"Come on, love. Keep low," he urged, tugging her down onto her knees.
She scrambled ahead of him, and grabbed the pump handle. "The hoses. The tanks still have enough water for a storm for the next two performances."
"No, Miranda, it’s not worth it," he protested when he saw her trying to get the water flowing once more.
"We have to at least try!" she argued. "Never mind the theatre. I love it too, but that's not the point. If we don’t do something now, half of Southwark could go up in flames if the wind is blowing in the wrong direction."
She was already heaving mightily, but George groaned as he tried to work the stiffer of the two pumps. He clutched his abdomen, and she saw the scarlet stain spreading on his waistcoat and shirt.
"Go on, George, get out of here!"
"I’m not leaving you, Miranda, ever. We leave together or not at all."
"Get me that other axe, then."
Their gazes locked, and the love they avowed to one another with that mere look was as palpable as flesh on flesh, as clear as if it had been spoken aloud.
Together, they stood and sent their axes crashing into the water tank’s side, far enough down to try to put the fire out on stage.
"Again. Harder. Then we run," Miranda panted.
"But the spikes!" he reminded her in horror.
"We have no more time and no choice, darling. We have to try."
He nodded. "I love you."
"I know, George. Always. One, two, three. Now!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Standing on the burning stage by the water tank, as soon as Miranda shouted, "Now!" They swung their axes low and hit home, splintering the wood. The weight of the water splintered all of the slats and began to gush outwards from the huge tank, sweeping them off their feet.
George snatched at Miranda before she went head first over the edge of the stage. Then they were tumbling into the pit as the water poured down.
George’s coat snagged on the spikes, and he hung suspended until it began to shred and she helped him out of it one sleeve at a time. They looked over their shoulders for a moment to see that the stage was awash in water, extinguishing the flames as it went, but the roof had already caught light.
Hot sparks showered down all over them as they tore up the aisle as fast as their trembling legs could carry them, just ahead of the wall of water washing over the flaming stage and seats.
At last they were outside on the ground crying and laughing in sheer relief, and taking huge breaths of the blessed fresh air.
Sebastian, half-naked, came staggering out of the alley with a horror-stricken look on his face. Their colleagues all came running up to make sure they were all right and helped them to their feet. Or tried to, for George began to feel light-headed.
Miranda snatched his waistcoat wide and tore his shirt open to see how badly he was wounded.
Sebastian stared at his friend in horror. "George! Good God."
"I’m all right." He fumbled in his fob pocket and smiled at Miranda gently. "This was supposed to be for you. One of my little surprises I was going to give you tonight."
It was a magnificent cameo, the back of it now scored from having deflected Oxnard’s sword. It had caused the blade to skim along his abdomen rather than stab through it.
"You saved me again, love. Otherwise I’d have been gutted like a fish."
He kissed her hard in full view of the entire street, who had all turned out to see what had happened to the theatre.
Miranda could not have cared less what anyone thought of the ardent display, and even allowed herself to grow heated as his mouth slanted across hers to deepen the kiss.
"Come on, you two," a dazed Sebastian insisted. "We all need a doctor."
"Daniel, where's Daniel?" Milly sobbed.
"The last I saw of him, he was snuffing all the footlights," Sebastian said.
George was already heading back into the building before anyone else could say a word.
Miranda hurried after him. "George, no, you're bleeding and--"
"My theatre, my responsibility, my love," he said, taking another step towards the theatre entrance with every syllable.
"But George, you're losing a lot of blood. I'll go," Sebastian offered, hardly able to believe that Castlereagh had gone to such lengths to destroy George's life and happiness.
He had been told to get rid of Miranda, not burn down the whole theatre with all of the cast inside and kill George as well. Something was terribly wrong….
"My theatre, my responsibility, my friend," he said, taking another step down the theatre aisle with every syllable.
Miranda continued to hurry after him. Sebastian paused, and then followed on. If he was ever to obey orders, now would be the time…
"Daniel! Daniel!" George shouted above the roar of the flames as the roof burned over head.
A strangled cough was the only reply.
"Quick. Over there." Miranda pointed.
She ran, and George hobbled over to where the small man lay. "Your side, George, you'll never be able to carry him," she protested when she saw what he intended.
"I think I can walk," Daniel rasped. "You should have brought Milly. She sure can toss me about, for all she's a lass," he added with a wan smile, before a fit of coughing wracked him.
"Here, I'll help you," Miranda offered, gripping him under his arm and hauling him to his feet.
As soon as he was up, he was down again, and a spark of showers now forced them to look toward the sky.
"Damn, the roof is going. Sebastian, help us!" George shouted.
Sebastian knew the moment of decision was at hand. If he stepped back, they would all be killed. He would lose the best friend he had ever had, but at least he would never live in torment for the rest of his days, as he surely would if Miranda died.
Not died. If he KILLED her, he reminded himself. Killed her under Castlereagh's orders. And who knew what torment the lovely young woman would suffer if he didn't follow the foul command, and let her live. Perhaps the best thing for all of them was to just let them die in each other's arms.
But what of Daniel, and poor Milly? He could hear her wailing, all her friends holding her back from the burning building. Such love and devotion deserved a chance, didn't it?
Damn it, George and Miranda had found it, and yet here they were in a burning building, risking it all to save a friend. Could he do any less?
"Sebastian, come on!" George urged. "Help us. He can't walk and I can't carry him any longer."
"I'll grab his feet," Miranda said, bending down, when she saw the tall blond man standing there simply staring at them. Was it possible that he had not been on hand because he had been party to what Oxnard had planned….
Fury and desperation had her heave with all her might and lift Daniel bodily, with George only supporting his shoulders. "Run, George, as fast as you can manage. Now."
Sebastian stepped forward at last, and stooping his shoulder into Daniel's belly, flipped him upwards and gripping his arms around the backs of Daniel's knees, began to run. "Come on, now. The roof is about to go. Miranda, help George. Let's get out of here."
He made it to the door with his long-legged stride and delivered Daniel to a sobbing but relieved Milly. Then he turned to go back for George.
"He's fainting again," Miranda gasped, trying to prop him up.
"Damn fool thing to do, coming back in here with all that smoke," Sebastian grumbled as he caught the tall man under his armpit and looped the arm around his shoulder.
"He's a loyal friend, Sebastian. I wish we could say the same for every one of his colleagues."
He looked at her sharply. How could she know… "What do you mean?"
Her eyes never left his face as they hurried to the exit.
"Oxnard did this to kidnap me and kill George. Hugo helped him."
"Damn, Hugo. I might have known." He looked around in genuine alarm. "Where is he?"
"A victim of the fire, don't you know."<
br />
"Miranda, you need to tell me--"
"He's dead. I shot him," she said simply.
Sebastian stared, and let out a low whistle. "I see. Well then, I'd better do a bit of cleaning up before the authorities get here."
"Why would you take that risk for me?" she demanded, truly suspicious now.
Sebastian set George down outside the theatre. "Because you are the love of George's life, and the best and bravest woman I've ever known. I'm loyal to George and only want what's best for him. I can see now that you're it. We'll talk more later. Right now, I need to go sort out a few things."
"Thank you. For me, and Daniel."
"Don't mention it. It's the right thing to do. George and I had almost forgotten that until we met a few Rakehells, and he met you."
"He loves all his friends, you know," she called after him. "Be careful."
"I will. I have a bit of unfinished business that's long overdue," he said over his shoulder as he vanished into the theatre once more.
By now the others were gathering together to decide what to do next, and several carriages had been summoned to take home the injured. George insisted on sending everyone home, and sat watching, cradled in Miranda's arms, as the roof collapsed onto the stage and sparks showered in every direction.
Sebastian stood with them for a short time, sure now that Hugo's wound would be obliterated by the collapsing timber. Then he looked around.
"Still no fire brigade. They've obviously been told to stay away. We're on our own now, George," he warned.
Miranda looked up at him. "Not alone. We have friends. Many hands make light work. Come on, people, bring every bucket you can and form in lines from here to the Thames. Let's put this out before the wind whips it up into your houses."
They all nodded, ran in every direction and returned moments later with every receptacle they could lay hands on for conveying water.
"Take turns being closest to the blaze," she called. "That's right, fill them and bring more."
Sebastian went in first, with a burly man from the house opposite, and together they began to tackle the flaming roof which had dropped onto the extinguished but still smoking stage.
Miranda went to the local pump and was soon joined by several women and one older man with a good strong arm. As the buckets filled faster and faster, the blaze grew smaller and smaller, until finally only a few wisps of smoke remained.
"Thank you, thank you all," George said, putting down a bucket and sitting on the ground, winded.
"Thank you, guv'n. This was a fine theatre, with great plays. We'll be back as soon as you're up and running again."
George shook his head. "I don't think I would ever have the heart to rebuild."
"Ah, sure," a woman with an Irish brogue said with a smile, "it were a foin place. You'll be back one day, you'll see. Don't lose heart."
"She's right, you know," Sebastian said quietly. "It was a fine place. You build it once from nothing, so you can surely build it again."
George looked around and sighed. "I'm not sure. We'll have to talk about it later. I haven't the heart to even think about it, and besides, I did rather fancy a different sort of future for me and Miranda, now that we are to be married."
She kissed his cheek. "I want you to do what makes you happy, George, so long as we're together."
"I know love. Thank you. But we'll talk about it later. Right now I feel like I've died and gone to hell."He groped in his pockets for his billfold. "Sebastian, can you make sure you send money to each and every household in the area, thanking them for all their help, and get me a carriage so we can go home?"
"Aye, gladly."
Miranda stayed him with her hand. "The money can wait. You need to be looked after too. Come home with us."
He shook his head. "I'm fine."
"Come home with us," she insisted. "Your sister will want to see you are all right for herself. And besides, after what you did tonight, I don't know anyone else George would rather call brother, family, thank you. And neither would I."
"Thank you, but I don’t deserve--"
She silenced him with a look at George. "Come. Find us that carriage, and let's get him home. Then we all need to have a chat about what happened here tonight, and what it bodes for our future."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A short time later George and Miranda were back at Fulham House with Sebastian, and Antony Herriot came to check Sebastian’s head and stitch up George.
Sebastian complained bitterly about having been deceived and abused by two blond harlots, and couldn’t stop shaking at how close they had all come to being killed.
George’s wound wasn’t deep but it was certainly in a sensitive place. A millimetre lower and he might have lost something important, he joked, though Miranda gave him a freezing stare, not finding the situation the least bit humorous.
No, this had all gone too far. She had been living in a fool’s paradise, and they had all nearly paid the price. Well, no more, not if she could help it.
Leaving George with strict orders to rest, the doctor said good night. Miranda got George into a nightshirt and then began to strip off her own ruined clothing. She put on a fine sapphire silk wrapper George had given her, and took down her hair, grimacing at the odor as she did so.
"Ugh. Smoke. Maybe I should have a wash."
"Never mind that now, darling. Come here and warm me. I can’t seem to stop shivering."
"I know exactly what you mean," she said as she obliged him.
They had nearly lost almost everything they valued in the fire, each other and their friends, and were chilled to the bone at the knowledge.
He felt inexpressibly weary, and was convinced he needed to sleep for a year. But when she pointed out softly, "It’s my turn tonight," he made a valiant effort with his hands and tongue for a few minutes.
But she stayed him with a feather-light caress when he was about to turn over. "Stay there."
She cuddled into his side tightly. Draping her arm over his abdomen, she kissed him gently on the lips and put her head down on his shoulder.
"Good night, my love," she said simply.
He held her close and kissed her temple. "I love you, Miranda, always."
"I know. Me too. Sleep now, darling. It will all look much clearer in the morning."
"I hope so."
"I love you, George. Nothing else matters but that."
"I know. No matter what, we’ll manage, I promise."
"The darkest hour is always before dawn. But I want to come into the light at last."
"Me too."
She was about to tell him everything about herself, her family, her fortune, but he placed his lips over hers for a most tender kiss. When he lifted them again he said, "Our confessions have waited this long. Time enough tomorrow. For now just let me have one of your delectably sweet kisses and we’ll sleep as late as we like."
He kissed her hard, as though trying to merge them completely into one. At last he let her go and admitted with a shaky sigh, "I still can't believe what happened tonight. And our good fortune in getting through it all almost in one piece."
"I know," she said, holding him close.
"When I heard that pistol shot I was terrified," he admitted raggedly, holding her close.
Miranda froze for a second, then sighed. "I didn't have a choice. They were either going to kidnap me again or kill me. They were certainly determined to kill you in the fire and they didn't care how many other poor souls they took with them.
"I'm sorry it had to be Hugo, but you gave him every chance to come back and be a part of our little family and he's done nothing but betray both of us all along."
He stroked the hair back from her cheek. "I'm so sorry you had to go through—"
She shrugged one shoulder sadly. "I'm not happy about it, but I think I can understand you a lot better now, George. It's not a pretty world, living with a constant choice to kill or be killed. Yet I can see now that sometimes we have to do
the wrong thing for the right reasons."
"And where, may I ask, did the pistol come from?" he inquired gently, his gaze never wavering from hers.
"Sebastian gave it to me. I hid it in my trinket box just in case," she admitted, looking down at the floor.
His expression was dangerously blank. "I see."
She stroked down his arm from shoulder to elbow. "Please don't be angry with him. I asked him to help when all those little, er, mementoes of what happened to me with Oxnard kept appearing in my room. I knew it had to be one or more of our colleagues, possibly even Oxnard himself, though he isn't the type to take that big a risk with his own skin.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection 6 Page 73
