by Jo Noelle
Her left arm stretched across Simon’s shoulders, and her hand took position on the fingerboard. Then she leaned against his back, rested her cheek behind his right ear, and held her bow above the strings. Simon stiffened a bit, but Cora played the first notes. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned a little into the instrument. It was working.
She continued to play, the music and the man filling her senses. She loved the smell that was uniquely Simon—something about the way his soap mixed with him was alluring. She closed her eyes and swayed with the music and felt Simon move in rhythm with her.
When she finished the second song, Simon’s hand covered her hand holding the bow, and brought it to his lips. He kissed her wrist and said, “Thank you.” Then he took the bow and the violin from her and stood to place them on a chair near him.
“You’re welcome, but I have another song.”
When he turned back to her, Cora sat back against her ankles. His eyes were dark and intense. This was what a sparrow must feel like caught in the gaze of a cobra, completely mesmerized. He shrugged out of his tailcoat, laying it over the back of the chair, then took two steps and again sat on the bench, facing her and with one leg on each side. Cora, watching, felt frozen, not from fear but from powerful curiosity, longing. Simon’s gaze and his smile—smoldering. She was aware of every movement he made, causing a string of firecrackers to ignite within her. She wanted to be held by him.
Cora swung her legs around to sit on the bench, and he pulled her into his embrace, her legs resting over his right leg as he cradled her to him. Her hands slid around to his back and she snuggled into his chest, again feeling his heart beating beneath her cheek. That was quickly becoming her favorite feeling. Admitting she was in much the same state as he was, she could hardly breathe around her own erratically beating heart.
There wasn’t a century or a time to this. It simply felt right.
Simon’s arms tightened around her. She thought she felt him kiss the top of her head. When she looked up, she was sure—he kissed her forehead. Cora stretched the slightest bit, her lips just a breath from his. She wanted to feel his mouth pressed to hers, but paused, waiting to see if Simon wanted it, too.
Slowly, Simon’s face tilted toward her. At first he brushed his lips across hers, not a kiss but oh, the feel. The feather-light contact provoked a sigh from her. Back and forth his lips grazed hers as his fingers skimmed up her neck, traced her ear, then cupped her jaw before he whispered her name, “Cora.” Then he pressed his mouth to hers.
Cora’s hand reached to the back of his neck, and her fingers twined in his hair. Then she reached up to pull the pins from her own simple hairstyle and dropped them to the floor without releasing Simon’s lips. The weight of her hair atop her head instantly fell away as her tresses lay across her shoulders and his arms.
A deep groan whispered in Simon, and his kisses became more fervent. This felt like the single most right experience of her life—to be here with him. Her mind staggered to claim any other coherent thought.
Moments later—Cora didn’t know how many since time had stopped—Simon pulled Cora into a tight embrace. He buried his face in her shoulder and simply held her as he seemed to struggle to slow his breath.
She knew she couldn’t leave Victorian England now. She had to see this through—to know what this was.
Simon smiled down at Cora as he leaned away from her. It seemed that neither of them had words beyond looking in each other’s eyes. She knew their time together this evening was coming to an end. She pressed her hand to his cheek and kissed his other one.
“Thank you for coming to the concert tonight, Mr. Duke.”
He kissed her lips once more, then leaned his forehead against hers. “The pleasure was mine. I’m your most ardent fan, Miss Cora.” He stood and pulled her up with him. “Piano. Violin. Are there other instruments I might look forward to a performance from you in the future?”
“Yes, there are. I’ll have to get you a schedule.” So many more. Ideas spun with the excitement of reintroducing each one to him. Her heart leaped with happiness to share her music with him. Anxiety had fled.
One incredulous eyebrow quirked up with surprise. “I hope it is soon and often.” He picked up his coat and shrugged into it.
They walked hand in hand to the door, and Cora twisted the knob. The rush of wind that had astounded her earlier was not the most amazing magic she had felt this evening. Her blood still simmered, and her head buzzed from the older magic she and Simon had shared. Then he kissed her hand and slipped out the door.
Cora crossed the room back to the violin and packed it away. She sat on the sofa and reclined her head against the padding for a moment, the case in her lap. A plan began to form. She’d have to talk with Aunt Nellie in the morning about all the possibilities of time travel.
When she had dressed for bed, a note slipped under her door.
Dearest Lovely Cora,
I am quick becoming a music lover.
Always yours,
Simon
P.S. If I were of a mind to learn to play an instrument, it would certainly be the violin under your instruction.
Cora giggled and read the letter several times before sleep claimed her.
Chapter 15
Simon
Simon regretted agreeing to meet with Everett’s solicitor that morning. When they’d made the appointment, it seemed it would be convenient since Twickenham was closer to South London than his home in St. Albans, and they’d be there for the Full Moon Ball and a house party, anyway.
He’d much rather spend the day with Cora, but he hadn’t seen her—or any women, for that matter. With the ball this evening, most of the women would sequester themselves in their rooms, doing whatever it was that took hours of primping before this evening.
He doubted very much that Cora would be so engaged. She was beautiful with little effort. He had proof. He’d seen her at her worst, drenched from her swim in a lake. Her blonde hair that had escaped the pins hung in natural curls around her face. Her eyes were bright with concern even as she soothed the man’s frightened horse. Enchanting.
His mind often lapsed back to the recital the previous night. Unfortunately, that would not be the entertainment planned tonight. Still, dancing with her, feeling her in his arms, was enticing as well. He would choose his two dances carefully.
Simon took a breath. There was much to appreciate about Cora. He would love nothing more than to spend the rest of his life doing just that.
As he rose from breaking his fast, the footman approached with two letters on a silver salver, the first bearing Simon’s formal address, The Most Noble Duke of Hertfordshire. He recognized the paper and the hand, guessing it would contain the monthly report he expected about one of his ventures. The second letter was neatly addressed simply to Hertfordshire. Who was familiar enough with him to address him as Hertfordshire but would also need to write to him? The scent of jasmine was faint but present. That was inclined to cause gossip—no doubt the footman had noticed as well. Simon fought the urge to wrinkle his nose at the offending letter and the unwelcomed attention it brought and walked to his room.
The letter was likely from a woman. But not Cora. He would have recognized her writing immediately. A smile quirked Simon’s cheeks. Maybe Cora’s only shortcoming was her penmanship. He had to admit that it had been steadily improving, but it still had occasional smudges and overly thick lines. Her governess must not have used a ruler to motivate her the way his teachers had. Additionally, Cora never would have sent a note through formal delivery instead of using Everett as they had been.
He separated the wafer seal from the paper and unfolded the letter, quickly scanning its contents. Lady Atkins was inviting him to a house party, “a small affair” as she put it. He would avoid any event that included both her name and the word “affair” at all costs. It bothered him that his mother and sisters thrust the woman into his company as often as they could. He wasn’t going to encourage that by
accepting this invitation.
He opened the second letter and sat at the small desk in the corner of his room. He’d established a school near his home in Hertfordshire for children who were shunned by society and abandoned by their families. The school was private, remote, and protected from society’s knowledge and judgment. He funded it completely on a property that he acquired as part of the ducal estate, but the old church had been left to ruins decades before. Housing wings and workrooms were being added, and the existing walls were being shored up.
He felt a particular kinship to the students, as all were deaf. It had taken some time to make it habitable, and then for his employees to comb the orphanages in nearby counties and have the children transported to his school, but for the past half year, there had been fourteen students learning trades they could employ to support themselves in the future.
The headmaster’s report updated him on repairs made and other expenses. All seemed in order. He wondered what Cora would think of the little school.
Simon thought she might be surprised. He was sure she would be pleased. In fact, he thought she might even share ideas for its functioning since she had experience with a school such as this. That was it. He’d invite her to his home.
Admitting it might be just an excuse to spend more time with her, he decided to move ahead with the plan. He’d organize a small stag hunt with Everett, Saalfeld, and himself, and the women who interested each of them. Lord and Lady Cottrell would also be invited, as would Lord and Lady Radnor. Three days of hunting and a week of socializing. He pulled out a sheet of paper and penned instructions to his housekeeper. She would be able to start making the necessary arrangements ahead of his return next week. He penned a personal note of invitation to his proposed guests and sealed each one.
After he delivered them to the butler to arrange delivery, he left with Everett to go to the solicitor’s office. Any other day, the journey of more than two hours into the heart of London, the time spent in the meeting, then back out again wouldn’t seem a burden. He’d right enjoy the ride and the company. Not today. They should have arranged for the man to come to them.
The meeting went as planned. They were narrowing down their choices of investments to steel, railroads, or shipping interests. Simon considered the potential of each market and listed the advantages and risks of each venture. Since becoming Hertfordshire, the weight of caring for so many people pressed heavily on him—especially the responsibility he felt toward his sisters. This investment included funds from the estate and money he had set aside from before he became duke. That would secure his sisters’ independence—not in an extravagant way, but it would allow them choice.
Aunt Nellie’s house was only half an hour away when Everett abruptly broke into Simon’s thoughts and changed the subject.
“I’m going to do it. I’m going to talk with Lucy’s father.”
Simon heard the resolve and the apology in his friend’s voice. “I wish you the best. She’s a fine woman. She might even deserve better.”
Everett’s smile flashed widely. “Oh, she does. That’s why I need to ask before she figures that out.”
“Her father might refuse your suit simply because you’ve waited much too long. His butler is quite the bruiser.”
“You’re full of optimism, you jackanapes. If I wasn’t nervous before, now I have to consider if he’ll throw me from the house before I can offer for her.”
Simon laughed but cleared his throat and added, “You’ve saved me, you know. I wouldn’t have been able to enter society without your help.”
“I’m not getting married right away. I’ll still be around to help.”
Everett’s voice betrayed his lack of enthusiasm to wait, and Simon answered, “Less, I hope. And you needn’t keep Lucy waiting—I’ll be fine. Get married and refill that children’s wing with rowdy boys and girls.”
Everett laughed deeply. “Likely, you’ll be married yourself soon enough.”
They rode the remainder of the journey in silence—each consumed by their thoughts of the future. Simon knew getting married wasn’t a challenge for him, should he desire it. There had been plenty of mothers volunteering their daughters for the position. But when he thought of a hypothetical wife, Cora’s face filled his imagination, leaving no room for other choices.
Marrying for love—it frightened him. It wasn’t what his family did. They had married for connections or money or prestige, even just to comply with an arrangement made when they were babies. His own parents were tolerant, if not always respectful, of each other.
He wanted to give and receive the better part of life. Respect, yes. Tolerance when needed. But more than that—awe, humor, intelligent discussion, passion, and if heaven were willing to so bless their union, the shared love of their children—all that marriage and family could have to offer. His heart burned for it, and he saw its possibility in Cora’s eyes. He’d certainly never thought he’d love his wife, and yet, here she was. He would love her with every walk through a garden, dance at a ball, or quiet evening by a winter’s fire. He would love her with gentle words and soft touches. He would love Cora with all his heart.
If she would let him.
Chapter 16
Cora
A month ago, Cora didn’t think there was anything more important than attending a ball in Victorian England. But tonight, she just wanted it over. The excitement of her friends to return home didn’t touch her. The orchestra played. The people danced, and a few possible matches were made.
During the midnight supper, Cora spoke quickly to May as soon as the men went to retrieve their plates. “You travel between here and there frequently. How does it work?”
“Remember that night we met at Nellie’s ball a month ago, just after you arrived? I wasn’t there for the midnight supper because I left to the future.”
Cora could feel her eyebrows lower as she tried to understand what May was saying.
“I had a summer term to complete for an August graduation.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Cora shook her head and tried to imagine how that worked.
“Yes, it does if time is a fuzzball. I met you at the ball.” May checked around the room to see if the men were returning yet, then leaned closer to Cora. “Just before midnight, I left for three months. Then I came back the same day of the ball. It was shortly after you met my mother.”
Cora’s fingertips pressed on her temples as she considered what she’d heard.
May continued. “You have to let go of the timeline concept. I’m an RN now. That was my last term. I’ve never left this century for more than a few hours, but I’ve spent years in the other one, too.”
“Maybe if I try to think of it as a loop. You left on a three-month loop, then came back to the point you left.” May bobbed her head, and Cora continued. “Congratulations. That’s some major work. You’re probably exhausted living two lives, but you have a promising future in whichever time you live in.”
“I don’t feel like I’m living two lives—just mine. This is only different for you. It’s normal for me. The two centuries don’t have to sync. When I’m gone for three months, I age that much even though I return the same night in the past. The people who know me here think I’m twenty-two, but if I add in the four years my bachelor’s degree took, I’m really twenty-six.” May’s gaze left Cora’s, and Cora knew she was watching Saalfeld.
May’s voice took on a yearning quality. “I’ve lived this way for a long time. Like you, each full moon, I have another decision to make. Do I stay or do I go? Where will I make my life?” May reached for Cora’s hands folded in her lap and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I imagine you’re starting to think on that decision yourself.”
“How did you decide?”
“I haven’t.” There was sorrow in May’s eyes, and Cora noticed her blinking rapidly. “It seems my head is there, and my heart is here. Sometimes it feels like I’m being pulled apart.”
The longing in her gaze
toward Saalfeld was apparent. She hadn’t decided—that must be why May held him a little farther away from her heart than Cora thought she really wanted to. It was like a wound that opened as the moon waxed stronger.
May sat up straighter. “It’s a full moon tonight.” She didn’t elaborate.
She knows I’m having to make the same decision she’s had to make for the past few years. Like the tide, it pulls on you until you make the decision to stay or go.
“I’m leaving here during a ball, and I’ll arrive there during a ball. Such a happy coincidence of the universe.” Cora could tell that her voice sounded more strained than happy. Maybe May wouldn’t notice.
May shook her head. “Nellie has a ball on every full moon. They’re her way of saying ‘bon voyage’ to anyone coming or going. The woman loves her job.”
“Are you going?” Cora asked.
“Not tonight. I’m officially on summer vacation. At some point, I think I’ll take a graduation trip but not until I’m rested and can really enjoy it.”
The men returned, and their table filled with polite dinner conversation.
After the apple tart was served, May said something to the group about needing Cora to help her with her hem, and they left the supper together but parted company in the foyer after a quick hug. Cora had no desire to say any parting words. She supposed that was because she’d made the decision to stay—for now.
“I’ll see you here or there.” May turned toward the ladies’ retiring room.
From the staircase, Cora saw her friends excusing themselves from their parties. She lifted her skirts and took the stairs two at a time. She needed a moment to talk with Aunt Nellie before the others arrived.
She burst into the room and heard Nellie yip with surprise from beside the door.