“We’ve not lit any candles this morning,” Polly said. “And no one’s been cooking.”
“Sun’s bright,” Ruth added. “No need to.”
What in heaven’s name had happened, then? She needed a closer look, and she was pulling out of her maid and footman’s hold before they could stop her, heading toward the smoke now billowing out of ground floor windows toward the sky.
“What’s that?” Freddy grumbled, shoving her behind him.
Caroline saw it, too. Movement at the side of the house near the conservatory. “A person!”
“Stay here,” Freddy demanded, and then he took off.
But what if he needed help? Caroline took off, too. She made it halfway around the side of the house when someone caught her arm, swung her around. She cried out.
“Don’t get near!” Felix barked, holding her tightly.
“Felix!” She threw herself at him, hugging him tight, letting her tears flow. “You came back. You came back!”
A grunt, a growl, breaking glass.
Felix kissed her. “Stay here.”
Every muscle in her body screamed to keep him tethered to her side, but she released him. Then followed him. Flames licked at the conservatory windows. If smoke were a harbinger, flame was the tragedy it announced.
Two men grappled on the ground some ways away from the house. Freddy and…
“Mr. Smith,” Caroline hissed. Had he done this?
“I said stay back,” Felix yelled, throwing his arm out toward her. He inched toward the fight, and when Mr. Smith had Freddy pinned, Felix leapt, tackling Mr. Smith and pinning him to the ground with a solid bone-crunching punch. And another. And another.
Hair wild and fist flying, Felix did not seem likely to let up. Until Freddy, surging to his feet, pulled him off.
“We need ’im able to talk, my lord.” Freddy dragged Mr. Smith toward the gardens, and Felix stood, turning at the same time to face the house, flames reflected in his eyes.
Without warning, he ran for those licking at the conservatory windows.
“Felix, no!”
If he heard her, he didn’t show it. He threw open the door and dove in. Tried to, his arm raised to his face, the heat drenching him in orange.
She tried to pull him back. “No, Felix. Don’t!”
“That’s your dream!” He smelled like smoke and his gaze was glued to the fire, his blue eyes leaping with the conflagration. “I won’t let it burn.” He shook her off and disappeared into the smoke.
The last thingFelix heard other than the creak of burning wood was his wife’s voice wailing for him not to be a nodcock.
He grinned, the excitement of danger pumping his blood. God, he loved her. And he wasn’t about to let some damn fire set by a fool with a fist where his heart should be ruin her dream.
His first thought on seeing smoke rising from Hawthorne?
Good. Let it burn.
His second thought?
Caro.His heart had almost stopped. But then he’d seen her on the drive, pacing. She’d tried to run, but Freddy and Miss Polly had caught her, tried to hold her back before she’d slipped from their grasp. He’d watched her dart around the side of the house, too, toward the flames. Brave, bold Caroline.
He coughed, the smoke burning his eyes. How had the man started the fire? This room had been cleaned out over a week ago, debris and tangled, dead plants tossed—
Oh hell.He saw it through the haze. A pile of old roots and dry limbs, burning with glee. Smith had set that aflame easily. And it had burned bright and hot. Quickly. Already dwindling, but its arms reaching up the walls.
