Grave Consequences (Grand Tour Series #2) (9 page)

Will stayed where he was, his head pounding with one thought.

I just made the biggest mistake of my life.

~Cora~

I was mortified. What did I think I was doing? What must he think of me, behaving in such a wanton manner? When he’d carried me to my room, I had been so certain there was something more in his eyes. Something I’d glimpsed before, recognized. And he seemed so intrigued by my touch…I thought he needed only a bit of encouragement to express his intentions.

What an imbecile I’ve been.

I’d been horribly forward. Enticed him, when he meant only to stick to his uncle’s rules. Clearly, I’d imagined far too much—the stolen glances, the moments when we connected. Even if he was attracted to me, he didn’t intend to act on it.
And well he shouldn’t, Cora. What are you doing to the poor man?

He was the bear’s apprentice, my guardian. My protector. The drama and danger had encouraged our intimate connections. Nothing more.
Nothing more…

A knock sounded at my door. “Mademoiselle? A package for you.”

I opened it, wondering how long it would take for the dull thud in my head to quit pounding, obviously the repercussions of my clumsy jump last night. Or was it now from my awkward, embarrassing moment with Will?

A maid offered me two boxes tied with ribbons.

“Merci,” I said, closing the door after her and taking them to my bed. I slid the ribbon off the first box and opened it. Above the tissue wrapping was a card with a bold PDR monogram on top. Pierre. Lord of the sprawling estate outside Paris. Politician. Businessman. And in some odd, star-crossed manner, my potential beau. Presumably, all I had to do was accept his pursuit and he would court me in earnest. But truly, how was that ever to work out? A Montana farm girl and a Parisian nobleman? The idea of it was preposterous. And yet, here it was….

Tentatively, I opened the card, feeling doubly embarrassed now. It was as if he knew, had seen me with Will moments ago, even from miles away.

Mon ange, I miss you terribly. I still hope to reach you before you depart Provence. A mere evening together would assuage my heart’s need to be with you. In the meantime, I send you this as a token of my affection. ~Pierre

With a sigh, I reached for the tissue and then gasped as my fingertips met the smoothest, richest silk I’d ever touched, in a lovely caramel color. Anna knocked and peeked in before I spoke, carrying a small breakfast tray. “Miss? May I be of service to you?”

“Please,” I said, since I was still in my robe, my wet hair down around my shoulders. I pulled out the jacket. With an overlay of exquisite lace and beads, it was lightweight, perfect for a day of touring in the hot Provençal weather, but also elegant enough to see me through many daytime occasions with nobles.

“Oh, my,” Anna said, as she finished pouring my tea. “Isn’t that lovely?”

“Indeed,” I said. I pulled out a matching skirt and a delicate lace dickey to go underneath the jacket. “But is it proper, receiving clothing from a gentleman?”

She smiled. “As long as it is clothing such as that, I see nothin’ wrong with it. Quick, open the other box.”

Obediently, I did as she asked, untying the ribbon on what clearly was a wide hatbox. “Oh!” I gasped, bringing my fingertips to my lips. It was the exact shade of caramel as the new suit. Around the top was lace to match my jacket. I pulled it out and put it on, moving to the full-length mirror. “My goodness. Have you seen anything so glamorous since we left Paris?”

“Hardly, miss,” Anna said, peering at me from over my shoulder. “You must wear it today. It’s perfect for our trip up the Canal du Midi to Carcassonne.”

“Really? You don’t think it’s too much?”

“
Pshht
. Not at all. I’ll just go and give your skirt and jacket a quick press while you eat a little something and drink your tea. But we have to be quick about it. The minutes are ticking away, and we’re soon to be off.”

“All right, then,” I said, drawing hope from her bustling optimism. But as she disappeared behind me and I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I knew my glee wasn’t entirely for the right reasons. To be certain, the clothing was grand. Pierre’s gesture, beyond sweet. But what brought me ultimate satisfaction was the thought of Will finding out who had given it to me.

I stared at my blue eyes in the mirror. “Being vindictive is not becoming, Cora Diehl Kensington,” I whispered. “Not becoming at all.”

The youngest girls were saying good-bye to our hosts as I entered the hall, and most of the others were already outside in the touring cars, their trunks loaded and engines rumbling.

“Ahh, Mademoiselle Kensington,
enchanté
. We shall miss your fine company,” Adrien said, bowing over my gloved hand and kissing it. “I heard you made the leap this morning. I only regret that I languished in bed and missed it.”

“Forgive me, my friend, for rising so early,” I said with a smile. “I shall remember that leap forever.”
In more ways than one.
I pushed away the memory of Will’s wet hair and dripping face, his warm breath on my lips.…

I moved to kiss Celine on both cheeks. “Your hospitality, too, will always be a sweet memory for me.”

“Come again, mademoiselle,” she said, “and next time in the company of my brother. I know he longed to be here with you.”

I smiled and looked to the floor, then back to her kind eyes. “He sent me word that he hopes to yet rendezvous with us in Provence. I do hope
our
paths cross again.”

“I would like that very much,” she said, smiling, and I knew that she was sincere, in the cautious way of a sister guarding their brother’s heart.

“Au revoir,” they called. I exited, past a line of servants, who nodded and smiled, and noticed Arthur getting into the motorcar ahead of us. Had he officially joined our traveling party?

Will stood beside the small back door of the last vehicle. I immediately regretted my dawdling and my fanciful decision to wear the new clothes…. Now I’d have to sit with him.

I barely took his hand as I picked up my skirts and entered the car, facing Andrew and Vivian. “Good morning,” I said to my half sister and her intended, and they greeted me in kind.

“My goodness, Cora, when did you get that new suit and hat?” Vivian said. “It’s lovely.” She leaned forward to touch my skirt, admiring the silk.

Will entered and shut the door, and our motorcade drove off.

“It was a gift,” I said, hoping to leave it at that.

“From Father?”

“From…another.” Who was I fooling? There was only one man, other than Wallace Kensington, who would send me such finery. I tried not to enjoy the realization that Will’s shoulder stiffened when I said it. And I berated myself for my lack of charity and grace. Regardless of his reasons for turning away from me, it was his right, yes? And who was I to demand his attentions when I had already caught the eye of Pierre de Richelieu? Who was I to mess with any man’s affections at all?

All I wanted was to return to Montana after this adventure, to resume my simple life, my simple aspirations to teach, unencumbered by a relationship with any man—my father, Will, or Pierre. They would only seek to pull me into their world, not enter mine.
Honestly, get ahold of yourself, Cora. Remember who you are. Or you’ll turn into someone you’d never choose to befriend.

We drove down the long lane of the chateau and onto a larger road. Viv’s keen eyes went from me to Will to me again, clearly picking up on the tension between us, while Andrew asked Will some question I didn’t bother to listen to. Mercifully, over the next hour, Vivian didn’t force me to an idle conversation of our own. I continued to look out the window, pretending to be absorbed by the landscape, which was growing more green and lush as we approached the sea, where the soil wasn’t claimed by wheat and sunflowers rather than olive trees and vineyards.

Will entertained Vivian and Andrew with tales of the Provençal artists, past and present, who had favored this part of the country—Matisse and van Gogh, Cézanne and Renoir. But all I could think about was him gathering me in his arms so tenderly last night, that moment inside the gate this morning, and the other times we’d shared…on the boat crossing the Channel, on the
Olympic
, and before that, in Montana.

And although I kept my eyes scrupulously on the passing landscape, my heart kept whispering,
It’s not just your imagination.

CHAPTER FIVE

~Cora~

After a train ride along the rocky beaches and blue-green waters of the Golfe du Lion, past sleepy, sun-drenched beachside towns filled with fishermen just arriving from their morning toil, we finally reached the canal. I’d managed to appear as if I were napping for most of the two-hour train ride, and the others had left me alone. Such an escape would be far more difficult on the river barge. Still, I moved to the end of the long, flat boat, hoping to find some private alcove in which I could settle.

But there was no escape. There was but one seating area, and clearly, we were all expected to gather together for the bear’s lecture on history, canal construction, and the area’s architecture. We left the canal landing and set off at a leisurely pace, drifting past quiet villages and under the sweeping branches of huge trees planted decades before. It was idyllic, really. Something I’d normally enjoy. So I tried to settle in and pay attention to the old bear—and
only
to him—for a while.

“The canal was a wonder of its time,” said the old man, waving his cane toward the water. “Indeed, it inspired many other similar constructs, including the shorter Suez Canal in Egypt and the soon-to-be-completed Panama Canal in the Americas. This canal took far less expense and political maneuvering, even though it was completed a century or more before those two.”

It was most intriguing, this idea of cutting a waterway through the land in order to avoid circumventing hostile Spain—as well as Barbary pirates, back in the day. But I was continually distracted, sensing Will’s gaze. And was it my imagination, or did Arthur point his camera toward me more than he did the others? “When did Art become a part of our tour?” I whispered to Lil.

“When he said he’d arrange lodging for us in Carcassonne,” she whispered back.

Ahh
, I thought. So that was it. The bear would tolerate his company as long as he was useful, introducing us to society as we traveled. How long could that hold out for an American?
Hopefully not long
, I thought, recognizing my own surly demeanor, but I was confused, overwhelmed, and I couldn’t seem to dispatch my terrible headache.…

I imagined that Will wondered what had come over me, that my forward nature allowed me to flirt with him while Pierre yet pursued courtship.
You are awful, Cora Diehl Kensington. Not behaving at all as your mama and papa raised you.

Wanton, wily, wicked…

I abruptly rose, and the bear paused in his lecture, looking at me with consternation.

“Forgive me, but I am not feeling at all well. I think I might go to the bow for a bit more fresh air.” I was moving away before I thought how foolish that statement was. We moved at a slow pace, and the entire deck was awash with a cooling breeze.

The bear nodded as I passed him, and he continued his monotonous lecture. Will was a far livelier teacher, but I would not have been able to tolerate a single minute of listening to him. I prayed that he would not follow me now.

The old captain of the barge watched me as I squeezed past, along the narrow walkway and out onto a tiny deck at the bow. I gestured to a metal crate—presumably filled with life vests or equipment for the river boat—and he gave me a pert nod, as if to say,
Sit anywhere, you fool. Just get out of my line of vision. And that includes that enormous hat.

I sat down, feeling the heat of the metal seep through my skirts as well as the heat beating down on me from the sun. I was glad for the shelter of my wide hat. If I were to put a parasol above me, the captain would surely toss me overboard. I had just settled in to the sound of the water, the rhythmic chug of the steam engine, the feel of the breeze on my face, when a girl’s voice interrupted me.