Chapter 22

"Alex, what is it? What is going on?" Emmaline demanded even as he and Sean started to hurry off in the direction his close friend had come running. Lorraine reached her at almost the same moment and clutched hold of her arm tightly.

"You ought to see this too," her sister-in-law whispered to her discreetly, glancing over her shoulder at the crowd gathering upon the lawn. Everyone appeared much too preoccupied to be worried on what they were saying. In fact, they were all staring in much the same direction as Sean and Alex were running.

"Stay here, both of you!" Alex yelled over his shoulder, but Emmaline had already begun to follow.

Arm in arm with Lorraine, she hurried after the men, holding up her skirts to stop from tripping. Whatever was going on, she was determined to know what it was. With how Alex had been acting, especially the last few days, she had a sneaking suspicion that something was very wrong indeed.

And when the tree standing beside the house came into view, Emmaline knew exactly why. There, lit by what appeared to be a hundred lanterns, was a devil's head carved and burned into the trunk for all to see.

Bile rose in Emmaline's throat. Nausea twisted her stomach so violently into knots that she almost couldn't contain it. Clutching Lorraine's arm tighter with one hand, she used the other to cover her mouth.

"Keep them back, Sean!" Alex ordered, gesturing back towards the women. As the good friend he was, Sean listened without question and returned to the ladies, holding Lorraine close as if it were far more than a mere friendship.

"Oh, Sean!" Lorraine cried, releasing Emmaline's arm as she swept into his arms and buried her face in his chest. "This is awful!"

And the reaction of the two set Emmaline's mind focusing on what she had already suspected. The blaze that had begun inside, the one that she had already heard whispers of a candle being left too close to the drapes, had been no accident.

The devil's head marked upon the bark told her all she needed to know. All the terrible deeds that her husband had committed in the name of his family, in the hopes of one day making the world a better place, had finally come back to haunt him.

Someone was sending him a warning. And yet, Emmaline felt the target landing just as heavily upon her own back. She was his wife. If somebody wanted to hurt the supposedly most deadly man in London, who would they threaten? Not the man himself but those closest to him. Emmaline was no fool.

And yet, as she stood there, watching the flames of the lanterns flicker in a way that made the devil's face gruesome and grotesque, she straightened her back and decided, whoever you are. You shall not have us!

Yet as Alex came rushing back towards her to take her in his arms just as Sean had Lorraine, she felt small and weak and in need of protection. Nuzzling herself against his chest, she whispered, "Alex, please, get me out of here."

Already, she could hear the whispers of those safe upon the lawn. One would never have known how close they were to losing their lives had they been trapped in that house for they were all clucking away like hens, considering the reason for all that had just happened, wondering who might be brave enough to go against the devil himself.

Emmaline had never been in a carriage that drove so fast. She was quite certain that her husband had put the fear of God into the poor coachman.

All the way home, he held her close whilst Sean did the same with Lorraine on the opposite side of the carriage. It was an odd thing, she thought, that not a one of them thought to remove their masks. It was as if they hoped they could hide their identities and only take them off once in the safety of Westmarch House.

The flight from the carriage to the house was hastened by Benedict's already having opened the door upon their arrival. Whether he had been waiting at the window or Sean had sent a messenger on ahead, Emmaline did not know, but she was relieved either way.

"First things first, Benedict, drinks!" Sean ordered the second they were through the door whilst Alex removed Emmaline's mask and handed it to Mrs. Farthing.

Benedict looked to his master and only disappeared on a nod from Alex.

"Sean, see the door locked," Alex instructed before he called, "Benedict, see every man in my employ brought to my study!"

There was no response but with a voice as booming and commanding as his, the butler was certain to have heard.

Alex then turned to his sister and scowled. "You should never have come home, my dear, sweet sister."

He reached for her face and stroked her cheek as if to take the sting out of his words.

"I am here now," Lorraine responded, her voice hard as stone though her dark eyes betrayed the turmoil inside.

Having removed her mask, she discarded it on the nearest table and reached for Sean. The man came to her as if he had no fear of being close to his closest friend's sister. Emmaline wondered whether there had perhaps been something between them for some time but perhaps it was simply the fact they had grown together.

Alex turned to her again and took hold of both her hands in his. Bringing them to his lips, he said, "Fear not. I will take care of this."

Emmaline wanted so badly to tell him that they would handle this together but, in that moment, she could not even open her mouth to speak. Instead, she offered him a weak half-smile and tiptoed to kiss his cheek.

Still holding one of her hands, he guided her toward his sister and said, "Sean, see the ladies to the drawing room. I shall join you presently."

Then with a peck to Emmaline's hand, he was gone down the hall toward his study.

It was only then that Emmaline found her voice. Looking his friend in the eye, she asked, "Sean, just how bad is this?"

Sean's face fell for only a second before he picked it back up again, straightened his bad to the point it was as if he had a rod strapped to him and declared, "All will be well, Your Grace."

Emmaline wanted to believe him desperately but the pale faces before her made her far less hopeful.

"Come," Sean instructed gently, guiding Lorraine down the hall. "Your Grace, please?"

It was only when he paused that Emmaline realized she had been frozen to the spot. The heat of the flames and the burning brand in the tree were gone. Now she felt numb with cold. There was only one place she might ever feel warm again, in Alex's arms, and right then he felt worlds away.

No more than ten minutes could have passed before Alex joined them in the drawing room and yet it felt like an eternity.

Watching Lorraine and Sean sitting together, the lady with her head rested upon his shoulder, his arm around her, Emmaline's chest felt tight. And she was most relieved when Alex swept into the room, dropping down onto the couch beside her before she could even think to rise to greet him.

"Come here," he told her as if he knew exactly what it was that she needed. She had barely started to lean toward him when he pulled her into his arms. "Fear not, the men have been given their orders. Nobody is to sleep tonight until we have gotten to the bottom of this."

It was Lorraine who lifted her head and asked the question everybody was thinking. "What do you think this is all about?"

Alex stiffened beside Emmaline.

For a second, she thought perhaps he might lie, perhaps he might tell her that he had no clue as to what this was about. Emmaline had no true way of knowing exactly what Lorraine was aware of when it came to her brother's dealings.

But then Alex looked his sister dead in the eye and admitted, "Lorraine, you know as well as I do that there are a great many things that could have brought this down on us."

"Can we truly be certain this was meant for us?" Lorraine asked and Emmaline's own heart broke for her. Deep down, they all knew the truth, no matter how much they wished to bury it.

Emmaline nuzzled closer to Alex. Her stepmother might have scolded her for acting so inappropriately in mixed company but in that moment all she needed was his warmth. So long as his arms were around her, nothing could touch her. At least, that was what her heart believed.

He placed his hand on the back of her head and stroked gently, holding her to him as if he did not give a fig either. Besides, Sean had seen more than his fair share within the club. A hundred people or more had seen her sitting upon the devil's lap night after night. Cuddling for consolation with her husband before his closest friend and sister was some small sin indeed.

The tension in the room only deepened when the booming sound of the brass knocker on the front door sounded.

Emmaline sat bolt upright. "Who could that be at this hour?"

"I shall see," Sean offered but Alex shook his head.

No sooner had he done so than the sound of hurried bootsteps rang out on the marble floor outside the door.

Seconds later, the door burst open, and the imposing figure of Alex's uncle Frederick appeared in the doorway, followed closely behind by his grotesque giant of a man. Emmaline knew not his name only that they called him Tiny. There was simply nothing tiny about him. He made Emmaline feel like an ant about to be crushed at any moment every time he appeared in a room. His cold, seemingly dead stare, chilled her to the bone. It was clear to see why Frederick never left the house without him in his line of work.

"I came as soon as I heard!" Frederick announced, gesturing his man to wait in the corner of the room as he hurried to seat himself in an armchair near the others.

"News gets around fast," Sean scoffed, his distaste for the man quite obvious. Frederick offered the man a grim scowl before he turned back to his nephew.

"We must speak privately, nephew."

Emmaline bit her tongue, fighting the urge to request that Alex remain by her side. The shivering shock in her body had only just begun to subside and she feared its return if he left her.

A different kind of shock coursed through Emmaline when Alex didn't so much as blink as he said, "Whatever you must speak about, speak it here, uncle."

Never had she heard him speak so authoritatively before his uncle. Never had he insisted that she be party to his meetings with the man who made her blood run cold after all of the terrible stories she had heard of him. Though they were few and far between, she suspected there were far worse stories still hiding beneath the surface of this family's blanket.

Whatever he had to talk about, Emmaline wasn't sure she wanted to hear it but if it meant Alex's staying beside her, then she would brave it.

Wishing to support her husband, she sat tall beside him and slipped her hand into his, turning to meet Frederick's gaze just as he did.

"I fear this is not for the ears of ladies," Frederick said, glancing between Emmaline and Lorraine. "The faint of heart should not be party to this."

"Uncle, I—" Lorraine began, as if she meant to assure him she was not so weak as to be shooed like a schoolgirl to her room, but Alex rose to his feet, still holding onto Emmaline's hand.

"I can assure you, Frederick, the women in this family are not faint of heart," he said, his voice little more than a growl. "Speak your piece."

Frederick did not look at all pleased by the latest development but with a grunt, he gestured Tiny forward.

"I received this not two minutes before your messenger arrived," Frederick announced as Tiny stepped forward and produced a letter from his jacket pocket. Emmaline tried her hardest not to cower as the man came close but everything about him, even his stench, turned her stomach.

Alex stared at his uncle a moment longer before he took the letter Tiny offered him. Emmaline could not feel any relief as the man stepped away again for somehow, she felt the weight of that letter as if it was a cannonball thrown at them.

Alex unfolded the letter and began to read, pausing only when Frederick instructed, "If you insist on their knowing everything you ought to read it aloud, dear nephew."

Though his words hinted at some kind of twisted affection, there was nothing affectionate about his tone. In fact, it seemed to drip poison. Perhaps it was simply he was so used to all this violence and frightening people that he failed any longer to turn it off as Alex did. Or perhaps it was something else, Emmaline couldn't be certain.

Alex's face grew pale as he cleared his throat and started to read, "Devil Lord, the time is nye for you to reap all you have sown. If you do not meet our demands, the Tillington's ballroom shall not be the only thing that burns. Your friends, your family, your wife, all shall burn with you."

Emmaline suspected that there was far more to the letter, but Alex choked then, his hands shaking visibility as he pinched the paper just a little harder than before.

"Three days, Alex, we have three days," Frederick said, the urgency in his tone turning Emmaline's stomach as it confirmed her suspicions about the letter.

Panic started to rise in Emmaline. Three days was no time at all.

"What… what do they demand?" Emmaline asked.

Nobody answered. Time seemed to stand still as she stared at her husband, awaiting a response.

Though he no longer wore his disguise from the ball, Emmaline watched the mask fall down over his face as his expression hardened. "It does not matter. We have three days to find them and make them rue the day they ever thought to threaten the devil lord's family."