“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 thattheywould 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.”
