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“Querida, I thought you’d been nabbed by a satyr in that maze!” the man joked, as he pulled Manuela to him with the air of someone who had paid handsomely for the privilege. A noise of distress escaped her, as she fought the urge to rip Manuela away from him. “You look lovely, my dear.” His hands were on Manuela’s cheek, his finger touching the exact place Cora had kissed minutes before.
He was so close, too close.
Every time he laid a finger on Manuela, Cora felt as though her mind would unravel.
“Seems the checks I’ve been sending to half the dressmakers in Paris have been well worth it. You are a vision.” Cora bit her tongue not to scream.
“What are you doing here, Felix?” Manuela finally choked out. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“Did you not miss me, darling? Or was spending my money occupying all your time?” Cora’s spine went up at the disrespectful comment. This man was a buffoon. Was she really going to let this happen? Was she going to allow Manuela to throw her life away on this weasel?
“Of course I missed you,” Manuela managed, even as she visibly recoiled from his touch. “I just didn’t expect to see you until I got to London.”
She was like a rag doll in the cage of his arms. Her limbs hung limply, defenseless. Fury, possessiveness, and raw, toxic jealousy ran through Cora’s veins. With half of the railway consortium in the room, she was as trapped by circumstances as Manuela was in that bastard’s arms.
Despite that, it took everything in her power not to scratch his eyes out when he dared to kiss Manuela’s nose.
“Your parents are here too, darling,” he said, amiably, either unaware or intentionally ignoring Manuela’s distress. “They are very eager to see you.” The man seemed completely unaware of her state. Did he not notice that she was in distress? That Manuela didn’t like to have her hair touched?
“My parents? They never said they were coming to Paris. Neither did you.” Manuela finally tugged her hands out of his grasp. The movement was so sharp that she stumbled forward. For once Manuela’s easy, casual manner was gone. That ever-present shield of a smile and flirtatious humor evaporated.
Finally, it appeared to dawn on him that his fiancée was not as pleased to see him as she claimed and his benign expression suddenly turned hard. His grip on her arm tightened, his eyes narrowing maliciously.
“It seems you’re under the impression that I need to explain myself to you, querida.” His tone was once again amiable, but there was a menacing undertone that spurred Cora into action.
“Manuela, you haven’t introduced us.” She moved forward, reaching for her beloved—she couldn’t bear to see Felix touching her for another second.
“Yes, of course.” Manuela nodded woodenly, without meeting Cora’s gaze. “Felix, this is the Duchess of Sundridge, she’s been my—” Manuela pressed her lips firmly together as she swallowed again and again. Cora watched helplessly as the woman she loved stood there, eyes downcast, engulfed in misery. How could she ever think this would end well? That they were headed to anything other than this agony? “She’s been my guide through some of the art world here in Paris,” she finally got out. Her voice was surprisingly strong, but when she lifted her dry eyes to Cora they screamed, I thought we’d have more time. Felix, still blessedly unaware of the drama unfolding under his nose, bowed and kissed Cora’s hand with all the finesse of a bull running through the streets of Pamplona.
There had been a time in Cora’s life when daring to be who she was felt like an endless web of traps and pitfalls. And so, she’d worked very hard protect herself from most of the dangers that could befall her. She had more money than she could spend in four lifetimes. She had earned a place in the innermost circle of the people who ruled most of Europe. For ten years she’d prepared for almost any potential disaster, and here she still was, undone. Ready to give almost anything for a sword she could run through every rope that kept Manuela tied to this man. To her parents.
But she wouldn’t, because doing so would ruin them both.
“Your Grace, how kind of you to entertain my beloved.” Kingsley was much too unrefined to conceal his curiosity, but if there were things he knew about Cora, he did not speak of them then.
She had to leave. She was so close to destroying everything. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Kingsley. We’ve tried to take very good care of your lady.”
Aurora and Alfie both winced at her words, while Manuela stood there like a salt statue.
“I had no idea you’d made such fashionable friendships in Paris,” Kingsley told Manuela, sounding impressed. Cora wanted nothing more than to slap him across the face. “If I had known, I’d have secured a larger church for the ceremony.”
“Ceremony?” Manuela asked at the same time that Aurora clasped a hand over her mouth. Cora could only guess it was to stave off a scream.
“Well, that was part of the surprise.” Kingsley’s face shone with excitement as if he could not see Manuela’s ashen expression.
“Your parents and I talked it over and decided it would be silly not to take advantage and have our wedding in the most romantic city in the world.” His tone was jovial enough, but his eyes were flinty as he looked at Manuela. That’s when Cora realized the man enjoyed toying with his fiancée. Enjoyed reminding her how little agency she had in even the most minor details of her future. “I arrived a few days ago and managed to get a special license to marry here in Paris through the Venezuelan embassy.”
No. No. No.
Felix continued to talk, unaware of how dangerously close he was to being assaulted by a duchess. “The French are refreshingly accommodating if one is willing to part with enough francs.” Manuela’s legs seem to give out on her and Felix held her tighter, his lips tipping up. “I knew you’d be delighted, but not that you’d swoon from excitement, my love.” Cora’s vision blurred for a second as reality descended on her like a pile of bricks.
Manuela’s throat moved as though she was holding back a roar and Aurora seemed ready to commit murder. Cora couldn’t breathe. Something stung behind her sternum with such intensity she was overtaken by a coughing fit. Her eyes burned, she couldn’t see. There had to be a way out of this. What was all this money for? What was all this influence for, if she couldn’t stop this?
“Cora?” Manuela’s panicked voice brought her mind out of the depths it was drowning in, but looking at her love with that man at her back only made things worse. She was going to fall apart. She was going to go down on her knees and beg, just like she’d done the last time. Ten years of atoning only to once again break her promise to Benedict.
“I have to go,” she heard herself say, smiling until she thought the muscles would snap. “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Kingsley.”
This was not the first time in the past decade Cora had looked the other way in order to protect herself. Until today she’d never despised herself for it. “I trust that you can see Miss Caceres Galvan home.” The words tasted like poison. A searing, hot pain shot through her chest when she saw Manuela brush a tear from her cheek.
