CHAPTER NINETEEN
Several hours later, Edward found himself strolling the gardens with his friend. Thus far they had discussed nothing more pressing than the latest news from Parliament and the usual gossip swirling about London.
Bianca had disappeared shortly after tea, no doubt sensing that the two men desired to be alone, but still Biddles had avoided revealing his reasons for traveling to Kent.
An avoidance that was beginning to stretch Edward’s renowned patience.
As much as he enjoyed Lord Bidwell’s companionship, he would far prefer to devote himself to Bianca. All too soon this stolen interlude would come to an end and she would be forced to return to her parents’ home until the lavish wedding could be properly planned and conducted.
It might be months before he had her alone again.
Still, he could not be openly rude to the gentleman who had been his friend since they were both grubby lads. Sooner or later Biddles would confess his reasons for his unexpected arrival.
He could only hope it would be sooner.
Reaching the edge of the garden, Biddles came to an abrupt halt, his nose wrinkling at the unmistakable scent of rich earth and manure.
Hiding his smile, Edward stepped beside his friend and arched a teasing brow.
“I assure you that the natives will not attack if you go beyond the grounds.”
Flicking open his fan, Biddles wafted it vigorously beneath his pointed nose.
“It is not the natives that concern me, old friend. It is those horrid cows. They are always eyeing me as if they intend some nefarious business.”
Edward could not halt his laugh. He had never encountered a gentleman more suited to London.
“They are no doubt in shock,” he murmured, his gaze moving over the crimson coat and yellow breeches. “It is not often they encounter such a brilliant ensemble.”
Biddles offered a sniff. “Of course they do not. There are few who possess my flare for fashion.”
“Thank God.”
“Careful, Harrington.” A dangerous smile curved the nobleman’s lips. “I recall a certain pair of pink stockings that nearly got you beat to death at school.”
Edward shuddered at the unpleasant memory. A boarding school was no place for the weak or helpless. It was a brutal environment that tested the staunchest of nerve.
“They were a gift from my horrid Aunt Esmeralda. Since she was paying for the school, what could I do?” He gave a small shrug. “Besides, I held my own.”
Biddles rolled his eyes heavenward. “Why should you not? Even then you were big as an ox.”
“And you were a sly little ferret that always managed to slip out of trouble.”
A decidedly smug expression settled on the narrow countenance. “When you are half the size of other lads, you must learn to protect yourself by means other than brawn. Thankfully, I discovered that information is a powerful weapon.”
“You managed to hold the entire school hostage with your nasty little skill, from the head master to the lowest servant.”
“Except for you.” Abruptly turning, Biddles regarded him with a piercing gaze. “You were so damnably perfect that I could not discover even the smallest sin to hold over your head. Gads, I do not believe you even cheated upon an exam.”
“Hardly perfect.”
“You are one of the few honest men I have ever encountered.”
Edward found himself oddly embarrassed beneath the steady gaze. Hell’s teeth, he possessed all the faults and weaknesses of every other man.
Perhaps even a few additional ones if he were to search hard enough.
“Are you going to tell me why you have come to Kent?” he abruptly demanded, anxious to change the subject. And even more anxious to be alone with Bianca.
Biddles paused before he at last gave a lift of his shoulders. “I was concerned.”
“For me?”
“Lady Bianca did not reveal my part in her arrival here?”
A frown touched Edward’s brow. “No.”
Biddles returned his attention to the distant meadows. “She came to me and demanded to know where you had disappeared to.”
Edward could not deny that he was surprised. Oh, not by Bianca confronting Biddles. He had discovered his soon-to-be wife possessed a stubborn will that would allow nothing to stand in her path. But he was taken off guard that Biddles would allow himself to be bullied. He had faced Napoleon himself without batting a lash.
“And you told her?”
“Obviously.”
“Why?” Edward probed, his curiosity thoroughly roused. “I thought you disapproved of my relationship with her.”
“I did. But . . .”
“Yes?”
The pale gaze slashed back in his direction. “She managed to convince me that she loved you despite her reputation of being without a heart. Did I do wrong?”
“No.” Reaching out, Edward placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “In fact, I am in your debt.”
“You have decided to forgive her?”
Edward gave a firm shake of his head. “There was nothing to forgive. I realize now that I was merely using Lord Aldron as a reason to push Bianca away.”
Biddles shut his fan with a snap. “You do not love her?”
“God, I love her so much it makes me ache,” Edward readily admitted.
“Then why would you push her away?”
“Because I did not truly believe she could be content as my wife.” He sucked in a deep breath, his gaze instinctively turning toward the small manor house. “What do I have to offer such a woman? I am a plain, simple man who prefers being among my tenants to dashing about society. Even worse, I have managed to make an enemy of half the aristocrats with my radical notions. What if she finds herself shunned by her friends and family?”
Shockingly, Biddles tilted back his head to laugh at his dark mutterings.
“Good God, Edward, Lady Bianca is not only the daughter of a duke, but she possesses the stubborn determination of a mule. I do not doubt she will rule society no matter how radical your notions.”
Edward could hardly argue with such obvious logic. Bianca was a force to be reckoned with. He knew that better than anyone.
“No doubt,” he conceded with a reluctant smile. “Still, I am hardly the sort of dandy she has become accustomed to.”
Biddles gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You cannot believe a woman might prefer honor and integrity to shallow sophistication?”
Edward felt himself stiffen at the accusation. How could a gentleman such as Biddles possibly understand? He had been born and raised to consider his blood bluer than that of others. He would never doubt his own worth.
“I can only trust that she does,” he said so softly that the breeze stole the words from his lips.
Still, Biddles must have at least sensed something of his inner doubt as he frowned in sudden concern.
“Edward—”
The sharp sound of pounding footsteps interrupted whatever Biddles had been about to say, and both gentlemen turned about to watch a young lad charge up the path toward them. “What the devil is that?” Biddles muttered in surprise.
“My lord.” The lad waved his arms in a frantic manner. “You must come quick.”
Edward stepped forward. “What is it?”
“The Foster cottage has caught fire.”
“Good God.” He glanced toward his companion. “I must go.”
“I will join you,” Biddles swiftly offered.
“No, I need you to stay here with Bianca. If the blaze becomes out of control, I want you to take her to the village. There should be rooms at the inn.”
“But—”
“Please, Biddles.” He grabbed his friend’s arm, his expression fierce. “I need to know she is in no danger.”
Biddles gave a nod of his head. “Very well.”
Assured that Bianca would be safe, Edward set off at a swift run. Collecting the young boy, he commanded him to race to the church as quickly as possible to ring the bells. Soon the entire neighborhood would be gathering to assist in putting out the fire.
Until then he had to ensure that the Fosters had reached safety.
Bianca regarded Lord Bidwell with a hand pressed to her heart. There was something upon the narrow countenance that sent a chill down her spine.
“A fire? Dear God, where is Edward?”
There was a short pause, almost as if the gentleman was debating whether or not to lie to her.
“He has gone to assist,” he at last grudgingly admitted.
The chill became more pronounced, and without thought she turned to hurry from the parlor. “No. I will not allow it.”
“Hold.” Moving with a speed that caught Bianca off guard, the nobleman was standing directly in her path. “You must remain here.”
Her hands clenched at her side as a wrenching pain clutched at her heart. Dammit all, why was this man pestering her? She did not have the time for this nonsense.
“When Edward is in danger? Do not be daft,” she growled.
“Now move aside.”
Lord Bidwell held up a slender hand. “Lady Bianca, I cannot allow this. Edward specifically commanded me to ensure you remained far away from the fire.”
She narrowed her gaze with seething impatience. “And what of Edward?”
“He will be quite safe. No doubt by the time he reaches the cottage, the tenants will have it well in hand.”
“And if they do not?” she demanded, her vivid imagination already filled with ghastly images of her fiancé dashing to the flaming cottage. “You know Edward. He is so blasted noble he is bound to risk his bloody neck if he thinks it necessary.”
“Edward will do nothing foolish,” he retorted, his expression one of grim determination. “And neither will you. Not even if I have to tie you to a chair.”
Bianca attempted to charge around the slender lord, not at all above an ugly brawl if that was what was needed to reach Edward. Unfortunately, the slender man was astonishingly strong, and even as she darted forward he had captured her in his arms with a grip that she could not break.
“Lord Bidwell, I insist that you release me,” she gritted in rising fury.
“Not until I have your promise that you will obey Edward’s command.”
Knowing that she had no hope of physically overcoming her captor, Bianca accepted that deception was her only hope of escape. A knowledge that did not trouble her a whit.
Not when Edward might very well be in danger.
With practiced ease, she smoothed her expression to one of resigned petulance.
“Oh . . . very well,” she muttered, stiffly waiting until he warily lowered his arms. “At least I must request that cook prepare some food for those assisting Edward. I trust that meets with your approval?”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “So long as you do not leave the manor.”
She managed a tight smile. “Make yourself comfortable, Lord Bidwell. I shall return as soon as I have completed my task.”
Without a backward glance, she swept out of the parlor and down the short hall to the stairs. She even turned to head toward the kitchen in the event the sly man was keeping an eye upon her. Only when she was out of sight did she hastily dodge into a side passage that led her to a small door.
Once out of the manor, she headed straight for the stables, calling for a horse the moment a groom appeared.
Edward was out there, and he needed her.
Whether he knew he needed her or not.
The flames had spread to the roof of the cottage as Edward approached. His heart sank as he realized the poor Fosters had no doubt lost everything.
Of course he would ensure the cottage was rebuilt, and the neighbors would collect clothing and food to assist them. But nothing could ever replace the small, personal items that made a house a home.
At least the tenants had already gathered to begin passing buckets of water from the well to the burning house, he acknowledged. It was imperative that the fire be put out before it could spread to the outbuildings or even another cottage.
The thought had barely flittered through his thoughts when his horrified gaze caught sight of the brawny, silver-haired woman battling her way through the gathering crowd, her cries of distress filling the air.
His swift pace became an all-out run as he recognized Mrs. Foster. The daft woman was obviously determined to return to the cottage despite the flames.
Thrusting aside those in his way, he frantically attempted to halt the woman before she reached the open door. For all his speed, however, the determined woman had made it over the threshold before he managed to get his hands upon her.
He choked upon the thick smoke as he wrestled her to a halt.
“Mrs. Foster, you must get out. The roof is about to collapse.”
“Jacob came back for the silver,” she moaned, her long face blackened with soot as she struggled against his hold. “He’s all I have.”
His heart gave a squeeze of fear as he frantically glanced about the narrow room. Through the gloom he spotted the elderly man lying beside the fireplace as if he had become overwhelmed by the smoke.
“Go, I will get Jacob,” he shouted.
She dug in her heels, her expression frantic. “I won’t leave without him.”
“I said I would save him, now go.”
With a sharp push, he had her out of the cottage. He paused only long enough to tie his handkerchief over his lower face before he inched his way toward the unconscious tenant.
The heat from the gathering flames was nearly unbearable, and the thick smoke threatened to choke him, but Edward pressed onward. He did not know if the man was alive or dead, but he was not about to leave him to burn.
Reaching the still form, Edward bent down to scoop the man into his arms. Then, with a loud grunt, he tossed him over his shoulder. It was an effort to rise to his feet, and he realized that he was weakening.
He had to get them out of the cottage before he was overcome by the smoke as well.
A blackness had descended within the room, and Edward was forced to trail his hand along the heated stone wall to keep from becoming disoriented. Sweat flooded down his countenance and he could feel his clothes sticking to his body as he struggled forward.
Even worse, his breathing was becoming so labored he knew it was only a matter of moments before he lost consciousness.
Willing himself to keep moving, he assured himself that he had to be near the door. Only a few more steps. One step after another, he coaxed his straining muscles.
And then, without warning, disaster struck.
Blinded by the smoke, he could not see the chair directly in his path. Not until he had already stumbled over it.
With a furious cry he tumbled to his side, attempting to protect Mr. Foster from the blow. A fine notion until he realized that he had left himself utterly unprotected and with a helpless sense of destiny felt his head smack against the flagstone floor.
There was a burst of pain and a flash of light.
Then there was nothing.
No one had ever accused Biddles of being naïve.
Sly, devious, and downright immoral. But never, ever naïve.
As soon as Lady Bianca left the room, he had slipped from the manor house to station himself outside the kitchen door. He did not believe her seeming resignation for a moment. She had been desperate to reach Edward’s side, and she was not about to let anyone stand in her way.
Unfortunately, he managed to outwit even himself.
While he was waiting for her to make an appearance, she managed to sneak through a side door and was already at the stables when he spotted her scurrying form.
With a curse at his stupidity, Biddles was in swift pursuit.
Damn and blast. Edward would have his hide if anything happened to his fiancée.
He managed to reach the stables just as she charged out the doors upon a gray mare, and with a sharp command he had the harassed groom retrieving his own mount. Precious moments passed before he was at last in the saddle and demanding directions to the Foster cottage. Moments that allowed Lady Bianca to gain a considerable advantage.
Taking the nearest lane, Biddles bent low as he urged his horse to a gallop. He could already smell the acrid smoke that filled the air, and his heart sank as he realized that Bianca was bound to reach the cottage before he could catch her.
All he could do was hope that Edward was wisely standing aside and allowing his tenants to battle the blaze.
A hope that withered and died before it could even take root in his heart.
Like Bianca, he knew Edward far too well. He would never be capable of standing aside. If danger was to be found, he would be right in the thick of it.
Forced to slow as he cut through a thick copse of trees, Biddles could begin to see the dark wisps of ashes in the air. The cottage was near, and he had yet to even catch sight of Bianca.
Seething with impatience, he urged his horse to a faster pace and at last crested the small hill to discover the burning cottage along with a crowd in the throes of obvious panic. He vaulted from the saddle, his only concern finding Edward and his stubborn fiancée.
He grabbed the arm of the nearest man and gave him a small shake to capture his attention.
“Where is Lord Harrington?” he demanded.
The broad man with a ruddy countenance and shock of black hair looked near to tears.
“Went inside to save poor old Foster.” His voice broke as he forced out the raw words. “He hasn’t come out again.”
With a sense of doom, Biddles glanced toward the cottage to witness Bianca hurtling through the open door.
“God have mercy,” he muttered as his fingers tightened upon the man’s arm. Edward had been a fool to go in after the man. And Bianca an even bigger fool to go after Edward. So what did that make him? A fool’s fool, obviously. Assuming an expression that had managed to intimidate even Prinny, he leaned toward his brawny captive. “I am going in there. I will need your help.”
The broad face turned a sickly white. “But—”
“I do not have time to argue,” Biddles growled, already tugging the reluctant savior forward. “Now come along.”
The heat was nearly overwhelming as they approached the burning cottage, but Biddles did not allow his pace to falter. Despite the thick smoke, he could see the trailing end of Bianca’s gown as she bent downward. Which could only mean that Edward was thankfully close to escape.
Stepping over the threshold, he bent beside the slender woman, realizing that she was pushing aside a chair that had caught fire and landed upon the unconscious Edward. She did not even notice his presence until he touched her shoulder.
With a gasp, she turned to regard him with a grim expression. “He is alive, but we must get him out of here,” she commanded in tones that defied argument.
“You take one arm and I will take the other,” he directed, grasping an arm as he turned his attention to the hovering man at his side. “You take Mr. Foster.”
“Aye,” the man agreed, easily bending to grasp the man beneath the shoulders and drag him out the door.
They were forced to wait until the unconscious Mr. Foster was over the threshold before they could begin tugging Edward to safety. Biddles could hear Bianca’s rasping breath, but there was no hint of fear or even panic upon her countenance.
Nothing but grim determination.
At last able to drag Edward backward, they had barely stepped out of the door when a sudden mob appeared and Biddles found a dozen hands reaching to grasp hold of Edward and rush him from the hungry flames.
Momentarily knocked aside, Biddles and Bianca sucked in deep breaths of the crisp air. They had only been within the cottage for a few moments, but it was enough to fill their lungs with thick ash.
At least he knew that Edward was alive and seemingly unharmed except for a nasty gash on his temple, Biddles acknowledged with sharp relief. Even as he had been jostled aside, he had witnessed the Earl’s eyes begin to flutter open.
Digging out his handkerchief, Biddles mopped the sweat and soot from his countenance. Then, with a wheezing cough, he turned his attention to the lady at his side.
At first he did not notice more than the fact that her hair had come loose to tumble about her shoulders and her dress appeared to be singed by the flames.
It was only when she slowly fell to her knees that he noticed the fierce blisters that marred her beautiful hands.
“Oh lord,” he muttered as he bent beside her and took her hands in his own. “Edward is going to castrate me.”