Simon

Simon entered the house when the music signaled the end of the supper and the resumption of dancing. Where was Cora? He’d been waiting beside the wishing pond for a quarter of an hour. Worry tried to nudge into his thoughts, but he pushed it out with memories of watching her fight. She could take care of herself. And what was there at a ball to bring out her fight? He chastised himself for being ridiculous.

He scanned the room for her blue dress, but it was nowhere to be seen. May and Saalfeld stood with Lord and Lady Cottrell. Lucy and Everett only had eyes for each other. Had Cora changed her mind and gone back to her room to avoid him and the proposal she surely knew was coming? Simon left the ballroom and took the stairs to the family wing and continued down the hall to the rose bedroom.

There was no light shining beneath the door, but that didn’t mean the room was empty. He twisted the knob and pushed on the door. It was unlocked. “Cora, are you in there?”

He didn’t hear a sound in return, but that might only mean he couldn’t hear it.

He looked both ways and pushed the door open to step inside, closing it firmly behind him. The room was dark. Only a little moonlight shone through the open curtains. She wasn’t there. Her traveling trunk sat on the floor. He opened the lid and saw that it was still full. She hadn’t left for good. Simon felt like a thief going through her things.

The door opened suddenly, and shadows danced along the walls and floor from the candlelight entering the room.

Simon’s mother shrieked. “What are you doing in here?”

“And you?” Simon countered. His mother stood rigidly still, her eyes shifting as if making up some fib. “Obviously, we are both looking for Cora,” he said. “Why?”

His mother sagged and sat at the edge of the bed and set the candle aside. “I … ” She swallowed deeply.

She didn’t make eye contact with Simon, and his nerves heightened. “What aren’t you saying?”

“She … Lady Atkins, that is, has done a terrible thing.” The dowager’s head shook, and her hands trembled as she lifted them to cover her mouth.

Simon couldn’t bear the wait. He lifted his mother to her feet. “Mother, tell me what you know. Where is Cora?”

“Lady Atkins induced Wetheridge to take her to Scotland. They’re going to be married.”

Simon knew there was much more to this. “They will not!” his voice boomed, and his mother startled. Cora would not have willingly gone with Wetheridge.

“They can’t be that far ahead of me.” Simon was quickly leaving the room.

“You can’t leave. We have guests.”

“The only one I care about right now is no longer here. Get a wrap. You’re coming with me.” Simon pulled on her arm, and they left the room. “Where is Lady Atkins? Does she know which road they were to take?” Would Wetheridge take her to Gretna Green or to Coldstream or some other little border town? The road to Coldstream was a direct shot. Still, he could have taken an east or west road. Gretna Green was farther south, though off to the west, but the total journey would be a little shorter. Considering the roads and possibilities, Simon almost missed hearing his mother’s feeble answer as they reached her door.

“I didn’t ask.”

Aunt Nellie approached the couple. “I got some news from Lady Atkins, unwilling though she was, and will go with you. Their carriage took the road on the west side of your estate.”

“Coldstream.” A vicious thought tumbled through Simon’s head, and he entertained it momentarily. If Wetheridge married Cora, she would immediately become a widow.

“It appears,” Nellie replied. “Lady Atkins is locked in the kitchen pantry until we return.”

“If you’re going, I could stay and—” the dowager began.

Simon cut off whatever his mother was going to say. “You’re coming, and you’re going to beg forgiveness for your part before she returns. Get a shawl or don’t, but we are all leaving now.”

Aunt Nellie said, “I’ve requested your horse and a carriage on your behalf.” Then she turned to Simon’s mother. “Lord and Lady Cottrell will take care of your daughters and guests. Shall we be off?”

When the carriage arrived, Simon handed his mother in.

Aunt Nellie swatted the dowager on the seat and crowded close behind her on the steps without waiting for Simon’s help. “Get in there, Your Grace, or we’ll miss the best part.”

A groom arrived, leading Zephyr, the horse Simon purchased a few months ago. “He’s barely broke, but dangerous fast.”

Simon jumped into the saddle and kicked the horse to a run.

* * *

The dowager duchess huffed an exaggerated breath. “I don’t know why we’re bothering to follow. Simon will reach them long before we arrive.”

Nellie pulled a small pouch from her pocket and dumped some glistening dust into her palm. “Is the latch secure, Your Grace?” she asked, pointing to the door they’d entered. When the woman turned her attention to check it, Nellie blew the dust toward the front of the vehicle. It disappeared as it passed through the carriage walls to the horses, as she intended. “I’m sure we’ll get along rather quickly.”