Rescued By A Viscount(50)

Simon woke with a groan. His eye was swollen shut, and his face hurt like hell. Moving slowly so as not to wake Claire, he turned onto his side and eased himself upright to sit on the edge of the bed. He pressed his ribs and concluded they were bruised more than broken. His nose did not make any crunching noises upon being tweaked, so he suspected that was good, too. Rising, he moved like an old man to the water, and then, cupping it in his hand, he washed his face. The water felt blissful. Simon wondered how his coachmen were faring. They had arrived minutes after the fight started and waded in with smiles on their faces. Drying his own face, he looked briefly to the window. It was just getting light. He would need to wake Claire so they could leave as soon as they’d eaten. One more night and they should reach Liverpool. Hopefully, tonight would not be quite so eventful.

His eyes went to the bed and found it empty. He searched the room then and found her bags gone. “Stupid, idiotic, bloody woman!” He roared these words so loudly that in seconds, Merlin was pounding at his door. In two strides, he had it opened. “Miss Belmont appears to have taken the notion to continue this journey on her own. Get the horses ready to leave at once.”

Simon grabbed his clothes and pulled them on. Reaching for his gun, he noted it was gone and raised his eyes to the roof. Picking up his luggage, he then left the room, slamming the door so loudly, it shook the walls.

“Where is my wife?” Simon found the proprietor in the kitchen with a woman who was presumably his own wife. Both looked at him in wide-eyed terror as he stormed in. “Answer the bloody question, or last night’s mess will seem like a tea party compared to what I will do to this place.”

“Our son drove her in his cart to catch the stage to Liverpool, my lord.”

“In a cart!” Simon cursed again, this time dredging up a few words he normally used only when alone. “And did you not think letting a young woman leave here with only one man for company would be dangerous?”

“Henry knows the shortcuts, my lord. People rarely travel those roads.”

“How much did she pay you?”

The proprietor edged closer to his wife, bloody coward that he was. “A great deal, my lord.”

Simon had never wanted to hit someone more than he did right now. However, his knuckles were raw and his body ached. Furthermore, he needed to get to Claire before she fell into more trouble. “How long ago did she leave?” The words were snapped out at as quickly as a bullet fired from a gun.

“Last night–not long after you retired, my lord.”

But she was in a cart that would travel much slower than he could, Simon calculated. “Draw me a map with the route they took, and be quick about it.”

“Can’t say as I can write or draw, my lord,” the man said, swallowing.

Gritting his teeth, Simon exhaled slowly. “Tell me the roads he took, then.”

The man stuttered out several words, one on top of the other, which Simon tried and failed to decipher, and just as he was about to wrap his fingers around his neck, the wife elbowed the fool aside and told him in a clear voice what he wanted to know. Without another word, Simon turned on his heel and stalked away.

His carriage was waiting, and he retold the directions to his drivers, both of whom had colorful bruises to match his. “They’re in a cart, so we should catch them before they reach their destination, if not just as they arrive. His men merely nodded, obviously noting the look of fury burning behind his eyes. “Go as fast as you can, Merlin. I fear for her safety if left alone too long.”

“We’ll get to her before trouble strikes, my lord.”

Nodding, Simon felt a small grain of reassurance from his stoic coachman’s words. Climbing inside, he then prayed.

They traveled roads that were not well used, so the journey was not a comfortable one for a man whose body was not in good form. His ribs hurt. His face ached, and when they hit a rut and he gripped the strap above his head to steady himself, his knuckles protested furiously.

“I will shake you, Claire Belmont, until your teeth rattle. Then I will sit you across from me and lecture you for hours,” he muttered. Christ, was she safe? Had she already fallen on trouble?

Closing his eyes, he rested his aching head on the back of the seat while bracing his boots on the one opposite. He could see her as she had looked last night, standing on that table, his gun braced in her hands and that ferocious look on her flushed face. She’d been ready to take them all on, every man in the room, and each one, Simon was sure, had envied him at that moment. She’d stood there with her pretty dress on and demanded every man but the three that belonged to her leave.