Glamorous Illusions (14 page)

Will nodded and then took Cora's hand firmly in his, leading her down the hall. They had to pause periodically for the waves, but it was remarkably easier going than it had been just fifteen minutes past. When they reached the Kensingtons and Morgans, Felix and Hugh and their servants stood, while the women remained seated.

Felix looked pointedly down at Will and Cora's intertwined hands. Will abruptly released Cora even as a knowing expression entered his former classmate's eyes. His smirk rankled Will.

“Everyone all right?” Will asked.

“We're all right,” said Felix. “What of those two you brought through here?”

“I'm not certain,” Will said, shaking his head. He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand through his hair. The waves outside had eased more, yet. “Excuse me,” Will called to an officer who was rushing past. “Are we through the worst of it?”

“Yes, sir. Still heavy seas ahead. But nothing like what we've just been through. It's safe to return to your cabins,” the officer said, looking down the line of passengers huddled in their life vests. “We'll reach calm waters in an hour or two. Perhaps you all should attempt to get some sleep in the meantime. You can sleep in your vests if it eases your minds.”

They nodded, and he left, but they all stayed where they were. Will knew it'd be a while before they felt safe enough to do as he suggested. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and leaned toward his uncle. “Since all is well here, I'd like to go back to the saloon and see if I might be of assistance. Andrew's back there with the elderly couple.”

“Your place is here,” Uncle Stuart hissed. His eyes brooked no argument. He was angry that Will hadn't been with their clients the whole time. With him. His eyes held fear, and Will knew he'd been worried for his nephew's safety.

“I'll go,” Felix said, putting a hand on Will's shoulder.

Will, struck by his friend's kindness, nodded once, and Felix began picking his way down the hall, which grew more crowded by the minute. Cora was reaching out to Nell, stroking her plump arm. Will liked that she cared for the youngest of the Morgans, but he wished she would look his way. Even once. He wanted to see her face, know that she was calm, no longer frightened. He frowned when he remembered the feel of her strong but slender fingers in his hand, the feel of her shoulder beneath her thin gown, as if it had been seared into his memory.
Entirely improper, that
, he chastised himself.

“William,” said a feminine voice. He turned, hoping it was Cora. But it was Lillian, admiration large in her green eyes. She reached out and touched his forearm. “I just wanted to say,” she said, dropping her gaze and then slowly looking up at him, “that I thought it most heroic of you. Helping that couple as you did.”

“Yes, well,” he said, looking past her to Cora, who had been watching them. She glanced away. “I did as anyone else might.”

“Might,” Lillian said meaningfully.

“Oh, leave him be, Lil,” Vivian said, reaching up to pull her sister back down to the floor. She leaned closer, until she was nose to nose with her sister and said, just loudly enough for Will to hear, “What'd I tell you? No fraternization with the guide. It's entirely improper.”

Will turned away and took a few steps to an empty spot along the hall, then slid wearily to the floor. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting it rock back and forth with the waves. Vivian espoused only what he himself did—no fraternization between client and guide. Yet why did her words burn?

He knew why. Behind his shut lids, he could see only Cora, the angel at the top of the stairs, and earlier, outside, in her ice-blue gown, at the fore of the ship.

Cora.

It can never happen
, he thought, squeezing his eyelids hard, as if he could press the memory into such a slim slice that he would forget.

But he couldn't.

CHAPTER 15

~Cora~

After the storm, I immersed myself in life aboard ship, wishing to concentrate on anything but the dangers present. Something had shifted with the storm; the girls and Vivian seemed to more readily accept my presence rather than look over their shoulders at me as an intruder. We took to the saltwater pool during the women's hours, watched the young men play squash from the gallery, played shuffleboard ourselves, and took tea at Café Parisien, decorated to look like an authentic café in Paris. “You'll see for yourself in but a week,” Will said, when I asked him if the eatery was really like those in France. The thought of seeing Paris thrilled me.

And it terrified me too. What was a simple girl from a farm in Montana to do among the highborn society of England and France and Italy? It was finally sinking in that I was going. That we were almost there. Almost ready to formally begin our Grand Tour.

Will and his uncle took turns giving short lectures each day about British history and the imperial impact on world politics. We would not be long in London; after only a few days, we'd be on our way via train to port, then a ship to Paris, sailing up the Seine.

“Do you think we might meet the king?” Lillian said, clapping her hands.

“I doubt it,” the bear said drily. “We
might
catch a glimpse of him at some point. But you will be introduced to your distant relatives, who no doubt will introduce you to their friends. If we're most fortunate, we'll be ushered into parties where even the king and queen consort might attend. That is how the tour works best; we meet people with whom we are associated in some form, and therefore we can secure proper lodging as well as introduction to the region's most scintillating society.”

“I thought the tour was to expand our education, our understanding of the world,” I said. There was little, I thought, that could bore me more than hours of tea and idle conversation with people I didn't know, whether they be kin or not.

“Indeed. Getting to know the people of these lands will offer us a far richer and deeper education than if we simply traveled the tired tourist routes.” Will's uncle smiled at me benignly. “Trust me.”

I sighed and turned away. The old bear surely remembered the obstacles they were likely to face with me along. People were expecting the legitimate children of Hubert Morgan and Wallace Kensington.

It wouldn't take long for the whispers to start once they found there were now three and a half Kensingtons where once there were only three.

I felt the seas beneath my feet, the gentle roll and rock, long after I'd disembarked and made the journey to London via train. It took six hired touring vehicles to transport us and our belongings from the train station to the estate on the outskirts of the city where we were to lodge. The traffic lessened as we continued west along the Thames, where the homes and estates grew larger. One lane after another led to magnificent manors and huge Tudor mansions. I gaped at the monstrous homes, wondering how many people such mansions could hold. My companions, Lillian and Nell, peppered our driver with questions about who lived in each and what sort of lavish parties they hosted.

But when our driver turned down a lane that was more of a boulevard, with manicured, mature trees down the center and perfectly laid gravel on either side, we all fell silent. Before us sprawled a palace of light-yellow stone, with crenellated walls and towers on either end and flags waving in the wind. So formidable was its effect that we half expected guards to patrol the towers, watching for enemy assault. Servants stood outside, as if awaiting our arrival.

As soon as we stopped, a man in uniform stepped forward to open our car doors. Another came around and assisted me out. “Welcome to Syon House, miss,” said the butler.

“Thank you,” I said, staring up at the palace wall high above us.

“Don't gape, Cora,” Vivian whispered, firmly taking my arm. “It is unseemly.”

“Oh, right,” I said, feeling every bit of the shame her tone cast upon me. She'd lectured Lillian about that enough.

I fell into step beside her as we followed Andrew and Will up the steps and into the Great Hall. The sprawling room was like a sketch from the history books come alive. Decorated in the Greco-Roman style and made almost entirely of stone and plaster, the Great Hall was a good fifteen degrees cooler inside than out. Magnificent marble statues occupied alcove after alcove. My eyes traced the beautiful blue-and-white marble beneath my feet, and the fine, fluted columns that rose to the domed ceiling. Never had I been in such a fine structure. And someone called this their
home
?

When two servants had brought us all a glass of champagne, a butler at the door said, “Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce your hosts, the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland.”

In walked a rather homely couple in their late thirties, dressed in the finest clothing. The duchess's hand rested gently atop the duke's open and raised hand. She wore a cream-colored suit dress and a long string of pearls, her hair perfectly coiffed. He wore a distinctive summer suit, brown with cream pinstripes, and perfectly shined shoes. One by one we were introduced.

The duchess's eyes roamed over Vivian, Lillian, and me. “I misunderstood, Master McCabe,” she said. “I believed you were bringing six guests. Did Mr. Kensington or Mr. Morgan adopt another child en route?” She laughed at her own joke. My sisters and Nell twittered nervously along with her. Felix edged slightly away from me. I only stared at our bear, hoping he would find a way to smooth this over without immediately addressing the truth of my paternity.

“It appears that way, does it not?” he said easily. “Mr. Kensington hadn't yet convinced Cora to come when we sent our letter to you. She was rather embroiled in her life in the States and hesitant to join the others for the tour. I hope it's no imposition.”

“Not at all.” The duchess turned cool eyes on me. I imagined her running through a version of the family tree, checking out pedigrees, and discovering where my branch ran awry of the others. I fought to keep a smile on my face, my feet still.

She turned to speak to a maid over her shoulder and then gestured to all of us. “I'm certain you all are weary from the road, as well as famished. The servants will show you to your rooms, and you can freshen up.”

“Tonight, there is to be a grand party in the conservatory, as well as fireworks,” said the duke, “a tribute for my wife's birthday.” He glanced benignly at his wife. “You are all invited, of course.”

Nell and Lillian immediately murmured their birthday wishes, which seemed to make the duchess bristle. I'd already seen that the British seemed somewhat cool in their demeanor. Removed. Or did the duchess just not care for the idea of the party at all? The reminder of her advancing years?

“Yes, well,” she said, turning toward the bear. “You may meet our butler, Jensen, here in two hours. He will take you on a tour of the palace, as well as introduce you to the grounds. Then, you can take the others about at your leisure. I imagine you'd find that agreeable?”

The older guide nodded. “Very much so. Beyond kind, my lady.”

“Not at all. The house and her artwork hold a fine piece of British history. It is our good pleasure to share it with you, a fitting beginning to your tour. Tonight at seven, please join the party outside. Once you make your way to us, we shall make proper introductions.”

“Thank you, your Graces,” the bear said, giving them a genteel bow.

They both nodded, gave him an affected smile, and then left us.

Vivian let out a pent-up breath, looking relieved that we'd dodged the bullet. Her eyes flicked over me and on to Andrew, who took her hand with a smile and kissed it. “See there? All is well,” he murmured.

“Yes, well,” she said, her eyes passing over me again. “For the moment anyway.”

I found my luggage in the arms of a tall manservant—Jensen, I assumed—who peered down at me through tiny spectacles. Anna, my maid, was beside him, holding my smallest trunk.

“May we see you to your room, Miss Kensington?” said Jensen, lifting a haughty brow.

I glanced around. I wasn't the only Kensington here. So why single me out? But then I saw Vivian's flared nostrils and narrowed eyes. Apparently my pause had been a misstep of some kind. I turned back to Jensen. As demurely as I could, I said, “I'd be most appreciative.”

“Right this way,” he said, gliding up the staircase off the western corridor. Other servants met with the rest of our party and followed behind us.

On the ground floor, in the center of the foyer where the curving staircase lifted to the second story, there was a massive golden vase atop a marble pedestal.

The servant glanced back and saw me gawking at it. “A gift from the king of France to the third duke. The duke, as Britain's ambassador extraordinary, attended his coronation in 1825.”

“I see,” I said. “It's quite beautiful.”

“Quite,” Jensen said.

I wondered what it would be like to attend a coronation. What it would be like to be an ambassador. To bear such a title as duke, let alone ambassador extraordinary.

We walked down a long hall, the manservant's heels clicking on the marble floor. I looked back, but here, no one else followed us. Perhaps it was why I had been picked first—I was the last-minute addition. My sense of pride faded as we passed eight or nine rooms, doors open as if to display each immaculate, elaborately decorated apartment, until we apparently reached the one selected for me. My escort bent and slipped a key into the lock and opened the door, then waited for me to go in first.

My mouth dropped open as I went immediately to the window. The man set down my bag and then came to the window too. “The duchess thought a woman so reluctant to leave the wilds of America might enjoy a view of the wood from her window.”

“Indeed,” I said, admiring the sprawling gardens before me. To the right, I glimpsed a huge glass conservatory, lines of servants coming and going from it, getting ready for the party.

More servants arrived with the rest of my trunks. Jensen excused himself, but Anna stayed to help me unpack a few of my gowns. “May I press the one you wish to wear this evening?”

I started, still not used to servants looking after my every whim. “Please.” I moved over to the trunk, looking for the blue dress that gathered at the shoulder and came together at the waist, making me feel like a Grecian princess. And with no sleeves, it would be cooler this summer evening, when I was liable to be sweating through one introduction after another. “This one,” I said, pulling it free and handing it to the maid.

“Ahh, that's a beauty, miss,” said Anna. “I'll have it back to you in the lick of a ladybug's tongue. Then we'll do up your hair.”

I smiled. “Sounds quick indeed. Maybe I can do my own hair if—”

“Don't even consider it, miss,” she said with the bob of a curtsy. “It's best if I see to it.”

I laughed under my breath. She had just offended me and offered me nothing but service at the same time.

“Do you need some help in locatin' your slippers and undergarments, miss?” Anna said.

“No, thank you. I'll just take a sponge bath and perhaps lie down until you get back.”

“Of course. Take your rest. I'll see to your gown. You be needin' anything else, miss? A spot of tea? A bit of biscuit?”

“When you return,” I said, “that'd be wonderful. Say, are you happy to be back in England?”

She looked to the window and smiled, more broadly than I'd ever seen. “More than you know. But we'll only be here for a few days, so I aim to not get too attached.”

“Will you see family while you're here?”

Her smile faded. “Not much of my family left in England proper. But I would like to see if I might find my aunt. That is, if I could have an evening off, miss.” Her eyes went to the floor as if she'd asked for too much.

“Oh,” I said, “please. Take a whole day. Just let me know when you wish to go.”

“Thank you, miss,” she said with another quick bob, holding up my wrinkled ice-blue gown. “I'll be back shortly.” She left then, quietly closing the tall door behind her. I felt like an interloper, looking around the room. Who was I to be giving anyone a day off? Who was I to be here, in this incredible mansion of a house, in this beautiful room? My eyes roved over every wall. It was decorated in whites and blues, but it had a warmer feel than the Great Hall, given that there was more painted woodwork and paintings and rugs atop the marble floor.

I returned to the window and peered out through the wavy plate-glass windows at the trees but thirty feet away. I figured out the mechanism to release the window and, with a creaking push, opened the massive panel, taking a deep breath of the fresh air that smelled of gardenias and lavender. I glanced down and saw that my movement had caught the attention of two gentlemen, one with dark hair and the shadow of an evening beard, the other fairer. Both smiled and nodded in my direction, then respectfully looked away, continuing their walk.