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She had noticed that much like at Cassandra’s, there were a remarkable number of women walking around in trousers. Very much like the ones Cora wore that first night.
“I would love to get a pair,” Aurora mused, then sent a pointed look at Manuela. “I might need you to put in a good word for me with the duchess.”
Manuela frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Aurora rolled her eyes. “Do you make any conversation with the woman when you’re together, or do you just stare at her with moony eyes?”
“I have never mooned,” Manuela flicked her hand, but was too curious to not push for more details. “What is this trousers thing?”
“Apparently the city of Paris has had an ordinance since the Revolution requiring women request a permit to wear trousers in public.” Aurora took a generous bite of her chicken. Manuela almost snatched it out of her hands, but that would not get her the information any faster. “Your duchess has been footing the bills for women to acquire these permits.”She had?Aurora nodded, which meant Manuela must have asked the question out loud. “She has a solicitor on retainer that only manages the permits, she’s gotten dozens of them.”
That same fluttering she’d had when she heard about Cora procuring the food for Cassandra’s dinner party started up in her chest and bad, unwise, impossible delusions cropped up in her mind. It was best to focus on something else, and fast.
“That’s very kind of her. Did Frede have anything else to say about medical matters?” Yes, she was desperate enough to submit herself to one of her friend’s monologues if it would distract her from thinking about Cora. But Aurora knew her too well, and simply stared blankly at her. “Fine,Ihad a lovely chat with Cassandra.”
In truth she’d had quite a few stimulating conversations once she’d forced herself away from keeping guard at the entrance like an obsessed lunatic and joined Cassie’s guests. Some had been at the dinner at her house, and Manuela had been eager to reconnect with them. She’d read the essay written by Frede’s grandmother as she’d promised—Cora had sent her a copy by messenger the next morning, always so horridly thoughtful—and she’d been eager to discuss it.
Their conversation had been so open, so honest, that Manuela even shared some of the ideas she’d been mulling about an artists’ collective. Not for herself, of course, but for Cassandra and her friends. Claudine thought it all wonderful and suggested she share them with Aristide Pasquale, which resulted in Cassandra suggesting that Manuela come with her to the academy the next day.
All in all, it was one of the most encouraging evenings she’d had since she arrived in Paris, and she could not enjoy it because a certain imperious duchess could not do her part in putting Manuela out of her misery. And it was misery: she was practically jumping out of her skin. Every black head and straight back she’d seen all evening had her heart practically galloping up her throat.
“Who exactly are you glaring at?” Aurora asked through a mouthful of something.
“At an imaginary Duchess of Sundridge. I honestly cannot believe she stood me up.” She resisted the temptation of dramatically tossing herself on the empty chaise behind them, but only barely.
“But you sent her a note telling her not to bother you.”
Manuela shot her friend her most withering glare. “It is called a seduction game, Aurora,” she explained, abandoning all semblance of calm. She was absolutely incensed. The insolence to not respond to her note!
“So when you said you were happy to come here on your own...” Aurora began, openly teasing Manuela now, and she was too beside herself not to fall for it.
“I was clearly lying!”
A commotion on the other side of the room distracted Manuela from her impending spiral into despair. She had her back to the entrance, but Aurora’s surprised gasp and the pleased smile that followed made Manuela whip around.
“Looks like someone is here for you,” Aurora whispered softly, nudging her forward, but Manuela was frozen in place. Her heart skipping erratically in her chest when she finally saw her.
She opened her mouth, but nothing but air escaped as she watched the Duchess of Sundridge, looking to all the world like a surly, raven-haired Amazon, making her way across the room. She cut through the crowd with her decisive stride, without a single person daring to stand in her way.
Not for a second did she take her eyes off Manuela.
Around her, people talked, the music continued, as though Manuela wasn’t experiencing the single most dramatic moment of her life. Her blood thrummed, her pulse quickening as she waited like a flimsy boat at sea, about to be capsized by the storm brewing in those violet eyes.
She was ready to be taken under.
She came, she came for me, she told herself again and again as the woman she so desperately wanted was finally in front of her. The duchess was magnificent in her ruby-red topcoat, the collar standing straight up. Her suit, the same one she’d worn this afternoon, in a striking gray-and-blue houndstooth perfectly cut. This was not a woman who walked into a room unsure of her purpose. From head to toe, the Duchess of Sundridge was a study in conviction. Cora Kemp Bristol, imposing and self-assured, was a woman who knew exactly what she was about, and tonight it seemed Manuela was finally—thankfully—in her crosshairs.
“Your Grace,” she began, breathless and not caring. Why was Cora looking at Aurora?
“Miss Montalban, I have arranged for my driver to come back for you once he’s delivered us to our destination,” Cora announced in a tone that clearly left no room for argument, as she took Manuela’s gloved hand.
“Thank you.” Aurora nodded slowly, her usual combative manner replaced by open astonishment. It seemed even her Leona was cowed by the duchess’s intensity. In her crimson coat and with those violet eyes flashing, she could’ve been Agamemnon sailing the Aegean Sea poised to finally conquer the Trojans...which made Manuela a very,veryeager Troy.
“Where are we going, exactly?”
In response, Cora shot her a look that could only be described as predatory and pulled her closer so that they were flush against each other. “I’m taking you home.”
Manuela’s first impulse was to jump jubilantly for joy and dash to the door at a run, then she reminded herself what Cora had put them both through. She couldn’t just capitulate.
