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“Cora, I can’t play these games anymore,” Manuela said tiredly, confused. “What say could I possibly have about who comes into your gentleman’s club?” She sounded so peevish, but her eyes were wary. Like she thought that Cora had come here to hurt her again. God, what a mess she’d made of everything.
“You would have a say,” she began, risking yet another step closer, “because as of this morning this building, along with all my remaining shares in the South American Railways, have been passed to your artists’ collective.”
Manuela’s eyes widened comically, round as saucers, but she didn’t say a word. She examined Cora, her eyes darting over her as if looking for clues about what this all meant. The Manuela from before would’ve exploded in cries of delight, showered Cora with kisses at the gesture, but this one was more careful.
From this close under the light of the chandelier she could see shadows under her lover’s eyes. A tightness around her mouth that hadn’t been there before. The carefree wild girl was gone, and in its place was a woman who took up space differently. Tempered in the fire of what she’d given up.
“Why would you do that?” she asked at length, fierce brown eyes flashing, not giving Cora an inch. There were no easy smiles forthcoming—every single one would have to be earned with truth and courage.
“Because there is nothing I can think of doing with my life that matters more than spending it with you,” she breathed out, not caring that her voice broke. Not caring that her shoulders were not perfectly straight. She watched as Manuela’s face softened, her eyes widening with something like tenderness and Cora hoped, prayed it was so.
“But your companies, your work is everything to you,” Manuela hedged, cautious, reluctant to believe. Cora remembered the words she’d said the morning of the wedding. What Cora had done to her had taught her to fear. And she saw it now, the wariness. The apprehension. She’d put those shadows there and she would do whatever it took to replace them with light.
“Youare the most important thing in my life.” Manuela inhaled sharply, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know I need to earn your faith in me, my love,” her voice trembled, her eyes blurred, but she carried on. “But if you let me—” She took Manuela’s hands. Smiled through tears as she rubbed her finger over a smudge of paint on the edge of her glove. Pressed her lips to an open palm. “If you let me, I will love you without fear, in the open air, with my loudest voice, for as long as I live.”
“Cora...” Manuela whispered, and the longing in it echoed the one in her own heart. But after a moment, the steel returned to those brown eyes. “You will get bored after three months, and you’ll resent me.”
She shook her head in denial, needing to make her see that everything had changed. “I have plenty to keep me occupied. It’s my priorities that have changed.”
The night of the wedding, after she’d broken everything, she’d gone home and begun making a plan with Alfie and Tia Osiris by her side. They had been delighted by the news that she’d finally found a reason to slow down, to shift her priorities to doing things that would make her happy. It turned out that within the web of businesses and investments she’d taken on over the years, she’d amassed a respectable amount of philanthropic interests that she was merely supporting financially but now looked forward to being actively involved in.
Apollo had remained true to his word and had smoothly taken over her interests in the railway, and in a matter of a few telegrams, the construction of the last portion of track-laying was underway. Not one of her associates in the consortium had sent her a message expressing their regrets that she was no longer involved. As Tia Osiris and Manuela had told her, they never cared about her presence, just the money she made for them.
“This building was the last of my business interests to be dissolved. I will be taking over the philanthropic efforts Alfie oversaw, since he is now occupying his place in the House of Lords.” Manuela’s eyes widened, her fingers tightening around Cora’s.
“How is Alfred?”
“Giving all those old windbags in Parliament hell and raising some of his own.” That rewarded her with a smile.
“He learned from the best.” Cora could not quite tell if it was a compliment or not, but so far she had not been sent packing, and that had to mean something. “I appreciate the help for the collective, but I hope you didn’t put any of that money or this building in my name. I do not need it,” Manuela admitted, humble and magnificently dignified all at once. “I am faring well enough,” she assured Cora.
“I heard you were thriving.”
A blush of pink settled on those gorgeous round cheeks, and something that had been wild and restless for weeks settled in Cora, seeing that her princess still bloomed like a flower under her praise. It was just a different kind of validation Manuela was after now.
“I have my work at Pasquale’s, where I am compensated well, and I’ve secured a few commissions that pay handsomely.” A rueful smile appeared on her lips. “I won’t be ordering gowns at Worth’s anytime soon, but I don’t exactly have much use for them these days.”
Cora recalled the night Manuela told her she’d marry Felix because she liked pretty things and didn’t care enough about pride to deny herself those luxuries. That woman was gone now, and the one in her place could probably teach Cora a lesson or two in fortitude.
“Are you truly ready to leave your old life behind, Cora?”
She let the question hang in the air for a moment as she considered what to say. She could confess her love and be done with it. Throw herself to her knees and beg, like she had once before. But that didn’t seem enough.
“The first day we met, I came to you with an offer, and you countered with one that changed my life,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “I have a new offer for you.”
Manuela let out a long exhale, her eyes still guarded, but her body thawing somewhat. “I don’t want balls at pleasure palaces. I don’t want baubles,” she said still skittish but standing a little closer now. “I let the shine of pretty things smother my own light for too long. I don’t want to be anyone’s trophy. I won’t be the pretty, silly thing on anyone’s arm.”
Of all the regrets she had with Manuela, allowing her even one second to think that was all she’d been worth to Cora was one of the biggest.
“What you started here with Cassandra and the other women...that’s the kind of legacy that matters. You were right about my priorities. I thought that if I leaned into ambition, if I pushed myself into the rooms where women were not allowed, my presence would be enough for these powerful men to recognize that we all belong there. But the truth is that I was selfish. The moment I pushed my way inside, I spent all my energy devising ways to stay, not in helping others get in.” She’d been such a fool, blinded by arrogance. “The truth is we win by seeing each other thrive. Settling with the crumbs of the power they’re willing to part with is admitting defeat. I want more than crumbs.”
“I want to believe this is real. I want you to be really mine.” One of Manuela’s hands tightened on Cora’s back, as she voiced the words Cora wanted more than anything to hear.
“I did bring one more thing to try to convince you,” she said, as she pulled the last weapon in her arsenal out of her pocket. For a moment Manuela looked confused, but then she opened the small folder paper, her face scrunched in concentration as she examined it in the low light of the room. Cora held her breath as she waited, wondering if Manuela would be unamused by the gesture, but then a miracle happened. The radiant smile that Cora had desperately missed appeared on Manuela’s lips. How could she have lived thirty-five years without this light? How could she ever think even for a moment that she could go back to the shadows?
“This is absolutely terrible, Corazón,” her princesa griped as she held the paper in her hands.
“Absolutely horrific,” Cora echoed, while hope began to bubble up, small but mighty, in her chest.
