Of course she has feelings for him. She has since the first moment she saw him.
He’s been honest with her. Now it’s time for her to finally be honest with herself.
She inches closer. “What are we to do about this?”
“What do we want to do,” he murmurs, “or what should we do?”
Cora lets out a shaky breath. My, how she longs to lace her fingers around his neck, pull his lips down to hers, here,in public, for all the world to see. No more lies or games or illusions, her heart laid bare. Despite everything at stake—or perhaps more truthfully,becauseof everything at stake.
“Cora,” he whispers, searching her face. He nearly,nearlyreaches for her.
A face catches her eye beyond Cal’s left shoulder. She startles with a flinch.
Is it him? What on earth is he doing here?
Cora steps back sharply, heart hammering. Harry Peyton hasn’t seen her, though, not yet. Beneath his tall top hat, his guileless face is angled up at the bridge, his brow stitched in deep thought, as if he’s calculating the geometrics of the arch. He’s headed in their general direction, his hands in the pockets of his fur-lined overcoat.
“I’m so sorry,” Cora mumbles. “You’ll understand in a moment.”
She takes two more steps from Cal, spinning directly into Harry’s line of sight.
“Harry?” she gushes. “Oh my goodness, a lovely surprise! What are you doing here?”
She winces at her own accent, perhaps a bit overdone.
Cora looks at Cal in earnest, hoping he’ll play the game, but no need—he’s already scrubbed his face clean of emotion, approaching Harry with a dapper stride.
“Harold Peyton the younger, is it not?” Cal extends his hand. “We met in the park. Good to see you, old chap.”
Harry’s expression of extreme distaste broadcasts that the feeling is far from mutual. “Are you well, Cora? Is this reporter harassing you again? Surely you’ve gathered enough quotes for your paper, sir.”
“Goodness, no, how chivalrous you are.” She laughs dotingly, wreathing her arm around Harry’s. “I stopped by Mr.Archer’s office to see if he had received any news from home. We haven’t heard from my cousin in quite some time, and I... well, I must admit...”
Cora wipes her eyes, her face crumpling.
Harry’s expression softens. He takes her hand in his. “Oh, dear Cora.”
“Believe this is my cue,” Cal says ruefully. He nods, a sad twist to his smile. “I shall keep you abreast of any developments, Miss Ritter, if I hear anything from my sources.”
He tips his hat and goes.
Cora tries hard not to obviously watch him as he passes the newsies, sharing a joke with them, before disappearing back inside.
Harry squeezes her hand as they begin to stroll.
“I know how much your homeland means to you,” he says. “It pains me to see you so bereft.”
“Thank you.” She sniffs. “I must say, it’s such a tonic to run into you. What, pray tell, are you doing downtown?”
Harry gestures across the square.
“Our family broker has offices here,” he explains. “My father wanted to speak to him about potential investments.”
“Your father!” Cora exclaims. “He... left the house?”
“I’m as surprised as you are,” Harry says bemusedly. “He’s upstairs now at the brokerage, discussing the details of his current portfolio. I was keen to listen in, I must say, but he made me take a walk. I figured I might get a closer look at the bridge while I was at it.”
“Well, what delightful serendipity for us to run into one another.”
