Twenty-Nine
“I’m still partial to your working clothes, but this shade of yellow makes you glow,” Apollo whispered in her ear as they made their way up the Promenade des Anglais.
It was difficult to entertain his attempts at charm in the state she was in. “I can’t feel anything above my hip bone and I’m fairly certain I’ll never regain sensation in my left breast, but I’m jubilant that you find the color to your liking.” He emitted one of those rumbling sounds that made her feel like prey.
“I can’t say I recommend you begin listing body parts I have a particular fondness for.” Not even his uncouth behavior—which she usually found distressingly arousing—could shake off her dark mood. She thought perhaps arriving in Nice could finally cement the truth of their situation. That Apollo’s life required things from him she could not be part of, but instead her friends, the dress, the walk by the Mediterranean Sea, were all conspiring to do away with her better judgment.
“There have to be over a hundred people here, Apollo,” Luz Alana commented from behind, as they made their way along the promenade, which brought a welcome distraction to the gray cloud looming over Aurora’s head.
“It is quite a sight,” Evan concurred, and Aurora quietly agreed. “This promenade was built in the ’20s for all the British peers that descended on the place,” the Scot said as they came up to where the walkway curved into the sea. Aurora took a look around the wide boardwalk lined with those tall palm trees. She didn’t think she’d ever see a coastline that compared to that of her mother’s homeland in Puerto Plata, but this place was stunning in its own right.
“That’s why it’s called Promenade des Anglais.” As always, there was a contrite tinge to Evan’s voice when he spoke about the aristocracy. “We do enjoy our walks by the sea.” Luz Alana made a sympathetic sound and pushed up to kiss her husband.
“I can imagine my decision to overrun the place with some of the elite families of the Americas, Asia and Africa will only increase my popularity in the House of Lords.” Apollo beamed at the prospect, but Aurora shook her head. Why did he have to be so defiant?
“I’m delighted with our current invasion of the Riviera, but are we truly going to walk the seven miles?” This came from Manuela, who was strolling alongside them, shoulder to shoulder with Cora. The duchess wore shaded spectacles and her usual scowl.
“I’m not fond of perspiring in public.” She sent a cursory look over the splendidly azure waters of the Mediterranean Sea and tightened her hold on her lover.
“It was not an obligatory invitation,” Apollo volleyed back at the duchess, who sent him a mutinous glare from under her glasses. Aurora and Manuela sent each other amused looks at their bickering. It was not surprising that Cora and Apollo had become close, despite their efforts to make it seem otherwise.
“Who is that?” Luz Alana asked quietly, looking at an older gentleman being pushed in a wheelchair by a much younger and very scantily dressed woman.
Apollo’s grin widened when he saw the pair. “ That’s the famed Peanut King,” he told her, then sent Evan an amused look. His brother sighed.
“The Peanut King?” Luz Alana asked, eyes bright with curiosity. The older man had a weathered brown face, and even in the chair, it was obvious he’d once had a formidable form. He could’ve been an older uncle of Apollo’s.
“That’s Charles Heddle,” Evan explained. “His mother was from the Wolof people in Sierra Leone, but his father was a Scot, from the Orkneys. That’s his new wife with him.”
“His fifty-years-younger wife,” Apollo added. At that, all the women in the group whipped their heads to stare at the old man, then shuddered in unison.
“That’s disgusting,” Cora declared, with an expression that matched the sentiment.
“It might be, but the man is a genius,” Evan informed them. “He almost succeeded in shifting the economy in Sierra Leone from the slave trade to peanut farming.”
Luz’s eyes lit up at that. “Fascinating.”
Apollo nodded approvingly and waved at the old man when he passed them. “He’s also incredibly influential among Scottish burghers and some of the more progressive peers.” That was delivered with a wink that made Aurora’s heart flutter. “He’s an admirer of the way my brother and I made our father aware of my existence.”
“I might want to meet the man,” Cora relented, after sending one last look in the direction of the Peanut King.
After a while they all began to go their separate ways. The first to go were Cora and Manuela with the excuse of needing something from their carriage. From the way Manuela’s eyes lit up at Cora’s excuse, Aurora decided what the duchess had misplaced was somewhere under her lover’s skirts.
“I see Tanaka, brother,” Evan announced a moment later, tipping his hat in the direction of two gentlemen descending from a carriage. “He’s the Japanese emperor’s man,” Evan explained when Aurora sent him a confused look.
“Make sure you invite them to the fete tomorrow,” Apollo reminded his brother, who was already headed for the man’s carriage with Luz Alana in tow. Which left only the two of them. As if people weren’t already gaping at Aurora, wondering who the duke’s companion was.
“That is a very deep sigh,” Apollo muttered, as he tightened his hold on her.
She looked up at him, and her heart constricted just at the sight of his face. The sun was in his eyes and he was squinting at her. He looked young and capable, the kind of man people should want to lead them. The kind of man any woman would be glad to build a life with.
She would’ve, if her own life were different.
“I’m thinking of this brave new world you’re attempting to forge,” she told him, instead of casting up the muddle of conflicting feelings roiling inside her. Apollo, who could see too much, gave her a dubious look. “I’m serious. There’s such potential here, to do good. You could have such influence on so many, and I…” She didn’t want to be a hindrance. She didn’t want to do to him what she’d done to her mother and alter the course of his life. She didn’t want to be greedy.
“You could do it all with me,” he told her, unmoving in his certainty of her. If only she had his faith. “You’re hungry,” he declared into the taut silence between them.
“You won’t change my mind with food,” she protested with a laugh, but he was already walking toward a small stand on the side of the street. There was a sign on it that read Socca.
“These are a specialty here,” he informed her. “Chickpea-flour pancakes.” She had no idea if that sounded good or not, but she knew better than to resist him trying to feed her.
There was much to yearn for when it came to a man like Apollo César Sinclair Robles, she thought as she watched him stride toward the unassuming stand. His wide shoulders, that lone, unruly curl that always ended on his forehead. Most of all, she would miss the way he looked at her with those dark eyes. Like he craved her and cherished her. Like he saw something in her no one else could see, not even herself.
He was talking with the gentleman making the pancakes when an older man and a tall, slender woman with a parasol approached him. She only recognized them when the lady lowered the sun barrier and beamed up at Apollo.
Graziella Patino looked perfect by his side. Poised, wealthy, free of any scandal that could mar Apollo’s chances. He watched her speak animatedly at him, like she had at the salon, while Apollo smiled politely. Don Simón observed them with the air of a man looking at a critical investment. She ought to go, let him fully claim the life he’d fought so hard for.
“She’d be the perfect duchess for him.” The voice came from somewhere behind her.
When Aurora turned, she came face-to-face with Apollo’s aunt Jimena. She was as elegantly dressed as ever. The diamonds around the older woman’s neck and dangling from her ears shone brightly in the autumn sun, but the light in her eyes was significantly dimmed. Still, no one would suspect she’d had her world turned upside down merely days earlier.
Aurora had always considered that kind of stoicism a virtue, but she was beginning to wonder if it was worth the toll it took. She expected to find venom in the older woman’s gaze, or at least recrimination. Pity was much worse.
“Dona Jimena.” She hesitated, unsure what to say, then she remembered that despite the circumstances, this was the mother of a patient. “How is Juliana?” She’d wanted to see the girl when they arrived at the villa but was told she was resting.
“She is feeling stronger, she’s remorseful, embarrassed and scared, but she’s healthy and that’s all that matters.” Dona Jimena’s voice broke for a moment, but with two breaths she’d gathered herself. The raw pain in the woman’s eyes eased Aurora’s worries about the girl’s future. Juliana’s mother might not be happy, but she would stand by her. “I’d like to thank you for what you did for her.”
“You don’t need to thank me, I’m glad I was able to help,” Aurora whispered, quickly feeling uncomfortable when Apollo’s aunt continued to stare at her in silence.
“Philip told me about you, you know?” Aurora didn’t respond, certain Dona Jimena had more to say. Apollo was still smiling at the Patinos, but she could almost sense he was looking in her direction. “He didn’t say he’d been involved,” she explained, her mouth twisting into a bitter grimace. “He said you’d be a liability for my nephew, that you could hurt his ascent into the ton.”
“I see.” It was the only thing she could muster in that moment. Besides, what more was there to say. Philip would know about ruination.
“It’s not that I judge you for what you did,” Dona Jimena claimed, as Aurora’s heart hammered in her chest. “In a way, I admire you.” Her face suddenly felt cold, like a sheet of ice was hardening around her, while Apollo’s aunt continued to talk. “You refused to be forced into a marriage with a scoundrel like Philip, even if it ruined your name. It was brave, bold.”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying,” Aurora muttered, even though she was fairly certain she did.
“I am grateful to you, for your discretion, for saving Juliana, but you made your choice,” the older woman said unflinchingly. “You have your independence, your profession.” She lifted a hand in her nephew’s direction and Aurora could see the woman’s pride. “He’s the first of ours to have this power and position. You must know that a woman like you would hurt his chances.” Her eyes were hard, almost angry. But Aurora didn’t think it was directed at her. Maybe at the world, at men who forced women into such choices. “If he marries you, it will ruin everything.”
She flinched at the Dona Jimena’s words, which hurt all the more because they were not delivered unkindly.
“I don’t want to be duchess.” The words sounded like a lie. Because the truth was, she might not want the title, but she wanted the man.
Dona Jimena clucked her tongue and turned to look at Apollo. “Perhaps not, but you want him, and I know he wants you.” Despair tore at her, because she could not keep her heart from soaring at hearing the words. She could also not deny the truth. “He needs a duchess like her.” She nodded toward Graziella, who had her delicate hand on Apollo’s forearm without noticing his regard was fixed somewhere else. “Someone who’s not dragging scandal behind. I know I sound like a hypocrite, but I would say the same thing to Juliana if she was in your shoes.” The widow shrugged, then sighed wearily. “I understand the desire for autonomy, but that comes at a price.”
The words were like lashes against her face.
“I know you were given a rotten hand.” This time it was Aurora who looked away, not wanting to face the pity on the woman’s face. “But our survival depends on facing our reality. None of us can have it all, Doctora Montalban, and neither you or my nephew can fix the aristocracy.”
She considered the older woman and wondered what she’d had to negotiate to be standing here at the Promenade des Anglais watching her nephew, a duke, when her own mother had been born a slave.
Dona Jimena was right. Why was her personal happiness more important than Apollo’s future?
She’d sealed her fate at fifteen when she’d risked scandal to free herself from Philip. She could never regret that choice. But now she was trying to break the rules. She knew more than most just how few choices women who went against society’s norms ended up with. She’d had the privilege and resources to make a life for herself, and that had to be enough.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, swallowing down her tears.
“We all deserve more,” Dona Jimena said, not without sympathy, reaching to squeeze her hand. “I hope someday we’re able to get it.”
“Tia, I didn’t know you planned to come.” Apollo’s booming voice jolted both women, who flinched at the sound. He was holding what looked like an overcooked crepe in a cone paper.
“Hola, querido,” his aunt called in an overly bright voice. Her heart broke at the sight of his easy smile, which turned into a frown from whatever he saw on their faces.
“Is Juliana all right?” he asked the moment he reached them.
The older woman’s lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears, but her face split into an adoring smile as she looked at her nephew. “She’s fine,” she said with a nod, then looked at Aurora. “Thanks to the doctor.” Apollo’s own face split into another one of those smiles that pierced her soul.
“She’s quite magnificent,” he said huskily while her heart shattered into a million pieces.
She took a deep breath, shivering from the cold air brought in by the mistral and choking on unshed tears. “I’m a bit cold, and I have a headache,” she said, unable to control the chattering of her teeth. Goodness, since when had she become so dramatic?
Since you fell in love.
Instantly Apollo came to the rescue. “Come, I’ll take you home.” He put an arm around her shoulder, then turned to his aunt. “Will you come with us, Tia?”
“I’ll return with the Patinos,” she told her nephew. Apollo sent her a questioning look, but she waved him off. “Go, mijo, take care of the doctora.”
“Vamos, Fiera.” Without caring who saw him, Apollo tucked her to his side all the way to the carriage while Dona Jimena looked on.