Glamorous Illusions (15 page)

I left the window open but stepped back, out of sight, in case it was deemed improper for me to be seen in my bedroom. The gentlemen and ladies below were already in fine clothing worthy of a soiree. Hurriedly, I went back to my door, opened it, listening for any other voices—was I the only one in this wing?—and then, hearing nothing, gently closed it. I moved to the sink and, after undressing, quickly washed myself. I glanced in the mirror and unpinned my hair, brushed it out, then brought it back up in a knot. After the second try, I sighed and silently agreed with Anna—she was better at fixing it than I.

I opened my bag and fished out a tin of powder. In a few minutes I looked refreshed and more ready to be in the company of the ladies below.

A gentle knock sounded at my door. I pulled out a dressing gown and quickly slipped into it, wrapping it tight around my body as I peered around the corner of the door. It was my maid.

Anna bustled inward and lifted up the dress, perfectly pressed, toward me. “Need assistance, miss, putting on your gown?”

“That'd be grand, Anna. It's all a bit uh,
much
, to handle on my own.” I took the gown from her hands and laid it on the bed. “Thank you for pressing it, Anna.”

“Not at all, miss.” She ducked back out the door, took a tray from another servant, and brought it to a small table beside my bed. On it was a tiny china pot, steam lifting from the spout, a cup and saucer, and a small plate of “biscuits”—dense butter cookies.

I smiled. “Thank you, Anna.”

“My pleasure, Miss Cora. Ring the bell when you're ready for me to attend you.” She pointed at three small brass levers by the door, labeled
Maid
,
Butler
, and
Kitchen
.

“I shall,” I managed to say.

The maid slipped out, and I poured myself a cup of tea with trembling hands while I kept glancing at the levers. Back home, Anna and I might've been friends. Here we were clearly mistress and servant. Oddly, I felt more like a pampered princess than dismayed by the injustice of that.
Oh, Mama and Papa, what is happening to me?
How I wished they were here. Sharing in this adventure with me, giving me advice. But then I thought better of it. Even if Papa had not been ailing, I sensed that they would have encouraged me to take this journey.
You have to find your way, Cora
,
Mama had said in the train car as I kissed Papa good-bye.
You know the way.

I do?

Yes
, she'd said, staring into my eyes, as if willing me to understand what she meant.
You are a fine woman, Cora.
And you're about to find out what it means to be a Kensington. Once you discover what that means—and what it doesn't—you'll know. You'll know.

I puzzled over her words, wishing I could go back to that train car and force her to explain what she meant. It'd be easier if I didn't feel so terribly alone. Just when I'd thought I was making headway with the Morgans and Kensingtons, Vivian treated me with disdain, as she had downstairs, and it all fell apart.

I sat down heavily and took a bite of my cookie, closing my eyes as the delicious chunks melted over my tongue. I sipped from my cup of strong black tea, then lay down on the bed, staring up at the ornate plaster ceiling.
Even the ceiling is beautiful.
I turned my head and looked about the room again.
I think I could become rather accustomed to such beauty.

The thought of it startled me. I sat up abruptly.
So soon, Cora
, I chastised myself.
So soon we become used to the finest things…
I shook my head, remembering how I took Mr. Kensington to task over his sterling and what he paid his workers. I massaged my right temple, feeling the beginning of a headache forming there. My father had promised nothing more than this tour and the completion of my education at the Normal School after. That was it. Staying in places like this would soon feel like a distant memory. No. I had to appreciate it but not adopt it as my own. It wasn't mine to hold.

I couldn't let it mold me, leaving me wanting more. I had to take from the tour what I wished, not allow it take me and change me. I had to be strong. True to what I knew was right, good.
Maybe that was what Mama had been talking about…
My fingers rubbed across the smooth, luxurious fabric of my bedding. Never had I felt such finery. I clenched it in my hand and let out a groan. Even the blankets seduced me!

I rose and stepped into my corset, then reluctantly pulled the lever to ring Anna. I stepped behind the dressing screen, and a minute later, she tapped on the door and peeked in. “Miss Kensington?”

“Yes,” I said, flinching over the name. “I'm here.”

She came around and with fast and sure hands, took the ribbons and pulled them tight, lacing them up my back. With each turn, I felt less able to breathe. Back home, we'd taken to girdles we could slip on and off ourselves. Here, it took more “structure,” as Anna liked to call it, in order for the gowns to hang correctly. I spread out my feet, bracing, as she finished her work and quickly tied it at the top.

“There now,” she said, turning to reach for the blue gown that so perfectly matched my eyes. She gathered it up in her hands and then carefully settled it over my head, pulling it down over my body. The luscious silk brushed over my skin and the skirts settled around my ankles.

“Ach, miss, you're a vision. Every duke, earl, and valet will be staring after ya. At least they shall be once I see to your hair.” She led me to a chair before a mirror and quickly brushed it out and wound it into a sleek chignon. Afterward, she pinned a rhinestone-and-feather headband firmly in place.

“Isn't it a little…much?” I asked doubtfully, staring at my reflection in the small oval mirror. I felt like a curious bird with the feather atop my head.

“No, miss. You are perfect,” she purred, clasping her hands in delight as she stared over my shoulder at the reflection in the glass.

“Thanks to you,” I said.

I rose and smoothed my bodice.

“I only made more of what God Himself began,” Anna said, nodding again in appreciation. “You'll surely upstage the duchess in whatever we put you in, so mind your choices. Keep to the center of the crowd.” She leaned in and brushed away a speck from one of my shoulders, then looked into my eyes. “Politely answer every question but do not seek others out. Allow them to come to you. Blend in as much as possible. You understand?”

“I do,” I said, grateful for her coaching.

“You'll be fine,” she said, giving me a bright smile. She patted me on the shoulders and then slipped out the door.

I hesitated, not quite ready to follow. In the corner, I glimpsed my reflection again and did a double take. Slowly, I approached, studying my image in the long oval mirror. Classic. Simple but elegant from head to toe. I looked like I belonged here. In this palace. With these people.

From the outside, I looked like I was one of them.

But on the inside, I knew I was nothing more than an interloper.

CHAPTER 16

~William~

Jensen led them toward the gardens, remarking on different portraits of famous statesmen. For the life of him, Will couldn't remember his third duke from his sixth duke of Northumberland. He only knew his host. It rankled—how much was really vital to remember? Surely if he couldn't remember it, the Kensingtons and Morgans wouldn't. Was it not much more important to center on those things that they might apply later on, in their lives in America? But still, if he forgot a detail, he'd hear it from Uncle for hours tonight.

He'd changed into his formal coat and waistcoat, more appropriate for the evening's festivities, and now he was suffering. He ran a finger under his tight collar and bow tie, hoping to catch a deep breath in the heat of evening.

Guests were starting to arrive en masse.

“I heard Antonio is here,” Uncle had said earlier. “Keep an eye out for him.”

“I will,” Will agreed. He looked forward to seeing the man again. On the last tour, Antonio had become like an older brother to Will. And if it hadn't been for him in Napoli, Will would've been robbed and left for dead by a gang of six young men.

Antonio rounded the corner, laughing with a young earl as if they'd already shared a drink and a game of cards. Will grinned and shook his head as the older man spotted him and hurried over, arms wide, so Italian in his greeting. If the Brits thought Americans were uninhibited, they had to be continually shocked and appalled by the Italians.

“Will!” Antonio cried, thumping him on the back and lifting him off the ground. He pronounced his name like
wheel
,
and it deepened Will's gladness to hear it. “Oh, my friend, how I have missed you!” He drew back, gripping Will's shoulders and smiling broadly. He was several inches shorter than Will, but sturdy and strong, like a boxer.

“It is good to see you, too, Antonio.” He turned and greeted the nobleman at Antonio's side, a young man of about seventeen, sandy haired and slim. On two previous tours, the earl had mentioned joining their party when he came of age. “Has Antonio convinced you to visit Italy yet, Lord Carlisle?”

“Very nearly, yes,” said the young earl. “When will your party reach her this time?”

“Six weeks from now we'll reach Venezia,” Will said. “Two weeks later, Firenze. A week later, Roma and Napoli. It's an interesting mix.”

“I've heard,” said the young man, raising an eyebrow. “Though I confess fraternizing with American girls is the most intriguing aspect of the offer.”

“It's a common draw,” Will said, covering his irritation over Carlisle's comment as his uncle neared.

“You should bring them out to the lakes,” said the earl. “A turn in the district would be enlightening. For us all.”

“Truly?” Will asked, pinning him down. He'd seen his uncle do this a hundred times.

“Truly. Next week?”

“It'd be a delight,” Will said regretfully. “But we're to take the train to Dover and catch a ship in three days' time. And until then, we plan to spend all our time here in London.”

“But they cannot miss the lakes,” the earl said, his brow furrowing.

“Unfortunately we simply cannot manage it this time around. Perhaps the next group we bring?”

“Yes, yes. Certainly. Consider it done.”

“You honor us with your invitation, my lord. May I send word when the time comes?”

“Good enough,” said Lord Carlisle, shaking his hand. “Mother will be alternately aghast and entranced with the prospect of having a group of Americans in. It shall be the most intriguing thing to happen to our manor all year.”

“At least you'll have time to prepare her.”

The young man moved off, and Antonio and his uncle smiled at Will. Antonio clapped him on his shoulder and looked proudly at Will's uncle. “He has learned much, has he not, Stuart?”

“A great deal,” agreed his uncle.

Will smiled. He glanced up and saw, descending the stairs, the ladies of the Morgan and Kensington families. For a moment, he didn't see Cora, but then he knew it was her behind them, pausing at the top as the sun set. Her form was a silhouette as she descended, sunlight streaming around her. As she drew closer, he saw that her gown was the same color as her big, beautiful eyes.

Beside him, Antonio sucked in his breath. “She is a vision, that one. Do you know her name?”

Will tensed. “Indeed I do. She is one of our
clients
. Cora Kensington.”

Antonio shot him a quick look of confusion. “Cora? I do not remember such a name from the list—”

“She was a late addition,” Will said, brushing past him, moving forward to greet the group. He shook hands with the men and bowed toward the ladies. When he got to Cora, Antonio was again beside him, waiting for an introduction.

“Miss Cora Kensington,” Will said, “this is Antonio Lombardi, a fellow guide, specializing in Italia. He shall attend us on the tour.”

Antonio offered his hand and then bent to kiss hers. “You are ravishing, Miss Kensington. I shall have to stand beside you every moment to protect you from the young men of my country.”

Will suppressed the urge to sigh as he watched Cora smile and blush. Antonio was as charming as he was handsome, even if he was twenty years their senior.

She gently pulled her hand from Antonio's, and Will saw his chance. “May I introduce you to some of the others, Cora?” he asked, offering his arm.

Cora gave him an appreciative look that warmed him, and he cast a sly, triumphant look at Antonio as they turned, arm in arm. He had no business competing for Cora's attentions; he knew that. He only wanted her to succeed, flourish on the tour. Make the most of it. Nothing more.
Nothing more
, he repeated in his mind firmly.

But he could not deny that it felt good to be drawing the eye of everyone they passed. He wore the finest clothing he owned, even if it was two sizes too small, and Cora…well, she looked incredibly beautiful. “A most handsome couple,” an older woman murmured as they passed. Will remained silent; had Cora heard?

The rest of the Morgans and Kensingtons were already mingling, having discovered relations they'd met in America, apparently, who in turn were introducing them around. Uncle Stuart looked back over his shoulder, concern shrouding his eyes, and then his brows lifted when he saw Cora with Will.

“What is it?” Cora asked quietly.

He glanced at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You stiffened when your eyes met your uncle's. What is it?”

“Uh, nothing,” he said. He saw a group of five young men turn from their conversation and gaze in Cora's direction, clearly talking about her, eyes alight in anticipation of finding a way to be introduced. But how long would it be before word got out that she was Wallace Kensington's illegitimate daughter? Knowing well how these people worked, it wouldn't be long. There was a certain prejudice against Americans to begin with—especially the nouveaux riches like the Morgans and Kensingtons—but anyone with scandalous parentage? The bluebloods could be merciless, regardless of their own dalliances.

“How much of our tour will be spent in evenings like this?” she murmured.

“Mmm, they'll be frequent. Every few nights, at least.” She was silent, and he cocked his head, waiting for her to meet his gaze again. “You don't enjoy parties?”

“It takes a great deal of effort. I'm interested in the landscape, the history, the monuments, the art… The people are obstacles I have to negotiate, I'm afraid.” She looked around the courtyard. “There were hardly this many people in my entire town back in Montana.”

“Ahh, but the people are part of the tour,” he said as they entered the massive glass conservatory. “Perhaps you can think of the whole tour as a canvas, and the people merely one element within it.” He held open the door for her, and she swept by, smelling of verbena and lemon. Or was it the plants around them? Inside the conservatory, the temperature rose by a good ten degrees, and tropical plants lined each edge. Exotic birds sang and flew above like some sort of elaborate stage set for a play about to unfold. “Understanding the people of each country we visit—truly getting a sense of who they are—is part of the experience,” he said.

They came across a group of young people Will had met the previous year in France. Quickly, Cora was introduced around and was soon surrounded by admirers. They wanted to know what life was like in the wilds of Montana and if gold was still available for the taking. She seemed to be holding her own, so Will allowed two sisters to spirit him off to introduce him to their mother. They were bent on taking their own Grand Tour in the coming year and wanted him to be their bear.

Warmed by their praise and joined by the girls' father and brother, Will spoke with them for a good long while, outlining the basics of the tour and pulling away to discuss finances with their father. It was exhilarating, thinking of guiding on his own, without the shadow of his uncle following his every move. He could make more money and possibly return to school earlier than planned.

The first notes of the orchestra wafted through the air past the open windows of the conservatory. As one, the group began to shift to the doors, and after promising to dance with each of the sisters, Will guiltily looked around for his charges. In the last hour, he'd not glimpsed one of the Morgans or Kensingtons. In particular, Cora. Where had she gone off to?

He moved to the buffet table, hurriedly heaping some tender roast chicken, a creamy soufflé, and some carrots onto his plate before turning to look again. There, in the far corner, was Vivian, speaking with the duchess and some of her friends. He moved toward her, thinking that if he found one Kensington, he was liable to find the others. He shoveled several bites into his mouth. It was always hard to find time to eat at such parties when one was constantly chatting or dancing, but his stomach was screaming for sustenance. It was no wonder that so many ended up tipsy from the champagne when it was brought to them on endless passing trays and quickly swallowed.

Outside, a second massive pyramid of crystal glasses had been set up, and a servant on a ladder was beginning to pour, sending the golden liquid cascading down in a champagne waterfall. The crowd sighed in admiration, clapping at his success. Will noted that they were already much more cheery than when they'd first arrived. Such was the effect of alcohol, before everything headed downhill.

He took another bite of the chicken and took a step toward Andrew and Vivian, still looking around for the others.

That was when he heard her. Vivian, speaking to the duchess's friend.

“I confess I have no idea what my father was thinking. We didn't even know of her a month ago. And now she's to be on tour with us? What will people think?”

“Miss Kensington!” Will said, covering his bark with a belated, pretend cough. “Forgive me, but may I steal my client away for a moment?”

“Certainly,” said the duchess's friend, looking a tad pale, her eyes wide with excitement. It was early, and yet Vivian already had found the biggest gossip around.

Will took Vivian's arm and ushered her away, working very hard not to grip too hard, nor walk too fast, even though he wanted to storm her out and give her a good thrashing. When they were ten paces off, they turned, and he glanced back. Andrew was frowning in their direction, clearly wondering what was going on, but Will ignored him. “
What
are you doing, Vivian?”

She pulled her arm from his hand and sniffed. “Protecting our good name.”

“Protecting? You just—”

“I just made a preemptive strike,” she said, crossing her arms. “The duchess knows already, Will. She
knows
. It took her but an hour to find out the truth.”

“Who—”

“What does it matter? All we can do now is to make sure that everyone knows we didn't invite Cora in. It's either gather against her or fall with her.”

Will's mouth dropped open. “How can you say such a thing?”

“It's the truth of it. If we wish to fraternize with these people, we need to deal with it as my father wished—head-on—and deal with the repercussions. We shall be accepted or we shall not. Now if you'll excuse me…”

Will clenched his fists at his side. “It's not you who will bear the repercussions, Vivian. It will be Cora. Through no fault of her own.”

Vivian paused, and a flash of doubt ran through her eyes.

“You've ruined her,” he growled. “Before we've even begun.”

Vivian lifted her chin. “I didn't ruin her, Will. My father ruined her mother. He might want to make her into a woman of society, give her the opportunity, but she will never be more than a Molly Brown to these people, or to me. If we do not make it clear that we are different, that she's been thrust upon us like an unwelcome gift, we'll be treated the same. We'll all be ruined.”

“Isn't that what it means to be a family?” Will asked. “To stand together?”

“She is not family to me,” Vivian said. “She is a stray dog my father brought home.”

With that, she walked off, and Will turned away, setting his plate on the nearest table, no longer hungry.