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“Stop torturing yourself, mi amor,” her aunt pleaded.
“But if I stop now, if I let them have the railway, then what was all this for?”
“The only thing that matters is what you do from now on. Are you going to let men like that take even more from you?” Tia Osiris held an iciness in her voice that Cora had never heard before. “Are you going to let someone who doesn’t deserve her take the woman you love?” Her aunt’s words sent a lightning storm through her veins. What was she doing? Crying helplessly as if she didn’t have choices, when the woman she loved could be lost to her forever.
“This could all go sideways,” she said, feeling her strength come back now that she had a clear goal in her sights. If she lost Manuela it wouldn’t be because she didn’t let her know exactly what she felt for her.
“Go fight for her,” Alfie begged. “I can make my own way in London. You’ve given me everything I need to do it.”
The clock chimed then. In mere hours Manuela would be walking down the aisle to seal her fate.
A stab of pain cut through her as Cora recalled the way Manuela had looked at her when she’d come to see her parents. The hope, the love in her eyes.
“It might already be too late,” she said to no one in particular as she stared at the invitation.
“You are strong enough to face whatever it is you find there, querida,” Tia Osiris said, as she walked up to her again. This time her eyes only held unflagging love.
“If I stop this wedding, we will never recover from the scandal.” It had to be said. She looked at Alfie who seemed utterly unfazed by the prospect. “We will be outcasts.”
The Duke of Sundridge stood up to his full height and pulled her to him. “They need us too much to cast us out, you made sure of that. And they’re all too scared of you,” he told her, making her smile despite her nerves. “If there is scandal, we can weather it, but I cannot watch you do this to yourself anymore. You have fulfilled my promise to Father, to me, a hundred times over. Besides, what I plan to do at the House of Lords will make me unpopular enough without your help.” She rarely gave herself credit for what she did, always looking toward the next hill to climb, the next feat to conquer, but this morning, feeling the strength of the man she’d raised, Cora felt proud.
“Your carriage is waiting to take you where you need to be, Corazón,” her aunt told her as she was pushed out of the room.
She let out a trembling breath, shaking her head helplessly. They were right. About all of it, they were right. Like the last time, there would be scandal, but the difference was that this time it would all be worth it. Manuela was worth it.
“I hope I get there in time.”
Twenty-Four
“Stop looking at melike that, Aurora,” Manuela grumbled for the hundredth time that morning. It was surprising how easy it was to maintain one’s composure once your heart stopped working. One thing she’d discovered in the last two days was that it was so much easier to live when one could not feel at all. No agonizing over or guessing at another’s emotions, or your own. None of it mattered when you were dead inside.
“I’m worried for you,” Aurora confessed miserably. Manuela could not even muster up sympathy for her friend’s rare admission of distress. Aurora had spent the last day and a half begging Manuela not to marry. Felix being present had not interrupted her pleading in the least, which had been somewhat morbidly amusing to witness. But now, when Manuela only wanted it all over with, it was beginning to grate.
“Can you help with the train of the dress?” she asked, looking at herself in the mirror. The gown, which had been delivered from the House of Worth while she was in Edinburgh and had not been unboxed until the evening before, fit her perfectly. She’d chosen a pale pink satin with a spray of ecru silk roses that ran from the waist down to the hem. The collar was modest, made of a panel of delicate ivory lace that reached the base of her neck. She’d even agreed to a bustle which cascaded into a long train. It was the ideal bridal gown, elegant and whimsical. The sight of it made Manuela want to cry.
There was a knock on the door. Manuela froze, thinking it was her mother. They’d barely spoken to each other after Cora’s visit, and Manuela had forbidden her to come anywhere near her today. That didn’t mean Consuelo Galvan de Caceres hadn’t tried to bully her way into the room where Manuela was getting dressed. But if she was going to go through with this, she refused to pretend anymore. She would not make anything easy for her parents. The only thing that gave her any solace was the prospect of reminding them, at every opportunity, how callous and horrid they were.
“And what is he doing here?” Manuela pointed at Apollo, who had self-designated as one of the bridal assistants.
“Don’t ask me,” Aurora cried, throwing her hands up. “I can’t stand the sight of him.” Apollo seemed to think Aurora’s insult was hilarious, and after a hearty laugh and more than a few heated stares, he turned his attention back to Manuela.
“My brother thought you might need reinforcements.” He sent a pointed look to a miserable-looking Aurora. “I can’t say I disagree.”
Manuela narrowed her eyes at him and peeked from behind the curtain into the small chapel. To her relief she saw there were barely any people sitting in the pews. Felix’s parents were deceased. His only relative was a sister in Boston who was to be present at their wedding in Venezuela but given the change in plans was not here today. The handful of guests in attendance consisted of Doña Amadita and her husband and a couple other of her cronies, who were probably there just to collect gossip to disseminate among every Spanish speaker in Paris the moment this fiasco was done.
Felix stood there waiting, benign and impassive in his morning tails. He had not mentioned the duchess or anything else that had occurred that night at the Charost Palais. He was willing to ignore almost anything if it meant getting what he wanted. Her parents weren’t much better. Since she’d announced that she would marry Felix after all, they’d both pretended the visit from Cora had never occurred.
In truth, she could barely remember what had happened that night. Once Cora had informed her that she had no intention of staying in Paris, that her plans didn’t include her, Manuela had mentally fallen apart. It had not been easy to face the reality that, when it came down to it, for Cora—like her parents, like Felix—Manuela was nothing but the means to an end.
Cora wanted Manuela, may have even loved her, but her business came first. She’d once again been nothing more than a pretty accessory. If she was going to be that, she may as well do some good in the process. The women in the collective would, in their own way, fulfil her abuela’s dream in a way she never would.
“Manuela, please think this through,” Aurora pleaded as the organist began to play. “Your happiness still matters. Your parents don’t deserve you sacrificing yourself like this.”
She didn’t want to think about her happiness. She didn’t want to think at all.
“I know that Cora hurt you, but you can’t throw yourself away like this.” The desperation, the urgency in her friend’s voice barely registered. Aurora didn’t understand that Manuela’s heart was frozen now. “There is still time.”
She didn’t need time. She needed to get this over with.
