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“Of course,” Cora echoed. Someone—likely Aurora—gasped, but Alfie seemed amused by the conversation happening between Manuela and his stepmother. “Can I speak to you for a moment, Miss Caceres Galvan?” the duchess asked, her face very serious, prompting Alfred into action.
“Would you do me the honor, Doctora Montalban?” Aurora eyed his proffered hand dubiously, but it seemed the persuasive skills of the family didn’t solely reside with the duchess. “We could leave these ladies to talk while you tell me all about your medical practice.” That was all it took for Aurora’s fortress against the aristocracy to crumble. She let the handsome duke lead her away while Manuela and the duchess exchanged torrid looks. They were standing about a foot apart, but Manuela could feel a wall of heat radiating between them.
After she left the duchess she’d convinced herself her impulsive offer was about getting her last bit of freedom. But right now, standing in front of this woman with her heart in her throat and her body in the grips of burning desire, she had to recognize the overture was as much about the duchess as it was about experiencing Paris. “Have you given my proposal any more thought, Your Grace?”
“I’ve scarcely thought of anything else.” Her voice was so deep and husky. It was a voice made to whisper dark, ruinous deeds in hidden corners. Manuela’s clothes felt too tight as she imagined herself leaning against the wall with those full lips brushing her ear and one of those elegant hands up her skirt. “I imagined you’d be on the dance floor with one of these simpering boys who can’t seem to tear their eyes off you.” Manuela’s breath caught at the naked disdain she bestowed upon the men looking in their direction. She was not foolish enough to think it was jealousy, but there was a hint of possessiveness there that intrigued her.
Before she responded she took a step forward, so they were merely inches apart. Her mouth went dry from the proximity, the need to kiss the woman lashing away every ounce of sense. For a moment she could scarcely remember what it was she was supposed to be doing.
Oh yes, staging her attack.
“My apologies if I didn’t make myself clearer in our previous meetings. Simpering boys are not of any interest to me, and I didn’t come here to dance.”
“Given my knowledge of what you entertain yourself with, I’m afraid to ask what you intended to do this evening, if dance is out of the question, princess.” She spoke the words very low, so low that Manuela had to bend down to hear. Their arms brushed for a fleeting second, and the effect of that friction ran up her spine like lightning. But she wasn’t so far gone as to miss an opportunity to shock the duchess.
“Well,” she started, smiling up at Cora. She liked thinking of her as Cora. “The duchess” didn’t seem quite right anymore. Not with the things she wanted from the woman. “Iwasintending to break into the greenhouse at the Brazilian pavilion, but only after I had some refreshments.” Cora’s eyes twinkled with mirth as two white teeth snagged her bottom lip. God, she was so beautiful,
“What kind of evening would it be if you didn’t commit some breaking and entering?” Her tone was very serious, but her mouth tugged into a heart-stopping crooked smile, and again a flush of happiness coursed through Manuela.
“I hope we never have to find out,” she taunted, making a laugh escape Cora.
“Dare I ask why the Brazilian pavilion?”
“Flowers—flora,” Manuela corrected herself, “are a central theme of my art. The Brazilians have brought hundreds of endemic orchid varietals I’ve never seen.” Cora’s eyes widened with interest, just like they had that night at Le Bureau. It was rare for Manuela to receive this kind of reaction when she mentioned her art. The Leonas were encouraging of her, but they didn’t light up at the prospect of hearing her go on about her inspiration or aesthetic. The duchess, on the other hand, seemed impatient to hear more. “They even have gigantic lily pads called Victoria Amazonica. I heard they’re big enough for an adult to lay on them.”
“Crimes de florale,” she said, with humor. “You are inventive, princesa.” The duchess pressed closer, and for a breathless second their chests touched. The friction sent a jolt of lust right to her core. Maybe it had been a mistake to do this in plain sight.
“My friends would say foolhardy,” she refuted in a self-mocking tone that turned the duchess’s smile into a frown. “I’ve tried to see them during the day twice already, but there are just too many people.”
Cora considered that for a moment and seemed to be readying a question when a very large man with an unfortunate set of very greasy whiskers approached them.
“Sundridge, I’ve been looking for you, but finding even one person who speaks French is a damned ordeal in this place.” Instantly the interested, warm Cora was replaced by the icy woman from Au Rocher de Cancale.
“Good evening, Blanchet.” Nothing about the way Cora greeted the man could be considered anything other than perfectly cordial, and yet somehow it landed like an insult. Blanchet didn’t seem to notice: his beady eyes were much too busy roaming lecherously over Manuela. The man’s shameless leering made her wish she had a shawl to cover herself with. Cora also noticed, and smoothly placed herself between Manuela and the older man. The simple gallantry of the gesture had quite an impact on Manuela. She couldn’t recall another time when someone had so instinctively protected her. “Is there anything you need?” Cora asked, her tone decidedly less friendly.
“Say, did you make any progress with that little chit who owns the land we want?” Manuela thought what she’d seen on Cora’s expression after she’d made her scandalous offer was anger, but now she realized she’d been wrong.
“Could you show at least a modicum of manners, Blanchet?” she asked through gritted teeth, the warning clear as day in her voice.
“Such emotion this evening, Your Grace.” He didn’t spit the words, but he might as well have. “I thought you were congenitally frigid.”
Manuela didn’t normally care enough about men’s opinions to muster up any kind of reaction to their barbs. But hearing Blanchet’s brazen insult caused a wave of revulsion to rise in her. And why was Cora not telling him to go to hell?
Without thinking she decided to throw herself firmly between whatever tug-of-war was happening between the duchess and Blanchet. “Monsieur Blanchet, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. If you are referring tomyland in Venezuela, I can assure you the duchess drives a very persuasive bargain. We were just now discussing the terms of the sale.”
Blanchet fell prey to a coughing fit once he realized his misstep. The duchess shot her that same look of puzzled admiration from their luncheon and suddenly Manuela was done. She wanted more time with this woman and she was willing to play dirty to get it. “Just now we were settling some final details, weren’t we, Your Grace?” Cora would either go along with Manuela and seal the deal, or she would not.
After a long pause the duchess finally spoke. “Of course,” she asserted with a nod under the scrutiny of Blanchet’s dubious gaze. “In fact, Blanchet,” she turned such a deadly smile in the man’s direction Manuela almost expected him to cry out in pain. “Would you allow me another minute with Miss Caceres Galvan? We—”
“I don’t see why that’s necessary,” the man interrupted. “Surely I would be privy to anything you are to discuss regarding the acquisition of the land.”
Manuela had heard the expressionmurderous eyesbefore and had always considered it a metaphor, but now she saw that one could indeed see an intent to kill in a person’s gaze. Poor Blanchet seemed completely unaware of how close he was to meeting his maker.
“Actually, Monsieur Blanchet,” she whispered in her most innocent, angelic voice, “I don’t feel at ease conversing about such delicate topics in the presence of a gentleman.” She made sure to add a flutter of her eyelashes and an inviting pout. This weaponry had always seemed to mollify the gentlemen of Blanchet’s kind.
“Of course, my apologies.” He took a step forward and brushed a whiskered kiss on Manuela’s gloved hand before stepping back to glance at Cora. “If you would be so kind to find me once you are done, Your Grace.” Manuela could almost hear Cora pulverizing her molars at the man’s haughty tone, but she mustered up ayesbefore sending him on his way.
Manuela thought she would at least receive a thank you from the duchess, but instead she was grabbed by the arm and pulled into the same hiding place where she’d made her confession to the Leonas only minutes earlier. Lust and apprehension swirled in her belly as she was pierced by very unhappy eyes. Cora stepped up to her until she had her back pressed to the wall, and once again Manuela’s mouth was faster than her brain.
