Samantha muttered a curse while running her fingers through her hair.This was ridiculous.They were separated by only a couple of inches, and yet, that was enough to damn her servants.
No.She refused to think in such terms.
There had to be a way.Some means by which to help them.
“There’s an axe in one of the basement storage rooms,” Turner said.“I can try to get to it, but there’s no guarantee.”
“According to Sarah, the fire has already cut off the stairs on that side of the house.The storage rooms aren’t accessible anymore.”
“Neither is the service entrance through the kitchen.”He gave Samantha a pointed look, reminding her that their own chance of escape was diminishing by the second.
She stared at him, mind whirling as she attempted to figure her way through this disaster.And then…
“There’s another way out,” she murmured.“A way in which everyone survives.”
Ward’s eyebrows drew together.“How?”
“Out the windows, and across the roof.”
23
Finn O’Leary leaned against the street corner on the opposite side of Portman Square.A smug smile curled his lips.His plan had gone better than he could have hoped.The bottles he’d tossed through the downstairs windows had practically exploded on impact.
Flames had already devoured the curtains before he’d finished throwing the final bottle.A blaze soon filled what he presumed to be the parlor, and then the front door had opened.Several servants rushed out onto the pavement, their horrified expressions filling Finn’s heart with endless joy.
This was Croft’s destruction.
Whether or not the man himself remained within, valiantly trying to save those loyal to him, made no difference.If he survived, Finn would finish him off later.
For now, he’d merely savor wrecking his life, for he would surely lose a great deal over this, regardless.
And Finn would move on.With a new location, a new crew, and the means by which to crush whatever remained of the Crofts after tonight.
* * *
Peter Kendrick was just preparing to leave the Bow Street offices for the evening together with Gabriella, when Lewis arrived, red-faced and panting.
“Fire.”The word, a breathless wheeze, made Peter straighten.“There’s…a fire.Portman Square.Croft…House.”
Peter shared a quick look with Gabriella, whose eyes had gone wide.
Her complexion paled, and then she breathed, “The baby.”
A sick sensation settled in Peter’s stomach.“Let’s go.”
He picked up his hat and exited the room, confident Gabriella and Lewis would follow.By the time their carriage approached Portman Square, the night was no longer as dark as it had been on Bow Street.An eerie glow illuminated the sky above all the nearby rooftops.Traffic blocked every street leading into the square.
As soon as the carriage drew to a halt, Peter opened the door and leapt down.He helped Gabriella alight, told Lewis to pay the driver, and started striding toward whatever horror awaited around the next corner.
It was worse than any nightmare he could have envisioned.
“Dear merciful mother of God,” Gabriella whispered.Her hand tightened around Peter’s arm as he led her onward, to where a crowd of onlookers had gathered.
Flames stretched their way through the broken windows and up the exterior walls.They licked at the roofline while thick plumes of black smoke billowed around the entire building.
Chest tight, he told Gabriella, “Stay here.”
He wanted her at a safe distance and was glad when she didn’t protest.
