The crashes from the crumbling church covered her words. She couldn’t see anything aside from his dark cloak and red jacket. The shaking seemed to go on for hours as the church disintegrated around them. The deafening chime of a church bell, followed by a thundering, metallic sound, meant the bell tower had collapsed. Dust thickened the air, suffocating her. The man never let her go, pulling her against his chest. Surprise more than fear caused her breath to hitch, but the protective way he held her slowed her pulse.
He let her go when the world stopped shaking. She coughed as the air turned heavier than a blanket over her nose. Dust covered her lips, and only a few rays of sunlight filtered through the rubble piled around them. She and the stranger exchanged a terrified glance. He breathed hard, and his eyes were impossibly wide. Fine particles, like talc, whitened the top of his head and his eyelashes.
“Are you hurt?” He checked her face with clinical intent.
She passed a hand over her cheeks and chin, feeling the dust stuck on her skin. “I don’t think so. You?”
“All in one piece. Just scared.” He crawled out from under the altar although there wasn’t anywhere to go. The debris covering his cloak slid down when he moved. “Don’t move for now.”
She curled up in a corner and hugged her bent knees as he explored the narrow space around their shelter. Pieces of broken Grecian columns, statues, and masonry formed an enclosing cave around them with fissures and cracks from which sunlight filtered through. The man didn’t go far, only a couple of feet, and he couldn’t stand up so cramped the space was.
He wiped the dirt from his face. A shallow cut on his cheek bled. “We’re sealed here. I don’t want to move anything. The entire structure might collapse. There isn’t much we can do but wait for someone to remove the rubble.” He plopped himself down next to her with a loud exhale.
“I can’t stay here. My son was right outside the church when the earthquake started. I must see how he’s faring.” Her breath came out in quick pants. “What if he needs help? What if he’s injured?” She started to crawl out of the altar, but he stopped her, holding her by her waist.
“We must wait.” Reasonable words, but her heart ordered her to run.
“I can’t.” She gripped his arm. “My son is out there.”
He gently pulled her back. “You’re going to hurt yourself. I don’t have the strength to move these large boulders. Someone will come soon.”
“But David…” A lump swelled in her throat, cracking her voice at the thought of David lying under the rubble.
He closed his big, rough hands around hers. “If he was outside in the open, then he’s likely faring better than we are. Where was he exactly?”
She let him hold her hands, needing this stranger’s comfort. “He was under the old oak tree close to the river, playing cards with his governess.”
“I’m sure he’s all right. That tree is strong and steady. During an earthquake, it’s better to be under a tree than in a house or an old church.” He sat next to her, releasing her hands.
She rubbed her aching forehead, controlling her breathing. The man was right. David would be fine.
He watched her as if worried she might rush to remove the rubble and kill them both. “It’s hardly appropriate, but given the circumstances, I’m going to introduce myself. I’m EthanHertford, Lord Captain in the Seventh Royal Fusiliers.” He bowed his head. “What’s your name, madam?”
The name stunned her. Not that she knew what a captain was or did compared to a commander, but Hertford was a family name she recognised. He was the son of the Marquess of Stark. “I’m Cora Hadder… I mean Wiley. Hadder is my maiden name. My husband is Lord Jacob Wiley, Earl of Roxbury.”
At the mention of her husband, he narrowed his eyes to slits. “It’s a shame we met in such an unfortunate situation, Lady Roxbury.”
Despite all those years, the title ‘Lady Roxbury’ didn’t sound as if it belonged to her. “Please call me Cora, my lord. The circumstances are rather informal.”
“Then please call me Ethan.” He flashed a grin she might have found charming if it weren’t for her worry about David.
She cleared her throat and swallowed a lump of dust. “ You’re the son of the Marquess of Stark. I met your father, Lord Stark. You look like him.”
He ran a hand through his thick curls. Dust rained from them. “Yes, the marquess is my father.”
She couldn’t ignore the way his voice softened. “Do you know my husband?”
He stretched out his long legs as much as the confined space allowed. “A bowing acquaintance. I can’t say I know the earl well.”
Cora wished she could say the same.
His jaw clenched. “Is your husband in Colchester as well?”
Heavens, that would be a nightmare worse than an earthquake. “No. I’m here with my son David to visit the country and take a moment of rest from London’s busy life and coal smell. Children need to spend time outdoors and breathe some fresh air.”
“I have to take your word for it. I’m afraid I haven’t spent a lot of time with children, thank goodness,” he whispered the last two words.
“You don’t like children.” She couldn’t completely remove the hint of disapproval from her voice.
