heart.

Our attacker. With another man behind him.

I backed up and closed the door, sliding the bolt across. A priest ten feet away started shouting at me in Italian, but I ignored him, scurrying over to the girls. “Go!” I cried. “Run! They’re coming!”

We lifted our skirts and ran down the tunnel, then across a narrow wooden bridge that took us around the edge and toward the very back of the basilica. I kept looking for places to hide, other avenues of escape, but saw nothing. Our best chance was to find the others—or another large group.

I glanced over my shoulder as we turned a corner and gasped…the men were still after us. And gaining. “Go, Nell, go!” I said as the girl slowed, panting. Where were those other guards? Had they joined Pierre in the chase somewhere outside? Had the man slipped away and doubled back without them recognizing it? I turned and slammed a flimsy wooden door shut, latching it with a rotten crossbeam, knowing it’d take our pursuers less than a minute to get through it.

Visions of them in Paris, coming through the door with an axe, ran through my head as I urged the girls forward. The next passageway stretched ahead of us, dark and eerie, as I heard the splintering of wood behind me. “Go, Lil!” I cried, my hands on Nell’s shoulders. We ran into the darkness, praying it would lead us to an escape, but then I saw Lillian pulled to the right and Nell to the left, their cries quickly muffled just as rough hands took hold of me, too. I writhed and fought my attacker, until I made out his voice.

It was Pierre. Pierre! I immediately stilled, and he turned me in his arms, hugging me to his chest, even as he shielded me from anyone coming down the passageway. They’d done it. Used us as the bait in an attempt to trap the snakes. As I’d agreed. Pierre held me close, stroking my back, and I recognized that he smelled of soap and something warm, like cedar. I tried to take a step back, but he kept me close, still. As a precaution? Or because he enjoyed the excuse?

The girls and I were trying to be quiet and listen with Pierre, Antonio, and Nario, but we were panting so hard I could hear nothing but my own breath and the rush of blood in my ears. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw that another guard was with them. I hoped we’d drawn the men into our trap. That the kidnappers would come after us, right where our men could catch them. Once and for all.

But no one came. I wanted to cry with disappointment as Pierre lifted my chin, finger to his lips, and then walked down the passageway with Antonio right behind him, perhaps wondering if our pursuers had gotten sidetracked, even lost. Or had they sensed danger and turned tail to run?

I wanted it over. I didn’t want to live my life always looking over my shoulder, afraid, even if it was the girls he was after, not me. I loved them, I thought with a start, looking over at them and then welcoming them into my arms like frightened little chicks.
I really love them. Not just my sister, but Nell, too.
And the thought of it made me angry, fierce, like a mother bear whose cubs had been threatened.

CHAPTER THIRTY

~Cora~

Given the traumatic experiences of our day, Pierre did not press his request to take us to the trattoria that eve. Instead, we sat with the others after a somber supper at the palazzo as my father paced before a raging fire in the palazzo fireplace, raging himself. “We were to lose them in deviating from the planned itinerary! How the devil did they find us? I will not have this go on and on. We need to find these men and make sure they are imprisoned before our children are endangered any further!”

Pierre took my hand, obviously wishing to bring me comfort, and I allowed it. We had slipped away to Venezia with no one knowing where we were to go. Our previous itinerary had dictated stops in Milano, Torino. How had they found us? Unless it was impossible to slip from their vision, escape them…unless they’d always had eyes upon us, every step of the way. I shivered, and Pierre looked at me with concerned eyes, resting his other hand atop mine. “I still believe it is wise to force them to ground, sir,” he said to my father. “Once and for all. You and yours cannot live in fear that at any moment they might be attacked. People like this need to be shown that you are the lion and they the prey, not vice versa.”

“I am coming to believe that that will be our lot,” Wallace said gravely. “To be prey, never safe.” He nodded to the men who ringed us. “We are too well known, particularly since the release of those photos in that cursed magazine.”

I winced, knowing that accusation was tossed in my direction. I burned within. Hadn’t I intuited that Art had had less-than-honorable intent? Or was Wallace merely blaming me for embarrassing him, compromising the family name, being the source of that which sent us on the run? I let out a scoffing laugh beneath my breath.
If you hadn’t had an affair…if you hadn’t come to claim me in Dunnigan…

His head jerked up, and he stared hard at me, almost as if he’d heard my thoughts. For a moment, I wondered if I’d spoken them aloud. But then he was conversing with Morgan in a whisper, conspiring over yet another plan. But my own words echoed through my head. What
would
have happened had he not come to claim me? We would’ve likely lost the farm. My papa would have likely died. My mama might have never seen her parents again. I would not have had the means to return to Normal School. And I wouldn’t have known my siblings. My friends. William. Even Pierre. I wouldn’t have lived a life I knew, deep down
knew
, I was meant to live.

Wait…and trust
, God had urged me. I’d gotten this far, hadn’t I?

Slowly, I stood up. “I have worked from sunup to sundown, fighting weeds on the plains in order to coax wheat to life. I have helped a mare birth twin foals. I’ve dug through ten feet of snow in order to fetch wood to see us through the night. The strength within my blood is a strength we all share, and I, for one, will not back down from men such as these.”

My guards, my family, the Morgans, and Pierre stared at me with a mixture of horror and respect.

“We should do as we did before,” I said. “Go about our lives. And when these men make their move, we shall be ready for them. Are we not well guarded?”

Antonio arrived in the doorway, looking red-faced from the stairs as well as chagrined. He tossed a magazine and newspaper to the side table. “It’s out, if they bother to check the newsstand and can read Italian. About Cora’s holdings in Dunnigan. Her own wealth. ‘Dirt Farmer’s Daughter Strikes Gold…and Copper’ is how the headlines read.”

All eyes moved to me as my heart sank. Because with words like that out there, I suddenly wanted a whole army around me.

Fortunately, I felt better in time. So when Pierre sent word, asking for me to meet him downstairs, I obliged. His eyes lit up as I entered the room, and he came to me, taking my hands in his and kissing both my cheeks. His eyes went to Anna, who took a seat in the corner of the room and pretended to lift a book to read, giving us some semblance of privacy, then he looked back to me. “Please, mon amie, sit with me for a moment?”

“Of course.”

He sat down beside me, inches away, so close that our knees touched as he turned toward me. “Are you well? I worried for you…knowing now that this man is in Venezia and may double his efforts to come after you. Cherie, know I will stay close to you. I will not allow you out of my sight for one—”

I stood abruptly and rubbed my hands together. “No,” I said. “That is not necessary.”

His face fell into a frown. Perhaps he’d hoped this new threat would help me decide, even push me into his arms. “I…I must know…would you prefer for me to leave? Perhaps I should give you some time to ponder. To consider…us. Perhaps it was wrong of me to hope that if we had but a few weeks alone, you would see me as a viable beau.”

“Oh, Pierre,” I said with a weary sigh, sitting down again and taking his hand. Half of me didn’t want him to go; half of me did. But if he did…would Wallace truly punish me? My parents? Will? And yet…it was not at all fair to Pierre to lead him on. “I’ve always considered you more than viable. You are as Art dubbed you—a Parisian Prince. But Pierre, you have to know…this…” I waved back and forth between us. “This is still more my father’s doing than me following my heart.”

He listened to me intently and then lifted a gentle hand to my face, stroking my cheek with his index knuckle. “But it may soon become your own heart’s desire, yes? If I wait? If I remain patient?” He smiled, but there was hurt in his eyes. Because I could not give him an honest chance. Because my heart was still tied to Will’s.

“Forgive me, Pierre, for bringing you pain,” I said. “It’s the last thing I wished to do.”

He lifted my hand to his lips. “If it takes pain to hear you say my name in such a tender way, bring forth the whip,” he said, kissing my bare knuckles. His lips lingered there, kissing my hand again and again, watching me as shivers ran up my arm and neck. I wondered if Anna was watching. If she was aghast at my forward, fickle nature.

I pulled my hand from his, regretting my weakness, my fear, my eagerness to assuage his angst by simply ending it. Even if I sent him away, would Will and I ever have a real chance? Given the barriers my father had created? And if not, would I regret it, in time? Was this part of why God wanted me to wait, rest? To not rush into anything, even a decision? Pierre was so earnest, so dear.… “You confuse me,” I whispered at last.