His figure was coated in white, his face covered indust. Did she look as hideous? How very odd that she didn’t care.
They stared at each other for long moments, the roar of the fire behind them the only sound. That, and the bells of the fire brigade ringing in the distance.
“It’s true.” Alano’s voice was calm, compassionate, the tone of it gentle, as if by saying the words softly she wouldn’t be affected by them.
“No.”
Alano glanced behind him and said something. She turned and headed for the street, uncaring whom he addressed or why. The fire was spreading, pushing her from the house. At what was once the front door, and was now only long pieces of shardlike wood, she hesitated, looking back over her shoulder. Alano was on one side of the Duke of Herridge, Tim on the other. The sudden elation she felt at seeing Tim was instantly balanced by the thought that Douglas had been here.
The damn fool blew himself up.
Oh, dear God.
She almost fell, her legs suddenly so weak she didn’t think she could make it out of the house. Alano was suddenly there, holding on to her, supporting her.
“Step over this now,” he said as if he were coaxing an infant to walk. The smell of a fire was growing closer, and she knew she should be afraid, but it didn’t seem real.
That was it.Thiswas a nightmare. She was home at Chavensworth, and she was missing Douglas. If she awoke, stretched out her hand, she would find him beside her. Naked and manly and shockingly attractive.
She needed to tell him how beautiful he was. She needed to say the words. He should know that every time she saw him, her heart beat a little faster.
“We must find Douglas,” she said. The words were almost impossible to say.
“She’s been hurt,” someone said.
“No,” Alano said, “she’s grieving. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
She tried to pull away, but Alano was gripping her so tightly that she couldn’t free herself.
With every step there was an answering crunch as she trod on glass and slivers of wood. Debris still fell on them occasionally, and everyone was shouting.
The steps were there, finally, and she stumbled down them, hands outstretched as she headed for the carriage. Edmunds was standing there, staring at the destruction, his mouth open.
Alano was still beside her, and now he shouted something to Edmunds. He jerked to attention and sprinted to the door of the carriage.
“We’ll get you out of here, Lady Sarah,” Edmunds said.
“No.” She turned to face Alano. She knew that the fire had begun to spread because she could see his shadowed features limned in orange light.
“Don’t you see,” she said, far more calmly than she thought possible. “He can’t be dead.”
“I’m not altogether sure anything could have survived, Lady Sarah,” Alano said. “The top floor is gone,” he added.
She turned to face the ruin of what had been the Duke of Herridge’s town house. Alano was right. The top floor was gone, not to mention there was now a large hole in the middle of the second floor. Half of the front of the house had also disintegrated in the blast.
“Come now, Lady Sarah,” Alano said, leading her to the door of the carriage.
Someone shouted, a woman screamed, and suddenly the rest of the roof caved in, a billowing cloud of dust, dirt, and ash swirling toward them.
“The damn fool blew himself up,” Alano repeated.
She hated Alano at that moment. Hated him because he’d had years with Douglas while she’d only had weeks. She hated him because he said aloud what no one else had the courage to say, and in doing so had solidified Douglas’s fate. She hated him because there were tears rolling down his face, and she had nothing inside—not heart or soul. Even her mind was numb, unable to make sense of what had happened.
“Lady Sarah, please, the safest place is in the carriage.”
“I won’t leave,” she said.
Edmunds came and stood beside her.
