“Wherein fears burn white hot.”

 

“Have you seen Lord Winterbourne?” Belle asked another man, once again receiving a shake of the head from a weary, soot-smudged face.

“He’s in the barn,” someone called back as Belle span around in horror.

“What?” she exclaimed as the lad, one from the boxing club, she thought, pointed thankfully at the smaller barn and not the one that was blazing like an inferno.

Belle’s heart gave an uneven thud in her chest. She felt sick.

“Why?” she cried, moving forwards. “What’s he doing?” Fear curled around her heart and held it captive. She needed Edward here. Now. She had to know he was safe. The whole bloody castle could burn to the ground, for all she cared, but she wanted Edward.

She felt a hand on her arm and looked around to find Garrett looking extraordinarily dishevelled.

“He’s sawing through the truss, my lady. They’re going to use the horses to pull the roof down so the fire can’t take hold. Ned Cowell is with him,” he added, though his grasp on her arm tightened. “Now you stay here or his lordship will worry, and I’ll be dismissed if I let you go another inch,” he added, his tone brooking no argument.

“But Garrett!” Belle pleaded, staring at the smoke billowing from the smaller barn with horror. She couldn’t breathe, fear immobilised her lungs, making it impossible to draw a breath. She was screaming inside, screaming for Edward, though she didn’t make a sound, only trembled. She began to move forwards.

“No, my lady,” Garrett said, his voice firm and his grip upon her arm even firmer. “It’s not just you to worry about now.”

She looked around in alarm, seeing a fatherly light in the butler’s eyes. Good Lord, did everyone know? She swallowed the idea that Edward might never know, might never even realise she carried his child, let alone live to see it. No. No.

Before she could pray or beg God to keep him safe, there was roar that hurt her ears, and a blast of heat so intense that her skin prickled and grew tight. The south barn collapsed in on itself, throwing flames and sparks and debris high into the sky. The horses screamed in horror, surging forward as Ned was carried along, digging his heels in and pulling with all his strength. But the mighty shires were too strong, even for one build like an ox himself, and they lumbered forwards, ears flat back and eyes rolling with fear.

“Edward! Edward!”

Garrett could not hold her as terror gave her strength, and she ripped her arm from his grasp, running forwards as a sickening crack split the air like a gunshot. A plume of dust and smoke and splinters exploded through the open doors of the barn as the roof caved in - and in the midst of it a figure emerged through the doors, scrambling on the wet cobbles to get clear as the roof crashed to the ground.

“Edward!”

Belle launched herself into his arms, almost knocking him flat against the cobbles as he fell to his knees. He was breathing hard, coughing and choking. But all she could see were his eyes, bright and alive, alive, glittering like emeralds against his filthy skin. Every inch of him was covered in dust and grime, and Belle thought she had never seen a more wonderful sight in her entire life.

“Belle,” he said, grinning at her as though he’d won some kind of prize. “Belle.”

He pulled her close, rocking the two of them together as Belle sobbed into his shoulder, one minute scolding him and pounding at his chest with fury for putting himself in danger, and the next running her hands over him, begging him to assure her he was unhurt.

“I’m fine,” he said, grinning at her like a fool. “A bit toasty, and I think I sprained my ankle, but nothing that won’t mend, I promise you. You don’t get rid of me that easily, you know.”

Belle gave a hiccupy laugh and fell upon his neck again, clinging to him as hard as she could. “If you ever frighten me like that again, Edward Greyston I’ll ... I’ll ...”

“Now you know how I feel,” he said, his tone half-amused, half-serious. “So, you’ll never climb another ladder as long as you live,” he said, his voice firm. “And I promise to stay out of collapsing barns.”

“Deal,” Belle said with a sigh, oblivious to the men still slinging buckets of water around her.

“Come now, love, we can’t sit here all night, these cobbles are wet and you’re freezing.”

Belle got to her feet, refusing to let go of Edward’s arm and supporting him as he was hobbling a little.

“Eddie!” They both turned to see that it was Charlie who’d shouted, running out through the smoke, waving his hat and rushing up to his master, his narrow chest heaving. “Damn me,” he said, gasping for air and bracing his arms against his legs to catch his breath. “When ... when I saw that building collapse and they said ye was still inside ... Lawd, ye gave me a bleedin’ fright.”

Edward reached out a hand and squeezed Charlie’s arm. “Shut up, you daft devil, anyone would think you cared.”

Charlie chuckled and shook his head. “I care that you still owe me that twenty quid, ye great lobcock,” he threw back, but with such affection in his eyes that Belle’s frail hold on her emotions threatened to leave her for good.

“Away with you, scoundrel!” Edward exclaimed, though he was still grinning. “I’ve never known a ruder valet in all my days. Damned if I know why I keep you.”

Belle looked around as Crecy ran over and grabbed her arm, looking up at Edward with admiration. “How brave you are, Edward,” she said, smiling broadly.

With amusement, Belle noticed Edward looking awkward under her praise. He cleared this throat to avoid answering.

“Yes, well, that’s enough of my husband’s heroics for one lifetime,” Belle replied, her voice firm, and was relieved that she no longer sounded like she was going to burst into tears. “So, enjoy it while you may,” she added, glaring at Edward, who simply grinned at her.

“Any ideas how it started?” Crecy asked, as they all turned to look at the devastation, relieved to see that at least the blaze was under control now.

“Probably someone smoking around the barn, though, damn me, I’ve told them until I’m blue in the face,” Edward muttered, looking irritated now. “I thought I’d got the point across, but perhaps not.”

“You sure about that, my lord?” Charlie asked, a dark look in his eyes. “It was a close-run thing the castle didn’t catch, eh? If we ‘adn’t a noticed it so quick, an’ you ‘adn’t thought to bring that roof in… Well ... could a been a sight worse, is all I’m sayin’.” The man’s voice was so ominous that Belle shivered.

“Do you mean to suggest someone did this on purpose?” she exclaimed, horrified by the idea.

Charlie gave Edward a significant look and Belle saw him frown. “He means my cousin Gabriel, Viscount Demorte.”

Belle felt a chill, remembering what Edward had told her about the man’s obsessive hatred for him, the previous attempts on his life.

“Why do people always do that?”

Belle, Edward, and Charlie looked around in alarm at Crecy, who sounded utterly furious.

Her lovely grey eyes were alight with rage. “Once someone has a bad reputation, no matter if they deserve it or not, it’s a stick to beat them with, isn’t it?”

Belle gaped at Crecy, astonished by her outburst.

“But Crecy,” she said, staring at her sister as though she’d never seen her before. “Demorte tried to kill Edward, he almost killed poor Aubrey when he stepped in to save him.”

“And you have proof of that?” Crecy demanded, letting go of Belle’s hand and staring at Edward, who looked every bit as alarmed as Belle was feeling. “Did you see him pull the trigger?”

“No,” Edward said, frowning at Crecy. “In fact, it wasn’t him who pulled the trigger. But Aubrey saw Demorte speak to the man who did then shoot at me right before he left Almack’s. Whoever he was, he was waiting for me outside.”

“So now a man is guilty of attempted murder because he’s spoken to a man who did attempt it?” she flung back. Belle took a breath, astonished and appalled by Crecy’s outburst.

“There is a little more to it than that,” Edward said, his tone careful, and Belle could only marvel at his calm demeanour when all she wanted to do was shake some sense into her sister. What on earth had come over her?

“Why do you defend him so, Crecy?” Belle demanded. “What is there between you and Viscount Demorte?”

Crecy blushed, her lovely face suffused with a combination of guilt and indignation.

“Nothing,” she said, a little too fast, perhaps, and in any case, Belle could no longer believe her. Crecy had been keeping secrets for too long. Oh God, was this it? Did Demorte have some kind of hold on her? But how? How was it possible when she hardly ever left the estate? Had she met him in London? Is that why she was so anxious to get away?

Questions circled Belle’s head until she was dizzy. She clutched at Edward’s arm as exhaustion swept over her.

“Belle?” Edward said, his arm going around her. “Come along. Let us all get out of the cold and this dreadful smoke. I think there has been enough excitement for one day.” He turned his attention to Crecy, who looked like she might cry. “We can talk about this later,” he said, not unkindly, but with a tone that suggested Crecy would have questions to answer.

Belle nodded, too ragged to ask anything else, and too afraid to hear the answers.