Will considered my words. “So what, then? You want out?” He sounded guardedly hopeful.
“No, not out,” I said, rising and going to the window.
He waited where he was, for me to continue, and in my mind, I saw myself in Dunnigan again, and even in Butte. “I want to establish sound goals and fair work agreements. Hire a board of directors that won’t let Andrew run roughshod over those goals. Hire an attorney I trust, to speak on my behalf when I am not in Montana, because I want to be free to leave Montana.”
This made him smile.
“I think,” I said, looking back at him, “Father gave me controlling interest because he thought it would keep me in Montana. Close to him.”
Will nodded and rose. “He was…something. Your father.”
“Indeed.” I gave him a little smile as he wrapped his arms around me again. “He was imperfect, for certain. But in an odd way, I find it heartwarming that he wanted me close to him.”
Will kissed the top of my head. “He was still discovering how smart you are. He would have been both confounded that you managed to find your way out of his plans and yet delighted. Perhaps you were more similar than you imagined.”
At first, his words chafed, but then I smiled. The sun was shining on me and Will through the window, making our reflections dimly visible in the glass. And in that reflection, I studied my face; my lips and cheeks and nose so much like my mother’s, but my eyes…my eyes were my father’s alone. From the start, I’d recognized that unmistakable connection with him, with Felix. The deep blue that ran in the Kensington genes.
Was Will right? Did I take after my father in other ways? I’d spent so much of the summer resisting him, resenting him. But I could see what Will meant. There was a part of me that was surprisingly tenacious, that liked to consider all avenues toward a goal, then pick the best and champion it. I figured that if Father had lived, we would have often argued about which avenue that actually was.
“I think,” I said, and then faltered. “I think that I spent too much time being angry with my father and his attempts to control me that I lost sight of God’s grace in the midst of it all.” I put my good hand over Will’s arms, which were wrapped around my waist. “I wish…I wish I’d spent less time standing against him and more time getting to know what was good about him. Because there was good in him.”
“Some,” he said, a smile in his voice, and I smiled too. “He made it…challenging to concentrate on the good, though.”
I sighed. “Yes. But I think part of that was all the years he spent building one business after another, fighting for them, making him into a hard man. My mother,” I said, dropping my voice to a whisper, “could’ve never fallen for a tyrant.”
Will said nothing for a moment, only held me tight. But I’d needed to say the words. Not to condone the sin, but to recognize the humanity and fallibility we all shared. Even our parents.
“I’m glad your mother found lasting love with Alan,” Will said.
“Sometimes,” I said, turning toward him and looking up, “it takes a woman a little time to see who is best for her. Thank you for waiting for me, Will. For loving me, even when my heart was fickle.”
“You,” he said, leaning down to touch his forehead to mine, “have never had a fickle day in your entire life. Trust me, I know fickle women. And you are not one of them. You were simply…” He lifted his chin and smiled. “Misguided.”
“Ah, yes,” I said, smiling too. “I see.” But thoughts of Pierre made me sober.
“What is it?” Will must’ve seen the change in my face.
“How can I leave, Will? Leave Italy without at least knowing he is alive?”
I could feel Will stiffen. “You wish to see him again?”
“What? No,” I said right away. “Not see him in that manner. Only to make certain he is alive. To put to rest my crazy thoughts about him somehow being tied to our kidnapping in Tivoli…”
Will took a breath and stepped away from me. He cocked his head. “He’d best tell us he had nothing to do with Tivoli, or he won’t be alive for long.”
I laid a gentle hand on his arm. “In any case, we should pray for him.”
“Pray for a man I may very well wish to tear apart limb from limb?”
“Yes, him, most of all, then.”
William
When Cora fell asleep at last that afternoon, exhausted from her ordeal. Will quietly covered her with a throw, then slipped from the room and spoke to Pascal. The man agreed to take up watch right outside her door—and Will set two guards downstairs, outside the palazzo. No one would get in or out without them knowing. “And I don’t want anyone save the Morgans and the Kensingtons to enter while I’m gone. Not even anyone you’ve seen enter this palazzo. Understood?” Will asked.
Pascal nodded once.
Will knew the man didn’t need to be told. But he was taking no further chances. He walked down the stairs and cautiously peered out, afraid he’d be accosted by reporters. But they all seemed to have given up on Cora emerging again today and perhaps had elected to make the most of an afternoon’s siesta, as their favorite source of material had elected to do.
Will made his way down the street, moving quickly, anxious to get back, and then turned left. Another block down, he spied the wire office, and his heart began pounding. Was it there? A response to his query?
Inside, it was dark and quiet, except for the bell that rang as he walked in and shut the door. No one was behind the counter. He grimaced, knowing that the man was probably taking a nap, as was customary, but that he was obligated to remain open because of the nature of his business. “Ciao?” Will called. “Mi scusi, chi è qui?” Hello? Pardon me. Is anyone here?
“Si, si,” grumbled a man from the back. Will could hear the telltale sound of squeaks and rustling, confirming his suspicions.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said to the man in Italian, trying to hide his smile at the man’s hair, which was sticking straight up in back. “But I must know if I’ve received any telegrams in the last week.”
“Name?”
“William McCabe.”
The man turned and began looking through his cabinets, which were set up in alphabetical order. “Signore McCabe,” he muttered, moving to the end.
Will’s neck prickled with anticipation, and then he felt his heart sink as the man began to shake his head. It isn’t here. It hasn’t arrived yet. What—
But then the man perked up. “McCabe!” he said, pointing one finger up in the air as if he’d just thought of something. He went to the corner of his desk and riffed through another file. Then he pulled out the yellow paper.
Will grinned. He’d found it! “I’m so glad,” he said in Italian. “I’ve been waiting weeks on that.”
“Yes, yes,” said the man nonchalantly now that the thrill of the hunt was over. “It came in last week. These,” he said, waving dramatically at the row of cubbyholes, “are all from this week.”
“Ah.” Will gestured to the corner lamp. “May I?”
“Go ahead,” said the man, already sliding on his spectacles and looking at other papers on the counter.
Will swallowed hard and went over to the light. He slid his finger beneath the small seal and opened the telegram and read it. Then he lowered it, grinning like a Cheshire cat at the waning sun that streamed through the window.
Will left the telegraph office, whistling all the way back to Cora.
CHAPTER 36
Cora
I awakened disoriented, the room in deep shadow. “Will?”
“I’m right here,” he said from the winged-back chair in the corner.
“Oh! It’s so dark in here I thought I was alone.”
“I wondered if you might be sleeping through the night,” he said, coming over to sit beside me as I pushed myself up.
“How long did I sleep?”
“Well, let’s see now…” Will made a great show of pulling out his pocket watch, which made me smil
e. It was the one I’d given him—the one that had very nearly broken us apart. It all seemed so long ago. “About three hours,” he said, snapping the lid closed.
“And I have the groggy head to prove it,” I said, blinking, determinedly trying to wake up fully. We had only tonight alone; the others were not due back until late from Pompeii. I didn’t want to miss a minute more of my time with Will.
“Well, let me see you to your room, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, taking my hand, rising, “and ring for Anna to attend you. I’d very much like you to freshen up and join me on the terrace for dinner.”
I smiled, my heart alight at the thought. He’d planned supper while I was asleep? How utterly thoughtful! All summer long, I couldn’t remember a single night that at least some of our group weren’t with us, aside from that lovely few hours in Florence that ended so dismally. I practically skipped up the steps, despite my head being full of cobwebs from the nap.
Will rang for Anna, kissed my hand, and asked me to be ready in an hour. I shut the door as if I had all the time in the world, then hurried to my trunks, looking for the right gown—the pink that I’d worn in Paris. I hadn’t worn it much since. Anna arrived, helped me out of my day coat and skirt and dickey, then pulled the pins from my hair and began brushing it out. I wiped my face with a damp cloth—which did considerable work to awaken me.
“Oh, this arm,” I said, frustrated by my bandages and how every movement still hurt.
“If you’d just sit ladylike and stay put for a while, the arm would heal well enough,” Anna chastised me, still brushing. “But that isn’t your way, is it?”
I met her gaze in my reflection in the mirror. “I never was much of a patient,” I said. “There was never time for such things on the farm. You had to be running a mighty big fever to stay in bed.”
“And breaking an arm isn’t reason enough?” she asked, biting down on some pins, preparing to twist my hair upward.
“Well, clearly, that would have been a wise decision,” I said, feeling the heat of a blush at my jawline. “Had I stayed back, not insisted on going with the rest of them to Tivoli after just getting out of the hospital, I might’ve avoided so much pain…”
Anna put her hands on my shoulders. “I was not chastising you, Miss, about Tivoli. You made your decision with the best of intentions—to remain with your sisters, your brother, your friends. It was evil men who turned it into something terrible.”
I met her eyes, saw her sincerity, and nodded. She resumed pinning. In a minute, she was done, finishing with my pearl comb. “Lovely,” I said, turning my head this way and that.
“Indeed,” she said, cocking a brow.
I rose and followed her to the bed, where she helped me slip on the gown—an awkward, lengthy endeavor, given my arm—and then I bent to slip my feet into the delicate ivory boots that matched. I rose and took in my reflection in the full-length mirror just as Will knocked.
Hurriedly, as Anna went to answer the door, I pinched my cheeks to add some color. I turned and gaped at him. He was in tails, his shirt crisp and white, his tie perfect at the neck. “M’lady,” he said with a flourish and a bow, then left his hand outstretched for mine.
“M’lord,” I returned, taking it and grinning.
He tucked my hand around the crook of his arm and led me down the hallway, then up one flight of stairs, and still another. There, he opened a narrow door, and we climbed upward, single file. I gasped when I reached the terrace. “Oh, Will.”
He grinned and looped an arm around my back, resting his hand on my hip. For a moment, we stood there together, looking out over the city of a hundred generations, cobbled together and yet somehow fitting exquisitely. Romanesque, Gothic, Baroque, and Neoclassical—all architectural styles I could now readily identify, thanks to the tour and Will’s training. Domes and arches, columns and obelisks, loggias and rusticated building blocks. Far below us, in a small piazza, was a fountain of a reclining Nero, water spurting from his mouth into the pool that covered him to the hips. He was big and vibrant, like Rome itself. In the distance were the hills of Rome, and in the far distance, bigger hills moving into green mountains.
“It is beautiful,” I breathed.
“You are even more so,” he said, looking down at me.
I smiled, and he took my hand again and led me to a table for two, set with cloth and crystal beneath a canvas-covered portico. I glimpsed him then, saw that we were not alone. Pascal stood watch at the far corner and gave me a small nod and smile. He too, bless him, was in formal attire.
“Even here we cannot be alone?” I asked Will softly as he moved in my chair.
“I will not have my fiancée”—he paused to give me a triumphant grin—“plucked from my hand again.” He sat down across from me. “Even if my enemy comes on the wings of eagles, Pascal and I shall fight him off. You, Cora Diehl Kensington, shall remain with me.”
I smiled and waited as a footman poured water into our goblets and then wine into our glasses. Another served escargot and tiny crostini with delicate wedges of cheese and tiny slices of basil. I was famished and ate everything on my plate.
“Breakfast was some time ago, wasn’t it?” Will said, obviously similarly hungry. The footmen brought soup then, a rich minestrone, and then pasta. But I laughed aloud when they brought the most monstrous steak I had ever seen and set it between the two of us.
Will grinned at me. “Bistecca, a dish best served in Florence,” he said. “But given that we left Florence in haste, I never had the opportunity to introduce it to you.”
I gave him a wry grin. “This would feed an entire family in Dunnigan.”
“But tonight, it is solely for the two of us.” He gestured to it and rose. “May I cut a portion for you?”
“Please. And then I’m afraid you’ll have to cut it into bites for me too, given my arm…”
“Of course,” he said, more relaxed than I had ever seen him.
We ate. And talked. And ate some more, until I could eat not another bite. I sat leaned my head back, closing my eyes against the splendor of the city at twilight, memorizing the smell and sounds and tastes of Italy, a country I might never see again.
My eyes shot open. “May we return one day, Will? To Italy?”
He looked like a contented cat, across from me, chair shoved back from the table, tie loosened, eyes half closed. He met my gaze. “Of course. Whenever you like. Cora,” he said, reaching across the table. “Don’t you understand it yet? You are a woman grown. A woman of means. A woman of power. This tour has brought about changes in you—internally, externally—just as it does for everyone. Except in your case, it’s tenfold. A hundredfold!”
I laughed under my breath. “I suppose you’re right. But even given all that, I’d only want to return if you would come with me.” I looked out at the city, then back to him. “It’s where we finally found our footing. Together.”
He smiled and nodded as he lifted his glass. “To our next trip to Italia.”
“To our next trip,” I said, lifting my glass and clinking it against his. I sat back again, sipping for a while, then set it down. “Will.”
“Mmm?” he said, lifting one brow.
“You spoke of my means, my power.”
“Yes,” he said, now waiting.
“I would like to use some of that means and power to lobby for change in Montana, or Minnesota. Wherever we might be. So that women might obtain the vote.” I held my breath. I thought I knew where he stood. But I had to be sure…
He considered me for a moment. “I take no issue with that.” He turned the stem of his goblet in a circle, thinking. “I’ve told you before, Cora, that I believe women should have it. That women are far more capable than men give them credit for.”
“I appreciate that, Will. It’s important to me.” I thought a moment and then went on. “And I don’t need a big mansion. Servants. I mean, I suppose some might be necessary, but, Will”—I leaned across the table and took his hand—“I’d ra
ther spend money on people. On projects, like Eleonora’s orphanage, but in our hometown as well as here. I want my wealth to be a gift to more than just me.”
He studied me for a long moment and smiled a little, silently acknowledging that I intended to keep my promises to Eleonora and more. “So you’re telling me not to become used to being a kept man, with fancy watches and fancy duds and fancy motorcars. That you might give it all away?”
I smiled. “No. Don’t get used to it.”
“Okay, then. We’d best see to those university degrees then, especially me,” he said. “I apparently still need to make a living wage.”
“It’s always good to have something to fall back on,” I said, enjoying our game. I sobered then. “But honestly, I don’t think you’ll be satisfied until you get that architectural degree. Set about building your own portion of Rome,” I said, gesturing outward.
“With my own funds,” he said, pointing softly at me. “It must be with my own funds, Cora. The remainder of my schooling, getting set up in an office. A man can handle a wealthy suffragette for a wife if he has his own means of getting by.”
“I understand,” I said.
A footman arrived with dessert, and we both groaned. It looked wonderful and yet horrible, all at the same time. Confused, the man set them down and left, clearly wondering if he’d somehow brought us the wrong dish.
I rose, picked mine up, and carried it over to the long-suffering Pascal, who probably was sick with hunger by now. “Here,” I said, lifting the plate and fork up to him. “Thanks for taking such good care of us, Pascal.”
“It’s a pleasure, Miss.”
“We’ll miss you when we leave.”
“And I, you. This tour has been the most eventful duty I’ve ever had the privilege to have. Vienna will be a bore after this.”
I smiled. “Well, you never know whom you shall guard next. Perhaps it will be an even grander adventure. Eat up. I’ll ask a footman to bring you a sandwich.”
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