Regardless of their plans, they had brought scandal to Cadwallader Park.
Had their relationship started in London? Did they intend to marry, or would they continue their liaison behind closed doors? What about Josephine? Widow De Clare must know the affair would damage her daughter’s social standing.
She must know this would break Josephine’s heart.
Elias rose to his feet. He wanted to kick open Sebastian’s door. He wanted to beg the couple to mend their wrongs. But his chest ached. His eyelids dipped.
Nothing could reverse this harm, so Elias went to his bedroom and cried.
An eerie stillness invaded Cadwallader, silencing all creaks and groans as if snow had frozen the manor into a deep slumber. Even the smouldering fireplaces seemed to beg for rest, but Elias didn’t sleep. He paced his room until the black of night lightened to grey, then blue.
Mrs. Capers would be toiling in the kitchen by now, concocting a Christmas breakfast spread to satisfy post-ball stomachs. Perhaps she could tell Elias what to do next, help him decide whether he should keep his mouth shut or expose Sebastian and Widow De Clare.
Elias changed his waistcoat and jacket, then dabbed his neck with cologne. Still, he reeked of sweat and stale breath. He needed to bathe. He needed to crawl under a blanket and sleep the day away. Fatigue settled in his gut like a brick, nauseating him.
He sat on the bed and leaned against its headboard, his shoulders relaxing into a pillow. He must tell Josephine what he’d witnessed. She deserved to know about the affair before news of it spread. But how could he deliver the news without causing her immense pain?
No arrangement of the truth could ease what her mother had done.
By the time Elias awoke, the morning had turned from blue to gold. He rolled off the bed and rushed to the door. Breakfast would’ve been served by now, which meant Elias wouldn’t be able to speak with Mrs. Capers before he laid eyes on Sebastian. The Darlings expected him to attend the meal. Such was a Christmas tradition. Indeed, he would have to control himself, for a surge of emotion might cause him to throw a punch at his cousin.
Elias went to the dining room and stopped dead in his tracks.
Kitty and Miss Karel sat at the table while Fitz wormed across the floor. They dined alone, surrounded by platters of steaming food.
“Where is everyone?” Elias asked, his heart racing as he surveyed the spread of untouched plates and silverware. Whatever had caused the adults to skip breakfast left behind a stench—the nagging sense of catastrophe.
“Ladies went to the drawing room,” Fitz said as he wallowed on the rug, his pantaloons bunching around his knees. “Papa and Uncle Welby left hours ago.”
“They’re searching for Sebastian and Widow De Clare,” Kitty said. She turned in her chair and looked at Elias with puffy eyes. Her expression confirmed his fears.
Sebastian and Widow De Clare had run off together.
“Dimwits. They won’t get far, not in the snow.” Miss Karel hunched over a dish of porridge. She clutched her forehead, perhaps suffering the delayed consequences of too much wine. “Pass the sugar, would you?”
Kitty handed the governess a sugar bowl. She glanced at Elias again, her nose reddening. “Sebastian ran off with the widow,” she whispered. “He claims to love her.”
Elias clenched his fists. “How do you know?”
“He pinned a note to his bedroom door.” Kitty lifted a teacup and sipped from its rim. She appeared out of sorts, her curls unbrushed, her face pale and splotchy.
“Josephine,” Elias gasped. “Where is Josephine?” He blinked to refocus himself, but his mind swirled with memories of Sebastian and Widow De Clare.
“Mother took her into the drawing room,” Fitz said.
“She knows?” Elias winced as pressure flooded his chest.
Josephine had received the news with everyone else. She’d woken this morning, perhaps content from the night before, only to learn her mother had run off with her betrothed. The information must’ve been a shock—an agonizing blow. Indeed, Widow De Clare did not know about Josephine’s relationship with Elias. She had permitted an affair with Sebastian, believing her daughter would marry him. How could a mother be so cruel?
Elias turned and bolted down the hallway. Each step blurred the house into a tunnel where Sebastian stood at one end, grinning as he whispered, “You should’ve seen this coming.” Of course, Elias should have realized the couple would attempt to flee. He might’ve been able to prevent this madness if he hadn’t kept quiet.
Mrs. Darling perked in her chair when Elias entered the drawing room. She and Lady Welby sat across from Josephine while a maid flitted about the space, plucking evergreen needles from the carpet. “Did you hear?” she asked.
“Yes.” Elias crouched next to Josephine, who sat on a chaise lounge, stiff as a board. He examined her face—the dark circles beneath her bloodshot eyes, her vacant expression. The news had broken her spirit.
How devastating, for she was the most complete person in his acquaintance.
“Sebastian makes a sport of my nerves,” Mrs. Darling huffed. She propped her feet on an ottoman and fanned herself with a book. “How could he do this?”
“That woman took advantage of him,” Lady Welby said, her eyebrows lifting into sanctimonious peaks. “Widows prey upon young men, especially those with fortune. I read about similar cases in the newspaper. Just last year, Mr. Beauchamp’s widow eloped with a gentleman not quite twenty.” She pursed her lips with disapproval. “Indeed, do not blame your son, for men cannot resist the lure of mature women.”
“Oh, I do blame him, that wretched boy.” Mrs. Darling dabbed her nose with the hem of her apron, snivelling as Lady Welby stoked the fire. “I don’t understand. He was betrothed to dear Josephine. Look at her. She’s delightful.”
Josephine crushed a handkerchief between
