Chapter 18 Queen Rook Pawn
Queen Rook Pawn
Cora bursts into Alice’s private study without knocking, momentum and fury twin stallions hurtling her into the center of
the room.
Alice pushes back from her desk, all sure mannerisms, carefully calculated gestures. “By all means. Enter.”
“No, I will not be made to feel like a fool by you! Every time I attempt to speak with you, there’s something more important, and surely
there can be nothing more important than this.”
Cora brandishes her new engagement ring as if she’s gesturing with a very different finger. Closing the door behind her, she
begins pacing alongside Alice’s settee on the far wall. “Not that this is news to you. You obviously saw what happened at
the ball.”
“Of course. Congratulations.”
Alice coolly resumes writing—in the notebook Cora gave her for Christmas. Is she using it as a ledger?
“Need I remind you that is good news—”
“Harry wants to get married right away. Right away, at his father’s estate. He mentioned a wedding Easter weekend, which obviously changes everything.”
This finally stops Alice’s hand.
She looks up again, her face controlled, but Cora can see the glimmer of a frown. “You’re certain that’s what he said?”
“I’m certain I didn’t hallucinate, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Alice places her pencil down, sighs thoughtfully, and stands, positioning herself at the window. Outside, the huge elms lining
Madison are still blanketed in snow, the streetlamps turning the winter wonderland luminous, all of Manhattan coated in a
gilded shimmer. “I don’t consider that a problem.”
Cora shakes her head. “Whatever do you—”
“Marry him,” Alice says, turning. “There, fixed. Actually, now that I think about it, this is better. Harry will feel duty
bound to invest, and he’ll have no reason to suspect your influence if you’re already his wife. We can proceed as planned
without worrying about any last-minute jitters on his part. Right on the heels of your celebration, in fact.”
Cora feels a mounting pressure between her temples, a building urge to roar. “You do realize this will make me a married woman,
Alice. Essentially ruining all prospects of me ever having a normal life. Of being able to marry again, not to mention ever
showing my face in New York—”
Alice quirks an eyebrow. “Please tell me you weren’t expecting to do that after we scam most of the railroad industry. And
marrying again? I didn’t take you for a sentimentalist.”
“It isn’t . . . sentiment, it’s life!” Cora blurts, voice shaking. The temper flaring in her belly now too, building like a low roll, threatening to boil. “Real
life!”
Alice shrugs one shoulder. Infuriating, emotionless woman.
She’ll have to meet her where she lives. Encased in steel.
“This isn’t acceptable.” Cora crosses her arms. “I won’t do it. No.”
Cora sees the flash of surprise in Alice’s eyes at the word, and feels a tiny thrill of satisfaction.
Alice takes a swift step forward. Cora resists the urge to flinch.
“Need I remind you, Miss O’Malley, that when we made this deal, you agreed to do whatever I asked, whenever I asked. And in exchange, you would be handsomely compensated. Do you not remember that?”
“Yes, I remember that, but this is going too far, Alice. I am a member of this team and I deserve a say. The stakes have changed!”
“And yet the game hasn’t,” Alice says icily. “We will do whatever is necessary to make May the first happen. And since Easter
falls before May, you will walk down the aisle with that man and you will say ‘I do,’ and before you ask, yes, you will consummate the marriage. Or . . .” Her expression defrosts a degree. “Figure out some plausible reason not to. I’ll leave
that to your own discretion.”
Cora’s head goes swimmy. Perhaps she is actually hallucinating. “Alice—”
“My God, Cora, enough. This matter is settled.”
“I honestly can’t believe you’d do this to me,” Cora says hollowly. “After everything.”
“I don’t care what you believe.” Alice snaps a laugh. “You wanted me to teach you? This is me teaching you. From the very
first day, I was completely transparent: I am in charge, and you simply listen. You may go.”
“And you may go to—”
Cora has at least the presence of mind to bite back the rest of those choice words. She jumps up from the settee instead, flying toward the door, where she nearly barrels into Béatrice and Dagmar, who stand there like mismatched gargoyles, horrified by what they’ve plainly overheard.
Cora elbows past, barreling toward her room, where she slams the door and crumples onto the bed, finally succumbing to the
tears that have been building.
She knew Alice was capable of anything. It was part of Alice’s allure, the very reason Cora appealed to the woman in the first
place. A confidence player who knows no limits. Has no scruples. A canny mentor who could take Cora under her wing and actually
make things happen for her. A huge score, a better life, a fresh chance of getting back her home.
But she cannot deny the truth any longer. Alice isn’t her mentor, just as she herself doesn’t amount to a player or accomplice or anything but a pawn in her hardened boss’s game.
Cora has learned nothing since that fateful day when the men from Ross & Calhoun gleefully waltzed in and upended her life. She’s no better than her
father.
Just a fool under the thumb of a sham, heartless duchess.