Glamorous Illusions by Lisa T. Bergren

amount of time considering social standing and such.”
    Wallace stared at him. The guide dared to contradict him? His first impulse was to excuse them from his employ. But deep down, he knew the bear was absolutely correct.
    Both Morgan and he had concocted this plan to send them on the tour because they saw their children for what they were. In need of culture and refinement, yes. Spoiled. Used to things going their way. Each given to their own weakness. But good at the core, each and every one of them. Facing Cora would help transform them into the adults he knew they could be—or plunge them headlong into their deepest weaknesses.
    It would be what it would be. “I understand that this is both the chance and challenge of a lifetime. That I’ve added a… nuance to the group that could not have been anticipated. But it must be faced head-on. And for your trouble, I will double your fee.”
    The old bear stared back into Wallace’s eyes, calculating, considering. It didn’t take him long. He held out a hand to shake with Wallace. “We shall see it through,” Stuart said.
    But Wallace had already known he had him.
    Everyone could be bought. Everyone.

    ~Cora~
    My father never knew I’d heard every word that he’d said to the guide and his nephew, laying bare my humiliating personal history, negotiating my inclusion in the group as if I were simply a difficult sack of goods to sell. His words had echoed over the finely polished wood floors, up the stairs, to the landing where I hovered, alternately entranced and horrified.
    I sat down when he said that my name was Kensington on my birth certificate. I wondered over that. Was it true? I’d never seen the document with my own eyes, had always taken Mama’s word that she kept it safe in her box of papers. I put my head in my hands when he said he intended for me to be introduced everywhere as a Kensington. What did that mean for me? That I’d face ridicule, mocking, through the whole journey? The guides clearly felt I was a liability.
    Spotting a maid coming up the stairs, I rose and scurried to my room, not wishing anyone to know that I’d been eavesdropping. And then I spent hours pacing my bedroom floor, wondering if I should have declined his invitation to come on this trip, even if it meant finding our own way to make it on the farm and care for Papa. Here in Butte, knowing a little more of him, I felt fairly certain he had traded upon our insecurities and fears to get what he wanted.
    But could I do it? Face the world as the illegitimate child of Wallace Kensington? Without him by my side, protecting me, driving back those who challenged the notion—even as our guide and his nephew had just done in the dining room? What was I to do if someone dared to remark on it? Grin and bear it? I shook my head and rested my hand atop it.
    Lord, please help me. Give me courage. Hope.
    How I envied my sisters and brother. They’d never known anything but this house, this name, this existence. As much as I loved my parents…how could they have loved me, as well as lied to me, all those years? My siblings had never had such doubts. They always knew they were Kensingtons. I shook my head, hating Mr. Kensington, hating my mother’s weakness, hating Mama and Papa’s lies—even if they meant to protect me. I felt as if I’d fallen into a narrow hole and could not move, let alone begin to claw my way out.
    It didn’t help that the June evening was uncommonly hot. This time of night, most of Montana cooled down, allowing sleep. But after tossing and turning for hours, I knew I’d never find my rest. My mind was in as many knots as my sheets.
    I had to get out. Out of this house. For a walk, to clear my head. To pray.
    I threw on my old brown dress and my tired, worn boots, wanting the comfortable, the known, weary of drowning in a sea of new. Only when I felt the last button at my neck, the familiar