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“Oh, all right,” she huffed in feigned annoyance. “Then, tell me about your club. I need a distraction.”
Cora sent her a look but then began to talk. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for years now,” she said, her gaze intent on where they were headed. “It will be a club only for those who have reached a certain threshold in their connections and business success,” she explained, and Manuela nodded, even though she could hardly think of a more horrible way to spend her time. “There are many exclusive clubs in Europe, but in mine, you will have to prove that you have the gravitas to manage yourself in the company of the brightest, most innovative minds in the world.”
It sounded like a place that Felix would kill to belong to and Manuela wouldn’t be caught dead in. With effort, she smoothed the lines on her forehead. “But why not make your own women’s club? Wouldn’t it be better to have a place where women who do business felt welcome?”
“Because I want to build something they can’t ignore.”
“Wouldtheybe willing to join if it’s owned by a woman?”
Cora’s expression turned wry. The Duchess of Sundridge was always a step ahead. “I will be setting very high standards for membership, and some will do it just as a point of pride,” she explained. “If that fails, I have a few associates who owe me favors that I could...” she stopped, as if considering what word to use “...convince to join in order to lure others.” From the set of Cora’s shoulders, Manuela figured the persuasion would be rather aggressive. “But I think they’ll come. Men like that can’t tolerate the idea of a door being closed to them, you see.”
Manuela thought of the women she’d met at Cassandra’s. It would be virtually impossible for any of them to be allowed in a club like the one Cora was planning to open, and yet they could benefit greatly from something like it existing. A physical place where they could meet to discuss job offers, compare rates or even have studio space to work on commissions. From what she knew of Cora, she’d probably be open to building that too, she just wouldn’t participate in it.
She did that: gave money to help her friends do what madethemhappy, but she stayed in this worldshedidn’t seem happy in. Like Claudine had said, always scheming, always devising a way to outsmart the men she dealt with.
Manuela thought of her own choices, of the marriage she’d agreed to enter, to save her family’s status, to protect their standing among people who didn’t deserve their regard. And decided she and Cora were not so different after all.
They remained quiet as they made their way through the crowds. Manuela was deep in thought when Cora spoke again. “There’s a club here in Paris, the Cercle Agricole, and it’s very exclusive. Like White’s in London.” There was a strain in Cora’s voice, like she wanted Manuela to understand why she was doing it. “Women are not allowed to be members, but they can come for a lunch.” Something told her something unpleasant had happened at this club. “About five years ago, a few of my associates invited me to a meeting there. I’d brought them an investment for a shipping line out of the South Pacific and was there to report the news that our profits had been more than twice what we’d expected in the first year.” Her lips were turned up, but it was not smile. “When we arrived at the door, they informed me I had to enter the building through the ladies’ entrance and meet them inside.Ihad to walk around the building and enter through the same door where the delivery men dropped off the produce in order to have the honor of informing men who couldn’t do basic arithmetic without my help that I’d made them a fortune.”
Manuela could see the fresh humiliation on Cora’s face, the unhappy notches around her mouth as if it had only just happened. Manuela, who had been the subject of so many slights by men who saw her as nothing more than a bit of flesh for them to grope and look at, understood that rage. But what she couldn’t comprehend was why Cora hadn’t walked away. Manuela certainly would if she could.
“Then, why do business with them?” she asked, vexed. Manuela was not naïve—she was marrying a man she could never love, but that was because she had to. Cora didn’t need these men. She was wealthy; she had power. She was a duchess.
“I do business with them because after my husband’s death, I learned the hard way that the only way I could protect myself and Alfie was to harness power.” Manuela thought of what Cassandra had said about the affair she’d had. Cora didn’t appear very concerned about people knowing she preferred women, but maybe that was the price she paid to secure that liberty. “If they need me, they can’t turn their backs on me. If I save them from ruin, if I use their own greed against them, I never have to worry about Alfie being punished for my choices.”
What an exhausting way to live. Always braced for battle. “When will you know you’re safe? When will you have enough power?” Manuela asked, causing Cora to send her a surprised look, which was almost immediately replaced by a defiant one.
“Getting my hands on your land will be a coup,” she said, and a hole opened in the pit of Manuela’s stomach. “That will help with my plans for Alfie’s return to London, at least. But the truth is that it’s never enough.” From looking at Cora, the way she lived, one would think she’d managed to overcome the fears most women had to live with. But she seemed just as trapped as the rest of them.
“We are here,” Cora announced, and only then did Manuela realize they’d reached the rear entrance to the Brazilian pavilion. The one that led to the greenhouse.
“Is this—” she began to ask when Cora nodded, waving a hand in the direction of the closed door. It was empty now, and though there were a few people milling around the gardens, there was no one inside.
“Have you been in it yet?”
Manuela shook her head, her heart beating fast. “I never got around to it.” For some reason, her eyes stung. “But it’s closed.”
Cora laughed, then put a hand on Manuela’s lower back to guide her to the glass structure. “You seemed so unconcerned with potential breaking-and-entering charges the last time you intended to come here that I thought you’d be more than willing to engage in a little crime for the sake of your art.”
Manuela’s eyes narrowed at that. “You’re telling me that your surprise is helping me break into the greenhouse?”
Cora’s mouth twitched, which only made Manuela’s own smile wider. “I called in a few favors and asked to be allowed in after hours.”
“Breaking the law for me would’ve been far more romantic,” Manuela countered, unable to hide her happiness at the gesture as they walked inside. No one had ever done something like this for her. Indulged her in this way. “This is wonderful,” she said, as she took in the space. There were plants everywhere, sprays of birds-of-paradise and a dizzying array of orchids covering every inch of the many tables lined up and down the structure. They were at the center of the room where they’d set up a cluster of palms, which were conveniently hiding them from view. Unable to resist, Manuela reached for Cora and pulled her in for a kiss. First her jaw, then her cheek, then that mouth which was slowly becoming her favorite place. “Thank you,” she whispered and stopped herself.
“You’re welcome.” They kissed slowly, tenderly, already practiced in the give-and-take of that intimate caress. Their tongues gliding together as they stood in the balmy heat of the greenhouse. Tropical birds chirped somewhere, and the water from the fountains scattered around the place gurgled as Manuela let herself imagine that this woman was hers and that this was but the beginning of a future full of big and small loving gestures. Of easy affection and scorching nights of lovemaking.
What a world to imagine: one in which this body pressed to hers, this mouth tasting hers could belong to her forever.
This woman of contradictions. Who arranged for her to see a greenhouse because Manuela said it mattered for her work. Who made sure her art was given not only its place but respected. Who, even when she was unkind, managed to be thoughtful.
With one last ardent kiss she pulled back, pushing aside any melancholy thoughts that would rob her of the happiness of this moment.
“Shall we go look for the lily pads?” she asked a little too brightly.
“They’re this way.” Cora waved a hand toward the depths of the greenhouse, then patted Manuela playfully on the bottom the moment she started to walk.
“Very unladylike, Your Grace.” It was impossible not to smile.
