A/N: I apologize that this chapter is so short. But, I felt that this scene needed to stand by itself. I also apologize that it isn't Cobert. But, it's something that I feel needed to happen within this story. Don't worry; the next chapter is nothing but Cobert.
I would also like to take the opportunity to thank you all for the tremendous support that you've given me over the past couple of days. It is humbling and overwhelming, and truly means the world to me.
Chapter 7
Cora sat at her dressing table, her eyes closed as her maid loosened her hair. With each curl that fell from her chignon, she felt her anger and irritation over the events of the evening begin to dissipate. She wished her mother had never planned the silly ball in the first place. She wished Andrew Livingston had never been invited. She wished she had never agreed to dance with him. She wished she had slapped him herself. She almost wished they hadn't come to New York at all. But, more than anything, she wished that she had not let her own temper get the best of her.
She knew how fiercely protective her husband was of her. It was one of the things she loved most about him. And she had been frightened when Andrew had to let her go after their dance. Was what Robert had done really so awful in comparison to whatever plans Livingston had in mind?
She buried her face in her hands momentarily, releasing a deep sigh as she pictured the crestfallen look on his face when she had railed against him on the balcony. She had overreacted, and she knew it. But, she also knew the people of New York's high society. An event like this would likely be fodder for tittle-tattle for weeks to come.
A knock at the door drew her out of her reverie. "Who is it?"
"It's Harold," she heard from the other side. "May I come in?"
She prayed her brother wasn't in his usual form. Her already-frayed nerves couldn't take it. "Of course." She turned to her maid as he stepped into the room. "Thank you. I can manage from here." She waited until the door had closed before she spoke again. "Did you need something?"
Harold cleared his throat. "I wanted to tell you that Dr. Halsted* is downstairs with Robert."
Cora's eyes widened. "Is he alright? Please tell me he's alright."
"I think so. His knuckles are bruised, and I'm fairly certain that his nose is broken." Cora covered her mouth to stifle the gasp that escaped her lips. "But, he'll be fine. I think his conscience is bruised more than anything else."
"I flew off the handle, and I shouldn't have," Cora looked down in shame. "I just know how important our family's reputation is to Mother, especially, and I could just imagine the gossip that would ensue after a night like tonight. Is she furious? Is Poppa?"
Her brother's laugh surprised her. "Not in the least," he said, taking a seat on the bed as he faced her. "I don't think I've ever seen either of them so proud. For the rest of the evening, Mother was boasting about her 'brave and gallant son-in-law'. And the gossip you imagine? Everyone told me how happy they were that you had found a man who loved you so much. It was Andrew's impropriety they were gossiping about; not you or Robert."
Cora couldn't quite take this in. The glances and whispers she thought she had seen and heard. Had it really all just been a figment of her imagination? And she had called her husband a common ruffian, blasting him for his own temper when she had let go of the reign she had on hers. Oh, God. What had she done?
"Listen, Cora. I know I always give you a hard time." Cora raised her eyebrows as he continued. "And I know I gave you a lot of grief when you announced that you were going to marry Robert."
"You did," Cora agreed quietly.
"But, it wasn't because I wasn't happy for you. It was because I was worried for you."
"Worried for me?" Who was this person sitting before her, and what had they done with her younger brother?
"You're my sister, and I didn't want you to end up leading a life with which you were unhappy," Harold continued. "I know how hesitant you were to travel to England in the first place. I had also heard too many stories of young American ladies who had done what you did, and ended up in terrible marriages. I hated to think that you were going to do something that would ultimately make you miserable."
"Robert was my choice, Harold," she said gently, moving to sit beside him. "There were several gentlemen during the Season that had their eye on me—well, my fortune, at any rate—with far grander titles than Robert's."
"I know. But, I also knew that Robert, too, was after your money."
"He was, and I knew that, too," Cora affirmed. "But, I also knew that I loved him more than anyone or anything. I still do. And, he loves me, too. Very much, in fact."
"If I didn't know that before tonight, I do now. And, I'm glad." Harold smiled widely. "I'm also terribly impressed. The way he took Andrew down. I never knew the old boy had it in him."
Cora laughed at his observation. "The English aren't as reserved as some might think."
"Well, I wouldn't know," Harold shrugged. "I've only been there once."
"You should come visit us. We would love to have you, Harold. I think you'd quite enjoy it."
"No, thank you. I prefer to stay on American soil." He leaned over to kiss his sister's cheek. "But, I appreciate the invitation." He smiled as Cora nodded. "You should go down and check on Robert. I'm sure the doctor has finished with him by now."
"No, I should probably leave him be tonight. I was too harsh to him earlier. I don't want to upset him again." She wanted nothing more than to run down the stairs to him; to take him into her arms and never let him go.
"If you're sure, Cora," Harold said, standing from the bed and walking toward the door. "But, I still think you should."
"Maybe."
"Anyway. I'll say goodnight. See you in the morning."
"Goodnight," Cora offered. "And, Harold?" Her brother turned expectantly. "Thank you." He smiled again for closing the door behind him.
*Dr. Halsted is the name of an actual doctor who practiced medicine in New York City at the time this story takes place.
