Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

CORA

"I cannot tolerate living with Lysander for one more minute," Cora fumed to her sister-in-law one tense week later. With the holidays fully over and February looming, business had started up in earnest and the bank's fate hung by a thread.

"The duke can be trying," Annalise said diplomatically. "But surely he isn't cruel?"

"Not to Titi." Nor to her, in truth. Lysander treated her as any arrogant older brother might treat his younger sibling—patronizing at best. "He caught her sleeping in his slipper yesterday. He stomped away and has grumbled endlessly about dog hair sticking to his socks ever since. All we do is bicker about my pet."

Annalise smiled, which only annoyed Cora further.

"I've caught him slipping her table scraps, even though I've told him not to. She's gained a full pound since we moved into Gryphon House. Her little jackets barely fit anymore. I'm going to have to make her new ones," Cora groused. At least it would be something useful to do.

"Teach the duke to knit. Maybe it'll take his mind off more stressful things."

Cora laughed for the first time in days. "How adorable would it be to see my perpetually glowering half-brother take up knitting for a small dog?"

"Delightful." Annalise stroked Titi absently. "Absolutely delightful." Her face fell. "I needed a bit of delight."

"Are things not improving?" Cora hardly dared to ask. Her sister-in-law shook her head.

"If anything, conditions are deteriorating." Hesitantly, with her slim hand resting on Titi's back, she said, "Actually, I have an ulterior motive in coming here today."

Cora didn't like the way her stomach dropped in apprehension. "You didn't stop by for my tea and biscuits?"

Annalise smiled gently.

"Has Eryx told you about Wentworth's offer?"

"He Whose Name Shall Not Be Spoken approached him about the bank?"

"Yes."

"Whatever it is, I don't trust it. That man is a snake."

Annalise smiled mirthlessly. "You are not alone in your opinion. At first, Eryx laughed in his face. I understand you have some history with this gentleman?"

Cora snorted. "Gideon Wentworth is no gentleman. He is the most loathsome toad in London."

"Only London?"

"The entire world. I amend my statement."

"Tell me what happened?" Annalise asked.

Cora hated revisiting that night, but her friend's soft question didn't come from nosiness. Annalise had never been part of the ton . All the pent-up resentment and anger inside Cora came spilling out like the contents of a shaken bottle of champagne.

"He is the man who ruined me," she began.

Annalise's brows arched high.

"Not like that," Cora hastened to clarify. "I was only a few weeks into my one and only misbegotten Season." She gulped past a sudden tightness in her throat. "At Lady Pindell's debutante promenade, I was invited to give a recital before the ton. Three dukes, a prince, seven earls, and Jenny Lind herself were in attendance."

"The Swedish Nightingale?"

Cora's chin bobbed, her throat tight with tears at the memory of the last night she'd ever felt beautiful and talented. When it seemed like she had a sparkling future within her grasp. She was supposed to be past this. It wasn't supposed to hurt anymore.

"I imagine the pressure was immense," said Annalise sympathetically.

"It was. I prepared for weeks. My fingers ached from so much piano practice. I bathed them in ice water to ensure I could perform flawlessly. I even received a standing ovation from Miss Lind herself."

"What went wrong?"

Cora tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear.

"I agreed to an encore after a break for refreshments. Any song, the more challenging the better. Lady Pindell was delighted. She chose the piece from the audience suggestions, and we all left the room. Except for Gideon Wentworth."

Even now, all these years later, fury burned within her.

"I barely knew who he was. Only that there was a tall and broody man who reminded me of Lysander. The churlish way he stared at me all evening that made me uncomfortable. Nothing more."

Her Season had been anxiety-producing. Her father pressed her hard to make it a success. She'd wanted to impress her estranged half-brother, too. Eryx had not yet begun building his bank, and seeing the way people cut him while fawning over Lysander made Cora furious.

And then there was the Prussian prince, Leopold, who fawned over her so charmingly that there were whispers he meant to offer for her. She found his attention predatory and insincere, but that wasn't a reason to turn down a good match. If he did offer, she would have little choice but to accept. Her father would insist.

But it was Gideon Wentworth who'd made her feel truly hunted.

"Wentworth threatened you?" Annalise asked, wide-eyed.

Not quite. Cora had never been able to adequately describe the sensation of his stare. She'd felt like she was eyeing a wolf in a forest, unsure whether he would attack or move on to easier prey.

The way he'd looked at her made her feel like she might be a wolf, too.

But young ladies didn't make wild analogies. They married for money and connections, not raw animal spirits. She'd tried to ignore him. He never approached her. He simply watched from a distance.

"No. He never spoke to me."

Confusion inscribed Annalise's delicate features.

"When we reconvened, I sat down to play the piece we had agreed upon. I knew from the moment my fingertips hit the keys that it wasn't the one I'd been led to expect. It was a simple tune. No challenge whatsoever."

She hesitated, twisting a button on her sleeve and not meeting Annalise's empathetic gaze. That was when she should have spoken up. Instead, she'd gamely persevered. Eleven years of self-flagellation for that fateful decision. She forced herself to continue her story.

"Then people started singing. Men. All men. One of the dukes, most of the earls—half the audience, really." At least Prince Leopold hadn't joined in. She was grateful for that, though he hadn't done anything to stop his friends from laughing. He'd appeared rather put out. "The women sat there tittering as they belted out the lewdest song you can possibly imagine."

"About a whore, naturally," Annalise rolled her eyes. "What did you do?"

"I swear my soul left my body. I panicked. I couldn't seem to stop playing, but I couldn't comprehend what I was hearing. They were laughing at me. All of them. The entire room."

Lady Pindell and Lysander had been the ones to intervene, which made Cora seem complicit in the prank. She had finally stopped, mid-tune, slamming a wrong note, knocking back the pianoforte stool, lifting her skirts and exiting at a dead run. In the one shocked glance she spared for the audience, she saw two men slapping Gideon Wentworth on the back as if he'd achieved a real victory by stealthily switching the sheets.

He had to have planned it. How else would he have had the music ready to hand?

Later, she heard that he'd been put up to it by his loathsome friends, a rationalization she might have accepted if not for the fact that the man was nine years older than she. A grown man had no excuse for pulling such a nasty, pointless prank.

He'd ruined her. Deliberately. For no reason that she had ever been able to discern.

Cora would never forgive the man. Not if he got on his knees and begged her. She huffed a laugh. Wentworth was too proud to beg anyone for anything. Ever.

"What an arse," Annalise held out a handkerchief, which Cora refused. She had vowed never to cry about that incident again, and she wouldn't break that vow now.

"It's long in the past." She tried to wave off the story she'd just told. "But I wouldn't trust Wentworth as far as I could throw him. What was his offer?"

"He is willing to take a stake in the bank, on one condition." Annalise held her gaze. "You must agree to marry him."