Page 66 of The Earl She Once Saved

“He will find him,” Ezra said.

Verity looked toward him. She did not want to admit that her concern extended beyond Sergeant’s safety over to Rafe’s as well. “You cannot know that.”

“No.”

The honesty steadied her more than reassurance would have done.

Ezra turned his glass slowly between his hands. “But if a creature can be found, Rafe will not stop before he finds it.”

“You speak as though determination is proof against darkness.”

“No.” Ezra looked into the fire. “I speak as a man who has seen him go into worse.”

Another crack of thunder shook the windows. Verity’s fingers tightened upon the curtain.

“In Spain,” Ezra continued, “a powder cart caught fire behind our line. There were men trapped between it and a collapsed wall.”

She looked at him despite herself.

“Everyone else had fallen back,” he divulged. “They had to. The fire was spreading, and there was every chance the whole cart would go.”

“But Rafe did not.”

“No.”

Ezra’s expression altered, as if touched by a memory he refused to acknowledge.

“He went back three times.”

“Three?”

“The first time, he carried a drummer boy. The second, a sergeant who had lost too much blood to stand. The third man was already unconscious.”

The fire gave a sharp crack.

“He carried them through it?” Verity asked.

“Mostly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the wall came down before he cleared it.”

Her breath caught.

Ezra looked at her. “He survived. He was burned. His coat took fire. He still would not release the man he carried.”

Verity thought of the lane. Rafe turned beneath her without hesitation. He chose where the fall would land before there had been time to consider what it might cost him.

“He is a reckless man,” she said.

“On occasion.”

“And foolish.”

“Frequently.”

Ezra’s mouth lifted faintly.