“I went back to the house after we found the doctor; I’m afraid that nothing was left. I did, however, manage to speak to Lord Dunham; he told me who he truly is and that I should relay the message that Lord Reginald Grey was not in the fire. They suspect that he started the fire and fled,” Lord Ashburton explained before taking a seat.
Anger filled his body as he listened to his friend speak. The bastard had attempted to cover his tracks despite the danger he’d placed upon Charlotte’s life. Attempting to stand, Jameson winced in pain and gritted his teeth against the hot pain. He hadn’t felt it so badly when he’d been carrying Charlotte; all that had been on his mind was getting her to safety.
“Where do you think you are going?” Lady Thornton asked sternly, coming into the room carrying a tray of tea. Placing it down beside Jameson, she placed her hands on her hips and gave him a look that said her question was entirely rhetorical.
“Lord Reginald is on the loose; who knows how many years it will be if he gets away again,” he explained and attempted to stand once again.
Shaking her head, Lady Thornton placed her hand on his good shoulder and pushed him back down. “I have already sent a note to your mother explaining what happened. The doctor will see you after he is done with Lady Charlotte.” She fussed around him like a mother hen, fetching a cushion to place behind his back before pouring the tea.
Lord Ashburton smiled at the motherly display of affection that was annoying his friend. “It just so happens that Lord Dunham said that you would be trying something heroic like you did with the fire. He said to let you know that should he see you anywhere other than beside Lady Charlotte or inside the confines of your own home, he would be telling your mother.”
“So, he will tell on me to my mother?” Jameson grumbled, hiding his amusement that even undercover agents knew how difficult and stern his mother could be.
“And you had better believe that I will sort you out myself if you don’t listen. Your mother and I have become very close, young man, and I consider Charlotte a daughter of mine,” Lady Thornton admonished him before handing him a cup of tea.
“Thank you, Lady Thornton. I am touched that you care for Lady Charlotte in the way that you do. I’m sure my mother is already preparing a room for her with us.” He accepted the cup of tea.
Lady Thornton paused for a second over the tray. “I am afraid that will not be happening; if you wish to have Lady Charlotte under your roof, you will have to marry her. She will stay with us until such time.”
Jameson was about to protest when the doctor came downstairs carrying a brown leather case.
“All is well; we can stop the worrying and fussing. Lady Charlotte is suffering from smoke inhalation and a burn to the palm of her hand. I have left a few tonics and ointments that will prevent things from progressing to a chest cold, but other than that, she should be ready to waltz in a month or two.”
The rickety old man came down the stairs, his thin legs bending as if they would break at the slightest gust of wind.
His thin layer of white hair barely covered his head, and his half-moon spectacles hung low on his nose.
“I must go and see her.” Jameson stood but found himself once again blocked as the doctor raised a hand to halt him.
“Calm yourself, My Lord, the fair lady is sleeping at present. You may see her in the morning … Doctor’s orders. And I need to see to that shoulder before you go barging into any more burning buildings,” the doctor said firmly and placed his bag beside the chair, kneeling to examine Jameson’s shoulder.
Frustration filled his body as he gritted his teeth. He’d braved fire and fought the odds to save the woman he loved, but now his path was blocked by well-meaning people who seemed far more stubborn than the flames that had torn down Charlotte’s home.
“You did well, My Lord. Lady Charlotte is safe now; let her rest until morning. Allow everyone else to take over now.” Lady Thornton spoke more gently, this time with a gentle smile.
Looking towards the stairs through the open drawing-room door, Jameson gave himself over to the situation. He’d saved her life; one more day wouldn’t hurt. Then, he’d count the hours until he could tell Lady Charlotte that he loved her.
Chapter 23
A gentle breeze blew over the waters as seagulls screamed overhead. Lord Reginald Grey smirked to himself as he waited to board the ship, ticket in hand. Mr Blackwood was late, but that didn’t matter. As long as he got away, everything would be well. Word had got to him that the house and all its belongings had burned to the ground, leaving nothing but a smouldering pile of ash in the morning.
Good.
He felt a large amount of accomplishment in having pulled off yet another successful plan; no one would ever know the lengths he’d gone to here in London. Salt filled his lungs as he took a deep breath, feeling the welcome sting of the wind on his cheeks. It wouldn’t be long before he was back on his property in Scotland, assuming another identity in a castle he had swindled from some old sap.
“My Lord, it’s quite a coincidence bumping into you here.” Lord Dunham’s voice took him off guard as he whipped around to see the man standing behind him.
“Lord Dunham, what are you doing here?” he said bitterly, his heart beginning to beat a little faster with suspicion.
“Last minute family business, I am afraid. There are a few things I need to handle for my father before I can move on.” The man smiled warmly, but there was something in his eyes that didn’t quite sit right with Reginald. He seemed to be sizing him up, glancing at the ticket in his hand.
Quickly placing the ticket in his breast pocket, Reginald decided to shake off the man and end the conversation as soon as he could after a few pleasantries so as not to invoke any suspicion. “I trust you have already been to see Lady Charlotte?”
“Oh, have you not heard, My Lord? I assumed that you would have been informed of the fire last night.” Lord Dunham cocked his head to the side and frowned.
“Fire?” Reginald faked concern as a bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck.
“The fire that almost killed your niece last night, My Lord. Your home is burned to the ground, but Lady Charlotte was pulled from the flames by Lord Sinclair,” Lord Dunham explained coolly, his demeanour beginning to change.
