Simon

Everett met Simon at the door to his study. “Why would Wetheridge stroll out to the garden at this time of night?” Everett asked as he twisted the key in the lock and stood aside for Simon to enter.

Simon thought Everett looked as suspicious as Simon felt.

“You don’t think …?” He didn’t continue with what he thought but shook his head and gave Simon a hopeless look.

“I have no idea, but I will find out.” Simon walked across the dark wood floor, his boot heels clicking with the determination in his step. “If he thinks to have an assignation with my sister, I’ll beat him bloody.”

Simon sneaked out the exterior door of the office, following Wetheridge but keeping to the shadows where he wouldn't be seen. He’d run the garden maze so many times in his youth that he could do it blindfolded. Neither the hidden exits nor the false turns would give him any trouble. Of course, Wetheridge could probably do the same. As Everett’s cousin, he’d likely had years of practice in this maze too.

As he slid around the corner, he saw Wetheridge pause for a moment near the formal entrance. His face turned back toward the house even as silver light broke through the back door, and a woman stepped out.

Simon hissed in his breath and held it. Suddenly he wished the tryst was with his sister. Instead, he recognized Cora’s gold dress. Throughout dinner she’d caught his attention as he admired that color against her skin and how it brightened her hair. He exhaled slowly, his gut tightening when his own eyes verified her familiar appearance—her curly tresses lifted off her neck and the alluring spiral lovelock she’d left dangling over one shoulder. Hoping he was mistaken, he felt crushed when he confirmed even by the way she moved, stepping surely though looking over her shoulder once and striding away from the party and toward the maze—toward Wetheridge.

He didn’t know what compelled him to enter the maze through a hidden passage, or perhaps he clung to one hope that he was mistaken. Or perhaps he would verify it with his own eyes before he gave her up. He also questioned if he was seeking to release the pain he felt at seeing her race to meet Wetheridge. Like pressing on a scab, he had to know.

Simon shook himself and straightened his shoulders. Cora, in many ways, was inexperienced with London society and the rules it imposed. He told himself that it was for her protection that he would remain near. He would step into the maze himself rather than let her be compromised—even though she seemed accepting of the plan.

He made his way slowly through the deep shadows of the trees bordering the lawn. He forced his feet to move quietly, slowly, though his mind was racing. Had she a special interest in the man? Surely not. But she made a straight line toward the hedge. Had they rendezvoused before? He doubted it. He would have noticed Cora missing from a dinner or any other event as her presence was a constant pull to his mind, and his eyes searched for her before he knew he wanted to see her again. It must be a coincidence. Must be.

Wetheridge was nowhere to be seen now as he’d entered straightway. Cora didn’t even pause but almost charged into the entrance. He brushed off the possibility that she was excited for the meeting, thinking that perhaps she was angry. That would explain the determination and fast pace. Simon decided to go through a back entrance into the hedge where he could see what was happening. He had to move quickly but quietly to reach the fountain while she followed the twisting passageways. If she planned to go to the fountain.

Pausing at the last corner, Simon glanced around the hedges before entering the centerpiece of the maze. He moved by degrees, scanning the open space. The fountain bubbled as water cascaded out of the rose-shaped tubs as if an endless rainstorm had filled them to spilling over to the level below. Gray statuary and exotic flowering trees decorated the sanctuary’s five-sided borders between the various entrances.

Wetheridge stood to the side of the hedges where the light cast from the full moon wouldn’t touch him, and he could watch the main entrance without being seen. If Cora expected to meet him here, why would he hide?

Simon wondered, when Cora had shown Wetheridge no preference, why she would meet him now. Here. It twisted his heart to imagine what he hadn’t recognized. Of course, she could have spoken with the man when Simon couldn’t hear their conversation or at some time when he wasn’t present.

The flash of a white dress through the leaves broke Simon from his thoughts. He strained to hear women’s faint voices and heavy steps. They were giggling, followed by exaggerated hushing sounds as they rounded the corner right behind him. He jerked back and slipped into one of the dead ends where he hoped to be hidden in the shadows as they entered the back entrance to the hedgerow.

May and Lucy passed by without looking his direction, then paused at the opening Simon had looked through moments ago.

Who isn’t coming to the garden maze tonight?

The women whispered back and forth as Simon ducked out of hiding and eased back out to the last corner, keeping quiet not only to maintain secrecy but to avoid scaring the wits out of the two women less than three strides in front of him. After they passed and stood near the entrance, he made a bit of noise and walked back to the opening to the central room of the hedge maze.

Wide-eyed, the women turned his way as he tramped forward. May swung a fist at him that he barely dodged while Lucy’s hands flew up to cover a gasp.

“Shh!” May hissed in his direction. Then, with a little accusation in her voice, she asked, “Are you here to meet Cora?”

Lucy answered May before Simon could. “Everett said that Wetheridge went into the maze before Cora.” She turned away from Simon. “He’s there.” Lucy pointed across the small enclosed lawn. “Everett assured me that Simon was following Wetheridge, too,” she said to May, who turned to Simon and said, “Glad you finally made it.” Then Lucy continued her train of thought. “And I want to know what he's about.”

“She didn’t tell you when she left—either of you?” Simon asked.

“There was a letter,” Lucy started, but at that moment Cora entered the center of the hedge, looking around as if in expectation.

She continued to walk as if looking for someone, sideways, backward, and forwards swinging her head from side to side as she approached the fountain at the center.

Wetheridge skirted along the edge of the bushes, keeping to a shadow cast by the moonlight, walking nearer to the spot where Simon, Lucy, and May were concealed. Simon's heart raced, pounding in his chest. Why didn’t he step from the shadows?

Cora must have heard a sound and twisted around, staring into the darkness when Wetheridge stepped out, apparently assuming they were alone. Even Simon could hear the man’s voice.

“Surely you came to meet me here,” Wetheridge said, his voice forceful. “As I did you.”

He stalked forward, and Cora backed away and skirted around the edge of the fountain, keeping it between them. She was now quite close to where Simon stood. “I did no such thing. I was merely out for a midnight stroll.”

Simon watched as Wetheridge approached her with movements like a prowling cat.

“It seems your reputation will be in shatters,” Wetheridge called toward her.

Simon tensed and made to move forward, but May pulled him back, shaking her head.

“I have no intention of telling anyone you barged in on my walk unwelcomed,” Cora replied.

“Oh? But I shall,” he answered, taking large steps to catch up with her.

Sure now that Cora had not arranged a tryst, Simon slid between Lucy and May and offered an elbow to each.

“We’ll take care of this,” May said, then pulled Lucy with her into the center, leaving Simon by the boundary wall.

Cora responded by joining her friends and twining her arm with Lucy's. “As I said, I was out for a stroll—with my friends. Good night.”

“Perhaps I should stay and walk you back,” Wetheridge suggested.

“No need,” Lucy replied. “I trust you can find your way out.” Then May flicked her fingers as if to shoo him along when he didn’t move.

Wetheridge exited the center of the maze, but Simon had no idea whether he'd return to the house. The women exited through the front entrance while Simon retraced his steps through the green corridor to the opposite side of the yard in time to see Wetheridge re-enter the house.

Simon approached the women on the back lawn, and May said, “Good evening, Your Grace.” She turned to her friends and said, “Shall we rejoin the party?”

Simon bowed to the ladies, who returned curtsies. May and Lucy took Cora by the arms before he walked away. A million questions flooded his mind. What was she doing there? Why did she even come out? What letter were they talking about? What did Wetheridge want with her? That one was easy to answer. If he thought to ruin her and marry her, he might be surprised to know Simon had determined to give her an alternative choice, one he found vastly appealing.

He stopped and asked, “May I accompany you back to the house? I'll stay far enough away that I won't overhear your conversation.”

May opened her mouth as if to object, but Cora interrupted. “Thank you.”

Even if he were only five steps behind them, unless they were speaking in his direction or loudly, he wouldn't hear them well enough to understand anyway. Cora knew it, too. Would there be a time when he would be able to ask Cora about tonight? Did he have any right to question her choices at all? Perhaps he did if they counted each other friends.

The women strolled together arm in arm in front of him back to the veranda. They waited for him at the stairs, and he accompanied them inside. Wetheridge was conversing with Simon's mother near the door. As the small group entered, a surprised look fell on Wetheridge's face, as well as that of Simon’s mother.

“Beautiful night for a walk is it not, Wetheridge?” Simon asked.

May and Lucy bobbed a curtsy, and Cora nodded to Simon's mother, then walked quickly behind Wetheridge to rejoin the party in the salon.

“Was something wrong, Wetheridge?” Simon asked. “I thought I saw you on the back lawn.”

“Just getting some fresh air,” he replied and hurried away.

“Mother, what have you and Wetheridge to discuss in private?” Simon asked.

“You know well his interest in your sister. I think it best to be amiable to the man who may be family one day.”

She too left him. Simon was no closer to unraveling the mystery he’d witnessed in the maze. He strongly doubted the man’s interest in his sister.

Before Simon rejoined the party, Everett approached him from the hallway. “What the devil is that man up to?” Everett asked.

Simon shook his head. “Perhaps he has decided to press his suit with Cora.”

“Not likely she'll find that very welcome,” Everett replied.

Simon hoped so. He would have believed that a day ago. Now, he was less certain. But he would be seeing her tomorrow since they would be having an outing of sorts.

The next day, Simon spied May and Cora standing at the kitchen door to the manor house in worn-looking dark skirts and white shirts as instructed when he drove a farm wagon to the garden gate. Lord Saalfeld sat beside him, his head swinging frequently both ways. The man was nervous but still willing to spend the day with two unmarried women without chaperones.

It was early in the morning and only servants were about—except for the two gentlemen dressed as commoners and the two ladies who would soon join them.

The ladies scurried to the wagon, black bonnets secured around their faces. Anyone looking on would imagine it was market day, and several servants were making an early start of it. Simon held the horses as Saalfeld jumped to the ground and assisted the ladies into the wagon.

“We’re sitting in the back?” May asked as he pulled the ladies to the rear.

Simon held his breath. May had always seemed rigid about the expectations of her class. If she balked, Cora would not be spending the day with him.

“Today, I’m not an earl, and you’re not a lady, my lady. When we’re commoners, this is how it’s done.” Saalfeld’s voice barely contained his excitement. “Step on the spoke of that wheel. Your other foot will step there, and then you’ll swing your first leg over.” He flashed her a rare smile—at least, one rarely seen by Simon. May seemed to bring out the best in his friend.

“Fine. Turn your back. I don’t want you to see my ankles.”

“We grew up next to each other. I’ve seen your ankles dangling from horses and trees more often than the queen wears jewels.” Saalfeld laughed. “And have they grown their own appendages? That would be something to see.”

“Yes, and I won’t have you gossiping about it.”

Cora moved past her friend. “Oh, for the love, May. See your ankles? Let’s get going already.” Cora stepped where Saalfeld had indicated and entered the wagon bed.

“Well, Cora. You’ve got some things to learn about this time—I mean place. Where’s the mystique in just clambering up?” May lifted her hem and followed her in while Saalfeld stood to catch her if she took a misstep before he joined Simon.

Simon watched as Cora scooted to the front of the wagon bed where the women were to sit. He’d placed two cushions there to offer a bit of comfort on the wooden boards. Their seat would likely be much more comfortable than his. The narrow bench where he sat barely supported his derriere, effectively conducting the jar of every rut in the road straight up his spine.

“Will you tell us the big secret now?” Cora asked as the wagon began to move along the lane toward the road.

She was kneeling on her cushion and leaning toward him. Her face was barely behind his shoulder, and he could smell the lilac scent of her soap. At this moment, he wanted to say yes to anything she asked, but he would win her first. On with the plan. “No.”

“Perhaps Your Grace would like us to guess your intentions.” May sighed deeply. “Hmm. You’re running a little short of money because of the outrageous sums you pay for simple box lunches and have made arrangements for us to supply some kind of labor to earn funds.”

Cora continued the story. “Oh, yes. His Grace must have a terrible gambling problem as well. It seems he bets on shooting matches. The only way for him to repay the sums owed is to provide extra servants—us—for a lavish house party.”

“And we are to wash the kitchen while the duke and earl muck out the horse stalls.” May tapped Saalfeld on the shoulder. “You can muck out a stall, can you not?”

“Of course,” he answered. “One stall to every five pans you wash.”

Simon could hear the mock horror as Cora added, “Oh, May. What if we aren’t a labor crew, but instead, we are secretly eloping? I mean, there are two of them and two of us.”

“That’s terribly inconvenient. Surely one of them would have mentioned that we needed to bring some personal items with us. At least a small valise. I’d need to bring a few dresses to choose from.”

“I’d never choose this dress or hat to wear for my wedding. I’d need a little jewelry and some nicer shoes.” Cora giggled. “And plenty of ribbons.”

“And of course, if I were to elope, I’d need another carriage for my parents. I couldn’t imagine them not there to witness my marriage.”

“That makes it not an elopement,” Saalfeld said.

“Sh. This is our story. You’re already in hot water for having a gambling problem,” May answered.

“That was Simon,” Saalfeld countered.

May waved off the comment.

“And a lady’s maid for us to look our best.” Cora leaned over the wagon box again. “Shall we turn around and get a few more things?”

Lord Saalfeld answered, “You’ve found us out. There’s no reason to continue now that it’s no longer a secret. It’s taken all the fun out of it, so we needn’t complete our scheme.”

Simon’s heart hammered in his chest. This was truly what a couple must feel as they elope—sneaking out of town incognito before the house has arisen for the day. The thought had a certain appeal to him. However, today he had other plans.

“As entertaining as your guesses have been, you haven’t hit upon the design of our day, ladies. In the Hessian bag, you’ll find more props.” Simon had gathered two well-used shawls and straw ladies’ hats of similar age and disrepair. They would need them to blend into this crowd. “We’re nearly there.”

“Nearly where?” Cora asked, to Simon’s pleasure. “There isn’t a town in sight, just gently rolling hills—though I do love them.”

“And sheep,” May added.

Simon remained silent while only a few houses and a barn still blocked the clues to their outing. As soon as they rounded the next bend in the road, there would likely be a crowd beginning to gather.

And there was. Wagons, phaetons, and various carriages were parked along a circular dirt road. As expected, the polished conveyances parked near each other while the ones driven by those of lesser means congregated on the other side of the large loop. Simon drove to that side and pulled in alongside other farm wagons. Then he jumped from the driver’s seat and lowered the tailgate.

Simon and Saalfeld sat on the edge and motioned for the ladies to join them.

Once settled, May said dully, “That’s a flat course.” When no one responded, she spoke again. “You brought us to a horse race. Why did we have to wear servants’ clothes? We could be sitting over there.” She motioned to the stylish carriages across the way before she continued. “And watch from the comfort of a buggy.”

“That’s all true,” Simon replied. Then he leaned forward to look at the women’s faces. He hoped that he’d made the right assumption that they would like this adventure. “But ladies of fashionable society are not allowed to leave their buggies and mingle with jockeys and horses. I thought you might enjoy the freedom of getting closer to the action of the race a bit more.”

Cora slid from the wagon bed almost before he finished. “You’re right.” She slipped her hand under his bicep and wrapped her fingers around his forearm. “In fact, I do want to see the horses up close. Will we be betting today or just spectating?”

“Now who has the gambling problem?” he teased Cora.

“I’ll have you know I’m an outstanding judge of horseflesh.”

“There’s an opportunity to bet should we find a horse that seems a good investment.” He was relieved that he would please Cora with this outing.

May jumped to the dirt as well. Cora smiled at her friend and winked when she said, “I propose we make a game of it. We’ll place our bets and see who makes the better choices—the women or the men.”

May quickly added, “The winning team will get to claim four privileges. . .” She cocked her head to the side and lifted her eyebrows at Saalfeld. “. . .within reason, of course, of the losing team.”

Saalfeld laughed. “You might be surprised what I find reasonable if you would just ask.”

“I doubt it,” she answered, patting his arm. Then she turned to Cora. “That’s two for each of us when we win.”

Cora smiled up at Simon as he began leading her toward the horses. “I’ll need to borrow some money to wager. I’m a little unprepared.”

“I apologize for swooping you away this morning without your pin money.” Simon wanted to be the one to supply that money. She would find him a more than generous husband—anything she wanted would be hers—if she would accept him. He turned his attention to the group and announced, “We each wager one pound on two out of the eight match races today. We’ll tally the earnings, and the spoils will go to the winners. Agreed?”

With the wager fixed, Simon led the group to see the horses and jockeys.

“Is there a horse you prefer?” Simon asked from very close behind Cora’s ear.

Cora took a deep breath, savoring the scent of the horses. “Well, this one isn’t tall enough,” she said, walking on. “This one is, but it’s rather short from the shoulder to hindquarters.” She stopped at the next and examined it slowly. “This one is a possible winner. I won’t decide yet until I’ve seen the rest.”

Cora and Simon continued down the line of horses and then returned to the third one. “The front is powerful.” The horse danced a bit at the commotion outside his stall. “He’s anxious. He wants to run. I’ll take this one. I doubt very highly that he’s good for anything except racing.”

After the men placed the bets, they returned to the women and led them to the fence. Both women squeezed in front of Simon and Saalfeld to watch the races. Simon encouraged Cora to stand on the bottom rung to get a better look, and he placed his hands on her waist to steady her. She angled back to lean against him and seemed happy that he stepped forward to facilitate it.

That earned him a sly smile and a giggle from Cora.

Simon knew the outcome of the women’s bets as soon as he pocketed the payouts—six pounds, two half shillings, a thruppence, and a penny. Saalfeld’s tally would be the deciding factor. Simon was torn between the advantages of winning or losing this bet. Of course he’d love to have special privileges, but he might equally enjoy having Cora ask something of him that only he could fulfill. Either way, this bet seemed like the best outcome of the day.

He emptied his pocket into the back of the wagon bed for the women to see and count their money. The women huddled together as Cora watched May count the coins. Saalfeld consulted Simon on their combined profit as well—two pounds, a shilling, and a grout.

When the men announced their total, May jumped to her feet in the wagon bed, followed by Cora, who shared a congratulatory hug. “We won. We nearly tripled them,” May said.

“I’m already wondering what I’ll demand for the boon of winning.” The men stood on the dirt looking up at them. Cora continued, “We should be better sports and not brag, but we won. We won.” She wrapped her arms around May once more.

Simon cleared his voice rather loudly and waited for the women to look his way. “Cora, I believe you borrowed two pounds from me to place the wagers.”

Saalfeld laughed and added, “As did May.” He thrust his palm toward the women. May grudgingly passed him two coins.

Cora likewise reached out to relinquish hers. “And where does that leave us?” Cora asked her partner.

But Simon answered first, his fingers tightening momentarily around hers. “We are horse to horse.”

“Tied,” May said.

“No one won?” Cora asked.

May shook her head, but Simon couldn’t let the opportunity slip away. “I believe we have four winners instead of none. I suggest that we split the windfall evenly with each of us taking one.”

“Capital,” Saalfeld agreed.

“Better than nothing,” Cora said, settling beside May on the provided pillow to make the return trip to Everett’s home. “I’ll have to think on how I’ll spend that favor, Mr. Duke.”

Simon smiled and returned to the driver’s seat. So will I.

When he returned to his room that night, he had a letter waiting for him, written in a familiar hand.

Dear Simon,

You are cordially invited to a private recital at eight in the evening day after tomorrow. I hope you will accept.

Yours,

Cora

P.S. I don’t know the location for the event yet, so please check with Aunt Nellie about it an hour or two before. That adds to the mystery, doesn’t it?