by Lauren Smith
Horatia made it halfway down the hall before Gordon caught up with her. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her backward. She shrieked as Gordon pulled the knife back against her throat, drawing a trickle of blood. Horatia ceased fighting him then, and he dragged her back into the bedroom.
“Please. You may do with me what you will…but do not make my brother watch.”
“I believe my employer would prefer it if he did.” Gordon shoved Horatia onto the bed. She grunted in pain and rolled onto her back just as Gordon charged towards her.
“Lucien will kill you,” she promised.
He only laughed. “I very much doubt he will. I’ll be long gone before he comes here, assuming he survives at all. You really mustn’t worry over him much though, it is you that you should be concerned about.”
“How bad was the wound?” Horatia asked Cedric. “How badly did you hurt him?”
“I am not sure. When I left the house he was unconscious and bleeding heavily,” Cedric said, looking away.
Gordon smirked at Horatia. She was silent for a long minute eyeing the dying embers in the fireplace. “It seems the hellcat has lost her hellion ways. How easily defeated you are.”
Then she got to her feet and to both Cedric and Gordon’s confusion she added a few logs to the fire.
“What are you doing?” Gordon asked suspiciously. “Back over here, now.”
Her face was so bleak and dispassionate that Gordon glanced at Cedric as though ascertaining whether there was some plan at work here between the siblings. But Cedric’s face only burned with shame and defeat.
Horatia whirled on him with the poker just as Gordon raised his pistol. The shot went wide as the sharp tip of the poker raked his chest. She struck his arm with the poker before he could pull out his knife. Gordon cried out in pain as his arm bent unnaturally, but before she could land a second blow he wrenched the poker from her with his good arm.
“That was very stupid.” Gordon struck her across the head with the poker. Stars burst across her eyes before everything went dark.
Gordon frowned down at Horatia. He tore off a length of her dress and fashioned himself a hasty sling.
“Well, there’s no point in taking her now. In truth, I have no wish to linger here any longer. But a contract is a contract. But now that we’re alone, I have to ask. Whatever did you do to earn such enmity? What sin earns a man this level of personal attention?”
Cedric said nothing. He didn’t give a damn what the man had in store for him. He focused solely on his sister and the way she laid in a crumpled heap against the wall.
With no answer forthcoming, Gordon strode over to the fireplace. He used the poker to drag a log out of the fireplace and onto the floor. Slowly flames began to lick at the edges of the floor. Then he came over to Cedric and with his good arm cut his bindings. Before Cedric could fight him, Gordon rammed the pistol into his stomach.
“Move. I want you to walk out of this cottage ahead of me. I may need you if others have arrived.”
“I’m not leaving my sister,” Cedric snarled.
“Yes, you are, or I put a bullet through you and you won’t be able to save anyone. You still have one sister left. Are you going to leave her as well?”
Fear exploded through Cedric, but he wouldn’t give up on Horatia. He would never give up on her.
“Horatia! Horatia wake up!” he hollered as he was pulled away. The flames from the log began to creep along the floor and up the curtains of the window.
Horatia did not stir. Blood trickled from her forehead. She had to be alive, she had to be! While the small fire danced, the crimson rose petals lit up one by one, flames devouring them in flashes like fireflies. As they exited the house, Gordon stumbled on the bottom step.
Cedric turned and grappled with him over the pistol. Cedric shoved against the footman’s broken arm, causing him to cry out and drop the weapon. Cedric kicked it away and pushed the man back. He had mere seconds to either fight the villain and turn the tables, or to run back into the cottage to save his sister.
The choice was clear.
He dove back into the darkened doorway, rushing headlong towards the fire.
Chapter Thirty
Thoughts drifted through the murky waters of Lucien’s mind, jumbled and hazy. Horatia’s soft smiles and shivery sighs, Cedric’s haunted stare as he raised a pistol at him.
His eyes wouldn’t open and he couldn’t move.
“Lawrence, try this,” a feminine voice said.
Something sharp penetrated Lucien’s nose and shot straight to his brain. His eyes flew open and he surged upright, a pounding headache and pain in his side nearly making him cry out. Smelling salts. One never got used to them.
Lucinda and Lawrence along with Sir John all stood watching him, eyes wide and worried.
“Cedric!” he shouted. Fear for his friend exploded into him as he remembered the duel. He was alive? Where was he now? His bedroom.
“Easy, Lucien, he’s fine.” Lawrence tried to still him with a firm hand but Lucien knocked it away. One thought formed more clearly now. He’d been too damned distracted to pay attention until now.
“Let me up, damn you! Where is Cedric? Where’s Horatia?” He fought to be free of the tangling bed linens and fell to the floor. Pain tore through his head and he felt a large bandage bound around his head where the bullet had struck him. Sir John gripped his good arm and hauled him up onto his feet, angling him back towards the bed.
“You need to rest, Lucien,” Lawrence said.
Lucien cursed and clutched a hand to his head but kept walking towards the door.
Avery and Linus ran into the room from the hallway.
“The gardener’s cottage is on fire!” Avery shouted. “We need to get buckets and water. Everyone come with me to the kitchens.”
“Has anyone see Horatia?” Lucien bellowed as everyone rushed towards the kitchens.
“No…” Audrey came running to him, breathless. “Her room was empty but there was this.” She pressed a scrap of paper in his hands and he hastily scanned it.
“She’s been kidnapped!”
The words on the page confirmed his worst fears. Horatia had been taken as bait to lure either him or Cedric to the cottage.
“Damn, we may be too late! Tell the others!” Lucien took off at a run. He had to get to the cottage! He nearly fell down the stairs in his haste as people were rushing past him to find buckets to fill. When he burst out into the gardens he saw inky black smoke in the distance.
“Please be alive,” he breathed as he raced towards the cottage. The question he couldn’t answer was who had done this? It had to be someone on the staff, he knew it. No stranger had appeared out of nowhere, this was the act of someone who’d waited in the shadows for the right moment.
When Lucien was within twenty feet of the cottage he saw the house’s new footman exiting from the front door, forcing Cedric in front of him with a pistol aimed at him. Gordon tripped and the two men struggled before Cedric fled back into the burning cottage.
The footman stared at Lucien. “I thought you were dead, Rochester. Good for you.” Lucien took a step forward, intending to restrain the fiend, but Gordon raised a finger on his good arm. “Your friend went back inside to rescue your lady love. I didn’t come here to kill him, but the fool will likely die all the same. What do you think?”
Gordon sidestepped Lucien and walked on past, but Lucien didn’t care. Cedric and Horatia were inside the burning cottage. He plunged inside the smoky interior without a second thought, dropping as low as he could, and covering his face with his blood soaked shirt.
“Cedric! Horatia!” he shouted.
“Lucien?” A ragged voice answered from the end of the hall, followed by a hoarse cough.
“Cedric!” Lucien ran down to the open bedroom. He was repelled by the heat
of the flames before him. Coughing, he waved his hand in the air, trying to shift the coiling smoke and he glimpsed Cedric, on the floor, barely conscious, and Horatia was much closer to the fire, crumpled on the floor.
“Get her out of here,” Cedric groaned.
“I’m too damn selfish to give up either of you,” Lucien shouted. He first ran to Horatia, dragging her body far away from the sprawling flames, then helped Cedric up. “I should think that as my friend, you should know me better by now.”
“I’ll try to follow,” Cedric coughed, staggering for the door. “Go. Get her out of here.”
Lucien knelt and lifted the unconscious woman in his arms, biting back the pain that still lanced through his head. Horatia’s body was drenched in sweat; the limp feel of her in his arms made him sick with dread.
“Just keep moving,” Lucien said through gritted teeth as he started for the door.
He met Cedric’s gaze across the hazy expanse of the room. They both knew he wouldn’t make it out on his own. Something wrenched in Lucien’s heart as he witnessed the grim resignation in his friend’s eyes.
“Take care of her for me,” Cedric’s voice was barely audible above the groaning of the house around them.
Lucien managed a nod and tightened his grip on Horatia as carried her out. When he reached the door he ran a good distance away from the cottage before falling to his knees. A small crowd of servants and guests were forming a bucket line, throwing pails of water on the far side of the cottage where the blaze was largest.
Horatia rolled out of Lucien’s arms and onto the snowy ground, leaving a sooty trail of black in her wake. He bent over her and cupped her face between his shaking hands and kissed her. She stirred beneath him, then coughed violently.
“Lucien?”
“I love you. Never forget that,” he said, kissing her once more before he ripped himself away and started back into the cottage.
“Lucien!” Horatia cried out.
He paused at the entrance to the cottage, looking back, then plunged into the swirling smoke.
Lucien put his bloody sleeve back up over his face and ducked as low as he could. He was halfway down the hall when the beams overhead shrieked. One of them shifted and crashed down behind him as he crossed the threshold of the bedroom. He found Cedric slumped on the ground before him.
Lucien swatted a few flames that had latched onto his leg. The fire burned him, but he stamped the flames out and crawled over to Cedric.
Another beam crashed down by the fireplace. Sparks shot up around the two men and Lucien shut his eyes and flinched away from the flames until the heat receded. A moment after he’d hoisted Cedric up, a massive chunck of the ceiling fell and struck Cedric from behind, sending Lucien toppling to the ground, the beam on top of them both. Lucien yelped in pain as the beam trapped his legs and pinned Cedric down by his back. Lucien clawed at the wood, even though flaming splinters dug into his raw palms. He glanced up, hoping to find anything that might help him when he saw a shadow at the end of the hallway.
“Leave us!” he screamed in desperation. “The roof is coming down!”
But the shadow drew closer, revealing itself as Horatia wrapped in a wet heavy cloak. She hopped over flaming wood and stones until she was kneeling by Lucien’s legs and using the wet cloak to cover the flames, heaved at the beam with all her might. Lucien dragged himself out and he and Horatia both worked to pull the debris off of Cedric.
They each grabbed one of Cedric’s arms and carried him towards the exit. More than once the flames and smoke almost won, but finally the three stumbled out of the cottage with Cedric just as the entire roof collapsed. Relief and pain swept through Lucien as the last bit of adrenaline in him finally expired.
He collapsed next to Cedric and was lost to the world.
Chapter Thirty-One
Horatia lay curled up against Lucien’s body as he slept in his bed. No one dared to point out the impropriety of it and if they had Horatia would have screamed. As it was, everyone was very polite, even the doctor from Hexby, whom Gregory had returned with ten minutes after she, Lucien and Cedric had escaped the cottage.
Lucien’s injury from the duel had indeed been minor, a scratch. The doctor had assured them that head wounds, even grazes tended to bleed profusely. The concussion had been of far more concern, but that too had passed. Unless Lucien suffered an unexpected infection, he would be fine. Horatia hadn’t left Lucien’s side since they’d returned to the house, other than to quickly bathe and change. Now the doctor was attending to Cedric, who was resting in the room across the hall. Horatia stroked Lucien’s hair back from his forehead and placed a delicate kiss to his brow.
“I cannot believe that Gordon escaped,” she whispered. The idea that the man who had tried to kill her was still out there was terrifying.
“He won’t be back,” Lucien said with such certainty that she pulled away a little to stare at him.
“How do you know?”
“We know who he is and what he was hired to do. We are safe from him.” The implied but not entirely safe hung heavy in the air.
“Horatia? The doctor would like to speak to you,” Lady Rochester said quietly from the doorway. Her eyes settled on Horatia and Lucien, but she didn’t say anything, a sad smile crossing her lips.
Poor Lady Rochester was pale and the lines around her eyes, which had once been only there from joy and laughter, seemed to age her with concern over her son.
“Is everything all right?” Horatia asked, sitting up.
“He…the doctor has news regarding your brother.”
Horatia slid from the bed and steadied herself. “Bad news?”
Lady Rochester’s hesitation worried Horatia. “Yes. He wishes to speak to you and Audrey alone. Cedric is sleeping right now. The doctor will see you in his room.”
Horatia couldn’t seem to move. Her body felt as though it had turned to marble. She couldn’t take much more of this. It was as though her entire body was strung like a harp’s strings and she was seconds away from snapping.
Horatia crossed the hall and found Audrey and the doctor waiting for her in the other room. She shut the door behind her.
“You have news?” She was unable to look away from the sleeping form of her brother.
The gray-haired doctor cleared his throat. “Yes. It seems that Lord Sheridan has suffered a very serious injury to the head. I’m afraid that he has lost his sight…completely.”
Audrey clung to a bedpost for support. Tears began to roll down her cheeks but she said nothing.
“He’s blind?” Horatia asked.
“I am not sure if the condition is permanent, but I thought I should advise you immediately so that you might prepare for the worst. Life for someone without sight can be very difficult, but made easier by the support of one’s family…”
The doctor droned on but Horatia ceased listening. Her head turned back towards Cedric. A strip of gauze had been wound around his head, over his eyes.
Blind. Her brother was blind. Her own vision seemed to spot and darken before she remembered to breathe and her vision cleared.
“Thank you, doctor,” she said. The doctor then left her and Audrey alone for a while.
“Audrey…why don’t you go have some tea brought for us?” Horatia suggested, and her bleary-eyed sister dashed out of the room. It would be best for Audrey to have her time to cry. Horatia could not think logically with her sister in the same room. She sat down on the edge of the bed and nearly jumped when Cedric spoke.
“Don’t cry, Horatia. Please. I’ll have enough of that from Audrey.” Cedric shoved at the bandage, pushing it away from his face as he opened his eyes and gazed in her general direction, but there was an unsettling blankness in his gaze that ripped open Horatia’s very soul. How much of a person’s life existed behind their eyes? So much expression, emotion, and unde
rstanding was lost to Cedric now. She bit her lip to keep from weeping.
“I can’t stand to have my eyes covered, even if I can’t see. Come closer. Let me have your hand,” Cedric said gently, his right hand seeking the comfort of hers. Horatia threw herself against her brother’s chest and he wrapped his arms about her. He kissed the top of her head and held her tight. That simple, sweet act tore her open. There was no stopping the tears. Funny thing that comfort often made her cry. It was as though she was only strong when alone, or perhaps it was that she only trusted those she loved to allow herself such feelings. Who would care for Cedric? He would have her and Audrey…but it wouldn’t be enough.
Her brother’s hand stroked her hair. She tucked her head into his shoulder as she’d done when she was younger, only this time she hoped it was him who was comforted.
“Please forgive me, Horatia,” his voice broke. “I’ve made so many mistakes of late. I did not trust your judgment and I did not have faith in Lucien’s heart. He asked me to believe in his love for you but I couldn’t. I have failed you both and it has cost us all a great deal.”
“Don’t say that,” Horatia began but Cedric shushed her.
“I must, Horatia. The truth is that Lucien loves you and he deserves you for a wife. I give my blessing freely. Any man who is stubborn enough to care about both of us even when the world is burning down around him…that man is allowed to marry my sister.”
“Oh Cedric.”
Guilt warred with her joy over being able to marry Lucien. It wasn’t fair to feel such happiness when her brother faced a lifetime of darkness.
“I asked you not to cry,” he said, his hands wiping tears from her face.
“May I cry from happiness?” she asked.
“I suppose I can suffer tears of joy.” Cedric chuckled. “You will be happy with him. Lucien, I mean?”
“Yes. He loves me and when I am with him I feel free. Gloriously free to just be myself. I love him so much.” She wished Cedric could see the truth of it in her eyes, but knew it carried in her voice as well
