Chapter Two
GRACE FALTERED, losing her balance just enough to almost fall into the water.
“Careful,” Theodore said roughly, catching her.
She regained her footing and shoved him away, sitting down roughly on the seat.
“I thought you were meant to be his best friend Evan,” she said sharply.
He frowned, his eyes flashing. “And I thought you would be Lillie,” he retorted.
The gondolier pushed off into the glittering lights of the lagoon, and Grace dug her fingernails into her crossed arms. She was going to kill Oliver.
“Why did he say you were his closest friend?” she stewed. “He didn’t even know you six months ago.”
Theodore snorted. “Things have a tendency to change, you know. I moved to St. Louis, and he’s shown me about.”
“Perhaps things have a tendency to change, but certain people don’t,” she said bitterly.
She narrowed her eyes, kicking herself. If only she had told Oliver what kind of a man Theodore really was last winter.
Well, that was one more secret that would need to be revealed before the week was over.
She relished the way Oliver would react and could practically see him stripping off his coat and flexing his fists, the way he had done many times before to come to her and Lillie’s aid.
She sighed and slipped off her gloves—Lillie’s gloves—which had been splattered by water.
“Still a Covington, then, I see?” Theodore asked cruelly, gesturing to her naked ring finger. He swallowed hard, the handsome mark on his jaw darkening.
She clasped her hands together and flushed. “You’re still unattached as well? How shocking,” she said, turning away.
She couldn’t believe how even now she remembered the way his strong arms felt around her, dancing.
How he had saved her from that wretched man at the party only to become an even worse fate.
Their gondolier steered the boat and turned a curve into a new lagoon, this one lit like a southern bayou.
It was filled with the echoing sounds of bullfrogs, floating paper boats, and glowing lanterns.
Fireflies flickered in the darkness. Her eyes lit when she saw them and she bit back a sound of awe.
If she was with anyone else in the world, it would have been terribly romantic.
She turned away from Theodore, reaching down to touch one of the lanterns.
It was made of delicate rice paper and the candle inside flickered.
Between the boats and lanterns were lily pads.
If only Grace’s mother could see this right now.
But then, of course, she had grown up in this world, too—it was Grace who was the outsider.
Last week, her mother had sat on the bed while Grace packed her trunk for St. Louis, listening to Grace explain why the time had come to embrace reality.
Her childhood had been like playing dress-up in a life not meant for her.
At one time, perhaps they had both hoped that she might overcome her family name, might make a match that would mend the rip her mother had left behind.
But it was apparent that people didn’t forget.
Perhaps if her mother hadn’t fallen so far.
If she hadn’t been engaged to the most eligible bachelor of their time, only to elope with Grace’s father instead.
It had been an enormous scandal. People whispered about shotgun weddings and decisions soaked in booze rather than reason.
But her parents had married for love, and Grace had never admired anyone more.
She wanted what her parents had, and perhaps she could find it, too. Just not in Lillie and Oliver’s world.
Although admittedly, her own felt very, very far away right now.
“Wow,” she heard Theodore say under his breath.
The canal curved around a bend and the gondolier steered them toward a re-creation of Switzerland.
There was a small, quaint Alpine town set in front of a backlit range of purple-hued mountains.
The village roofs were entirely made of flowers, and there was even a working clock tower.
The ever-present frown on Theodore’s face slightly receded, and something close to wonder came into his eyes.
She caught a whiff of his scent, that smoke and forest, and that night at the ball half a year ago came hurtling back at her. How could a person she had known for less than an hour have had such an impact on her? It was infuriating.
“Maybe you can find someone who wants to marry you in Switzerland,” she said sweetly. “It can only help your case if she doesn’t understand a word of English.”
It was as though he had forgotten she was there. His face instantly darkened and the wonder in it shuttered, and for a moment, she strangely felt as though it were she who had lost something.
“Are we almost there?” he asked the gondolier. He looked at Grace dead-eyed. “This has been the longest boat ride of my life.”
Grace strained toward the sound of lively music approaching in the distance.
She couldn’t shake the fact that she still found him vaguely handsome, even with his atrocious personality.
She was glad he would never know those secret thoughts, which would only further inflate his already overblown ego.
“You have traveled much, before, no?” the gondolier asked Grace. He flashed her a smile and his mouth was filled with gold teeth.
“Yes,” Theodore said, at the exact moment that Grace said, “Not really, no.”
Theodore colored, realizing he had spoken out of turn, and looked away.
“But I hope to,” Grace said. “Someday.” She dipped her fingers into the cold water of the lagoon. “Where should I go, if I had the choice?”
The gondolier smiled again. “Italy,” he said. “Venezia.”
“That would be lovely,” she said, smiling back. “Though this is likely the closest I will ever get.”
She said it without a hint of bitterness.
Her future in Kansas City could still be a beautiful one.
She would rather be there amid pleasant people who had big ideas and small pocketbooks than spend the rest of her life surrounded by people obsessed with nothing but class and money and the precise order of their forks.
“What is your name?” she asked the gondolier.
“Giorgio,” he said.
She felt Theodore’s eyes on her, watching her with curiosity, and perhaps a bit of surprise. Maybe he’d never seen people of lower classes interact with one another before.
“Tell me, Giorgio,” she said. “Do rich people in Italy seem to care an inordinate amount about the proper order of their cutlery?”
“Er,” he said, sweeping the oar with a quizzical look. “Cutlery?”
“Never mind,” she said, and Theodore snorted.
At least she could escape him soon. Beyond the final bend of the canal was a replica of a Spanish courtyard.
Warm lights spilled across its cobblestone square and a neoclassical cathedral rose up behind it.
Tables were set around a central fountain, where musicians milled around playing a bandurria, castanets, an accordion, and a flamenco guitar.
Grace bent down to hide herself from her aunt and uncle’s gaze as their gondola floated past the party, and Theodore shot her a look of annoyance when her leg grazed his own—as if she had planned it.
As if she were trying to seduce him. She wanted to tell him not to flatter himself, but it hardly seemed worth the effort.
Instead, she drank in the scene, pretending that she really was in Spain.
If she would never actually go, there was no harm in imagining it, was there?
Guests in their finery were nursing glasses of vermouth or creamy leche merengada topped with cinnamon sticks.
Some were perched on the fountain made from a mosaic of painted tiles, and there were colors and music everywhere, and ceramic pots spilling over with crimson carnations and pink roses.
Grace was itching to leave the boat and find her cousins.
Her heart soared. This night was already beyond her imagination.
Thankfully the boats unloaded at a pier in the shadows so that she and Theodore were able to disembark without being seen.
“Thank you, Giorgio,” Grace said to the gondolier, and ignored Theodore’s perfunctory hand to step out of the boat. She marched toward Oliver, seething, and let herself be only slightly distracted by the hundreds of candles that flickered in a cascade of votives from the cathedral.
“Is that real?” she asked Oliver breathlessly, reminding herself that without him, she wouldn’t even be here.
“Drink?” he replied instead of answering, handing her a half-frozen leche merengada.
“They’re meant to be for dessert, but I couldn’t help myself.
” He didn’t seem remotely apologetic about what he’d just put her through on the boat ride over.
After all, she supposed, why would he? She’d never mentioned Theodore to him, and Theodore must not have said anything about their encounter to him, either.
Oliver looked radiantly happy as he clinked his glass with hers in celebration.
“You look lovely,” he said to her, but his eyes were still on Harriet, who was making her way around the party.
Grace relaxed a little, feeling her annoyance melt away.
She would tell him the whole story later, at a time that wouldn’t ruin this night for either of them.
For now, she’d just leave all thoughts of Theodore Parker behind and have as much fun as possible.
She wanted to remember this week forever.
She would drink deep of its intoxicating nectar, even if it hurt her all the more later.
“I absolutely insist you try this.” Lillie placed a small plate of citrus-marinated olives and impossibly thin strips of jamón into Grace’s hands.
“Just make sure to use the right fork,” Theo said under his breath, so that only Grace could hear.