Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

C hristian rose as Louise jumped to her feet. He ran to the door and out into the corridor, looking around for the source of the smell.

His heart pounding, he saw a faint orange glow coming from one of the corridors opposite him. He grabbed Louise’s hand and pulled her along with him. But as he opened the door, he found the morning room ablaze.

Christian stepped back; the heat of the flames was already too much for him to get closer. One of the settees and a large chunk of the corner of the room was on fire. He coughed as the smoke billowed out into the corridors, and he stepped back, pulling Louise with him.

“We must get out of the house,” Louise urged, pulling him toward the door, but he stopped her.

“My mother. We must get her out.”

Louise’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “I shall get Jack, you go get your mother. I shall ensure that the servants escape unharmed.”

Christian gripped her wrist, panic thrumming through his veins at the thought of leaving her.

“Be careful. Do not come near this part of the house again.”

They were both coughing now as the smoke began to fill the wide entrance hall.

“You do the same,” she said.

For a suspended moment, they stood staring at one another. Christian was sure that Louise was worried for his safety, but time was of the essence. With a final nod of reassurance to his wife, Christian ran to the stairs and up to the first floor of the house.

He looked around frantically as smoke began to spread into the halls and slither beneath the doors.

He ran to Marcus’s room and hammered on the door. He heard rapid footsteps inside before Marcus, half-dressed and clearly having been abed, opened the door, staring at him in alarm.

“Christian? What is it?”

“The house is on fire. We must get Mother.”

Marcus was all action suddenly, running to a chair to pick up his coat and ringing the bell repeatedly. They sprinted across the landing to their mother’s suite, and Christian burst into the room, hearing a shrill cry from his mother’s chair beside the fire.

She stood up, her eyes wild, looking between them in confusion.

“Mother, we must get out of the house. It is on fire!” Christian ran forward and collected a thick shawl from the chair beside her, before helping her out.

“On fire?” the Dowager Duchess echoed, aghast. “How?”

“I do not know yet, but we must get you to safety.”

Marcus stepped forward, taking their mother’s arm. “Where is Louise?” he asked with concern.

“She has gone to fetch that damned kitten and ensure the kitchen maids get out safely,” Christian muttered as they reached the corridor. “Marcus, can you see to Mother? Do not come back into the house under any circumstances and take her down the back stairs. I must see to the staff and my wife.”

“Of course, go!” Marcus barked.

Christian set off at a run down the wide stairs and into the hallway. Several servants were carrying pails of water to the morning room, many of them young girls and boys who worked as footmen and maids in his house.

“Go outside!” he shouted. “Do not risk your lives for this. Take the water outside, and if you can douse the flames from there, do it, but do not breathe in the smoke. Out, out!” he bellowed and ushered them toward the front door.

Satisfied that they were carrying the water outside and were not immediately at risk, Christian ran to the kitchens, where he opened the door to chaos.

Several panicked servants were running about as the housekeeper shouted instructions over the din.

Fenwick was a pillar of calm in the center, directing the boys and footmen to leave the house. Christian looked around for Louise but could not see her anywhere.

“Fenwick!” he shouted.

“Yes, Your Grace.” The butler came forward instantly.

“Where is the Duchess?”

“I have not seen her, Your Grace. She came to retrieve the kitten and went to find you.”

Christian swore. “Fenwick, get out of the house as quickly as you can.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Do not leave any servants behind,” Christian insisted as he turned and went back into the house to find Louise.

Panic had seized him. He was convinced that he would somehow walk into the corridor and find his wife on fire or screaming for help.

I cannot lose her.

The thought was clear as day in his mind.

Not now. Not ever.

As he reached the entrance hall, he let out a sigh of relief when he spotted her looking up the stairs, where Marcus and his mother were making their way out of the house. She had Jack in her arms and was clutching him tightly to her.

“Louise,” he said desperately. “Why did you not leave?”

“I wanted to ensure you were safe!” she cried, glancing behind her as the remainder of the servants brought more water and ran outside.

“Come, let us get out of the smoke.”

The orange glow beneath the door seemed to have grown enormously since he had first seen it, and he dragged her outside as his lungs constricted around the toxic fumes.

They ran around the side of the house to the terrace, where a line of servants were dousing the flames with water from the well in the gardens.

Christian looked up at his beloved home, pain gnawing at his chest as he watched the smoke billow upward, obscuring the stars.

“Stay here,” he said to Louise.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, alarmed.

“I must help them, but you stay with my mother and Marcus. Do not go near the house. Please, Louise.”

She nodded.

He ran to the front of the line and grabbed a bucket, getting to work as the servants kept pouring water on the flames. He stepped as far into the house as he dared, throwing as much water as he could on the fire. To his relief, the flames seemed contained to the corner and had not yet had a chance to spread to the ceiling.

There was an enormous amount of smoke, but it seemed that only the settee and the rug beneath it had been damaged. The heat of the fire had lessened, and as they continued their efforts, the flames slowly died down.

Fenwick appeared at Christian’s side, holding a great mass of fabric. Christian recognized it as the old curtains that had once hung in the drawing room, and he and Fenwick threw them over the remaining flames, extinguishing them completely.

As he coughed against the smoke, Christian held out his hand to Fenwick, who shook it warmly. They looked down at the ruined corner of the room. The wallpaper was black, the rug ruined, and the settee a charred ember of its former self, but everyone was alive.

Christian looked back at the servants, all of whom were safe, and then his eyes flicked to his mother and Marcus, who stood on the lawn, watching in silence.

Louise was standing beside them, Jack cradled in her arms, and as their eyes met, Christian felt the same, yawning fear seize him at the thought that he might have lost her.

After denying that he needed her all this time, the notion of life without her was unbearable. How did she become so vital to him?

He slowly walked away from the house as the last tendrils of smoke drifted away into the night. The acrid smell of charred wood and fabric burned his nostrils as he descended the steps and crossed the garden toward his family.

“Is everything well?” he asked as he reached them.

His mother was staring at the blackened walls of the house. The fire had shattered the glass panes of the terrace doors—it was an unpleasant and gloomy sight.

“How did this happen?” she whispered.

“I do not know,” Christian replied somberly, “but we are all safe. That is what matters.”

Louise stepped forward then, and the kitten in her arms mewed at him as she stared at the destruction before them. Her face was a mask of uncertainty and fear, and all Christian wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her. She did not look at him, her back rigid.

“Your Grace?”

Christian turned to find Fenwick standing before him. Beside him was a stable boy who could not have been more than fifteen.

“Would you tell His Grace what you told me, Larkin?” Fenwick prompted.

The boy gazed up at Christian, looking terrified to be in the presence of his master.

“What is it, young man?” Christian asked.

Larkin twisted his cap in his hands and glanced at Fenwick before he eventually mustered his courage and began to speak.

“I was out seein’ to the horses, Your Grace, and I heard someone movin’ outside. I thought it was odd, as all the horses were away for the night, so I went out to see who it was. I saw a man runnin’ away. The man who came with the lady.”

Christian frowned at him. “The lady?” He looked at Fenwick.

The butler’s expression was grave. “Larkin was working when Lord and Lady Northbridge came for tea, Your Grace.”

Christian clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “You are certain it was the same man?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The boy nodded once. “I always remember a rude cove.”

Fenwick made a noise in the back of his throat, and Larkin stopped talking.

Christian swallowed and glanced at Louise, whose eyes were wide with shock. She looked as pale as a ghost.

“Thank you, Fenwick,” he muttered. “Please ensure that Larkin is rewarded for his honesty.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Fenwick said and bowed as he retreated.

Christian turned back to his mother and brother. Marcus’s face was dark with fury, his eyes hard and cold.

“The Earl did this?” he hissed.

“So it would seem,” Christian murmured, but his attention was focused on Louise.

She was as still as a statue, watching the retreating figures of Larkin and Fenwick.

“Louise?” Christian said gently. “Are you all right?”

She turned to him, the expression on her face one he had not seen for several days. The Ice Queen was back, and the cold, steely look she gave him made his stomach churn.

“I never would have thought my father capable of this,” she mumbled, her eyes glistening with tears. “How could he do this? Why would he do this? I can only apologize to you, Your Grace.” She swallowed as she looked back at the house.

Christian was about to scold her for using his title again, but as he studied her face, she did not seem entirely present. Her eyes were glazed over, staring ahead of her in shock.

“Come,” he sighed. “Let us return to the house. If the smoke has cleared, we should all get some rest and deal with everything else tomorrow.”

He offered her his arm, but she moved past him. She did not touch or look at him as they all walked into the house.

It was like looking at a stranger, and his heart ached to see it.

I will make the Earl pay for this. He will rue the day he ever tried to hurt my wife.