be well. She would never be all right. Life without Simon would be miserable.
Inhaling deeply, she brushed aside her tears. She could do this...for him. After almost losing him, she had to let him go to save him.
THE NEXT MORNING BEFORE anyone else awoke, Emma packed her few things and wrote a note to Louisa. She placed her sister’s letter next to the long one she’d written Simon last night. A part of her felt horrible for writing to him when she should have spoken to him in person. But she also knew that he would attempt to convince her that he would be fine without Hell.
She knew he would need something to do. He wasn’t the sort of man to sit idle. And he couldn’t afford to either. While the late duke had settled some money on Simon, Emma knew it couldn’t be that much. She assumed he’d bought those beautiful horses and carriage with the money.
With a sigh, she picked up her valise and quietly walked downstairs.
“Good morning, Miss Drake,” a footman said as she reached the bottom step.
“Good morning, Raymond. Could you please hail a hackney for me? I need to return to my mother’s home.”
“I’ll have the coach brought around, miss. Her Grace would be horrified if I let you go in a hackney.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s tea and coffee in the morning room while you wait,” Raymond said with a smile.
“Thank you. I will wait there.”
Emma walked to the bright morning room and poured herself a cup of strong coffee. Sitting at the table, she sipped her coffee. Was she doing the right thing? Yes. She had to keep telling herself that no matter how much her heart felt like it was shattering.
After spending most of the night tossing and turning, the coffee helped her focus her thoughts. Her heart might be breaking, but doing what was right for him must be her priority. He had nothing but Hell.
So why did she feel so guilty for running off without telling even her sister?
She took another sip of the strong drink. She knew her sister, Harry, and especially Simon, would only try to talk her out of her decision.
Hearing footsteps, her heart sank, assuming she’d been caught trying to sneak off. She glanced up to see the footman at the threshold.
“Yes, Raymond?”
“The coach is coming around front now.”
“Thank you.”
She rose from her seat and walked to the hall. Raymond opened the door as the coach rolled to a stop.
“Going somewhere?” a deep angry voice asked from the top of the stairs.
Her knees almost gave out at the sound of his voice. She wanted to run to him, put her arms around him, and beg him to stop her from running.
“Yes.” Emma walked out of the house with her head held high and tears streaming down her cheeks.
Chapter 25
Simon stared at Emma’s back as she walked out the door. Fury overtook him. He strode down the stairs or at least attempted to in his frail condition. Reaching the bottom, he clung to the newel post like an unsteady toddler.
“Should you be up, sir?” Raymond asked, concerning lining his voice.
“I’m perfectly well now. Where did Miss Drake go?”
“To her mother’s home.”
Dammit! Back to the security of the mother hen, who would protect her daughter and force her to marry the right man. At least the right man in her mother’s opinion. Not necessarily suitable for Emma.
Did she think that would stop him?
Not this time.
And perhaps the first step would be to remove her from her mother’s influence. He needed a plan.
He turned around and walked back upstairs, fighting the exhaustion that tried to knock him back. At least this morning, he’d been able to walk down the stairs and make it halfway up before feeling out of breath.
“Raymond, please send coffee to my room.”
“Of course, sir.”
Simon walked up the remaining steps and then hurled open the door to her bedchamber. Seeing the two letters on the bed, he picked up them both and returned to his room. He sat down at the desk and opened the one with his name.
He read the note in confusion. Why did Emma care if he sold Hell? Her letter said she couldn’t let him sell his business after he’d built it into something so grand.
Grand?
Hell was just a gaming hell. Perhaps a little more fashionable than some of the others, but still, he catered mostly to bored gentlemen spending more money than they should. Vice. Pure and simple.
Could she really think he would want