Billionaire Flawed 1(80)

For the next several hours, Cora continued to monitor him, washing him and doing what she could to whet down the fever.

He finally became conscious toward the late afternoon, waking up in a daze, swinging his feet over the chair, but not to get up before Cora came in and scolded him.

“You’re not fine,” she said, grabbing his arms and guiding him back down. He was still in a daze and consented.

“Just rest,” she said.

By evening, he was conscious, and while still afflicted, could manage a bit on his own. She offered him some chicken soup for dinner and he sat up groggily to spoon the soup from the bowl toward his lips.

“You can cook?” he muttered.

“Don’t act so surprised,” she teased. “I may not be very lady-like, but I can cook like a lady.”

“Where did you get the chicken?” he asked.

Cora pursed her lips.

“About that...well, I hope you don’t mind being down one less chicken…”

Joshua laughed, but soon began a coughing fit, and so Cora hushed him back to rest and cleaned up after them.

“You know, I was actually nervous.”

Joshua spoke low and softly, the fire flickering in the distance, glittering in his blue eyes. Cora stretched in her spot from leaning into the large armchair, and was taken aback by his tone.

“Nervous?” she asked.

“When I was waiting the other morning...I was actually nervous. I know I said that it was all purely business, and that I was doing it for the inheritance--” he pursed his lips. “But that morning, I was actually nervous. I was so scared that I was going to be a disappointment. I was afraid that this woman--whoever it was--was going to absolutely hate me.”

Cora leaned her cheek into the palm of her hand and laughed.

“I don’t hate you,” she smiled. “Not absolutely.”

Joshua chuckled.

“My grandfather always thought I spent too much time being serious. He always said I didn’t know the important things in life. I guess...this was his way to make sure I didn’t stay that way. From the grave.”

The two of them sat on in silence.

Cora cleared her throat.

“I never knew any of my family,” she said. “You’re really blessed to have had that. The idea of having my own family...of one day being able to call another person mine. That was my only dream growing up.”

Joshua could hear the longing in her voice. “What happened?”

“I grew up,” Cora sighed. “I learned that fairytales are meant for books. And families are meant for other lucky girls.”

Joshua watched as Cora leaned her face toward the window, the moonlight and fire, both swirling in her big brown eyes, mixing together in a wonderful medley.

Perhaps it’s just the fever, he thought, but in that moment, the two seemed to have finally been knit, and as he gazed at her, her tousled dress, her sad eyes, and the untamed hairs that strayed from her braid, she looked the most beautiful thing he had seen in a lifetime.



The days after seemed to move like the clouds across the midwest: quick and dissipating into the blue sky. Adjusting to each other’s presence was a chore for both Joshua and Cora, as headstrong as both were. Teaching Cora to be a lady was not as difficult as Joshua had intended.

“I read a lot of books,” she reasoned. “I can put on any face you like.”

So in a little over a month’s time, when Joshua finally introduced Cora to his family at a night gathering at the Stanton, everyone seemed utterly delighted to have met her.

“She’s marvelous,” his mother cooed across the table, the glasses sparkling underneath the light. “Why ever had we not been able to meet her until now?”

The other guests around the table laughed.

Joshua shifted in his seat, and Cora smiled, though sending a darting glance with her eyes. “We’re very private people,” he answered. “We thought it was best to keep our courtship...out of the public view.”

“New York City, eh?” A voice bellowed across the table toward Cora, an older male relative of Joshua’s. “What a grand city!”

“Yes’sir,” Cora smiled. “The grandest.”

The dinner continued joyously, with close family and friends present. Joshua and Cora appeared, to everyone, a wonderful match.

“Ahem,” a glass tinkered in the room, and it hushed as Walter Howell stood up.

“To my dear nephew,” he raised a glass, in toast.

Cora leaned toward Joshua. “And why did he have to be hear?”

Joshua sighed under his breath.

“He’s family, Cora. Can’t change that,” he said. “Not even if I wanted to.”

Walter continued in his accolade.