Page 87 of Temptress in Disguise
A pained cry burst from Lydia’s throat. She glared at Mr Adams. “No! That’s not what we agreed. You said we would all live together at Hartford Hall once we’d got rid of Mr Chance.”
Mr Adams scoffed. “I’m not sharing the inheritance with anyone. Now leave before I change my mind and force you to light the match.”
Perhaps he couldn’t get rid of Lydia until the Prerogative Court ruled in their favour. Perhaps he meant to pass himself off as Edwin Budworth and needed her continued support.
Lydia mumbled to herself, her eyes growing wide in disbelief. She’d been acting oddly since leaving Hartford Hall. Perhaps in her own way, Lydia did care. The evidence was there in her harrowing sobs.
Mr Adams motioned to the door. “Get her out of here.”
The coachman grabbed Lydia and hauled her over his shoulder. Though she kicked her legs and thumped his back, he left the room, the thud of his booted footsteps echoing along with Lydia’s cries.
Naomi turned to Melissa and lowered her voice. “He can only shoot one of us. I say we charge at him and hope for the best.”
Melissa scowled like she’d scuffed her new slippers. “He’ll shoot me first or pistol-whip the pair of us. I’ll take my chances. We won’t get far if we’re lying unconscious amid the flames.”
Mr Adams put paid to any plans of escape when he struck the first match. He aimed his pistol at their heads while tossing the lighted spill on the coffin. While Melissa tried to reason with him, he threw another lit match on the chaise.
“My husband will hunt you down unless you release us.” Naomi jumped back as the furniture ignited with a suddenwhooshand a burst of amber flames.
“He hadn’t the courage to challenge me ten years ago. I left him howling in pain, nursing his arm and cursing me to the devil.”
A spiral of black smoke filled the air, making her cough. “He’s ten times the man you’ll ever be. When he finds you, I pray he makes you suffer in the most despicable way.”
Mr Adams laughed and made to leave, but a shot outside wiped the sick grin off his face. He darted from the room, stopping to lock the door.
Melissa raced to the door, rattled the handle and thumped the wood with her fist. She called for help, pleading for someone to release them.
“There’s no one here. The window is our best means of escape.” Naomi ignored the mounting heat as the fire spread. The smoke scratched her throat and clogged her airways. She tried to raise the sash but it wouldn’t budge. Grabbing the silver candlestick from the mantel, she raced to the window and smashed the glass panes.
“I can prise the door open.” Melissa had snatched a poker and was jabbing it between the frame and the jamb.
“Cover your nose and mouth and come here.” Mr Adams had latched the shutters, but she pressed her face to the smashed pane and inhaled the fresh air breezing through the gaps.
Naomi turned to Melissa, but the woman was on her knees, coughing to rid her lungs of smoke and surrounded by a wall of flames.
They had a minute before the room became an inferno.
A minute before the fumes overwhelmed them.
No! This wasn’t how her life was supposed to end.
Tears streamed down her face as she remembered her wedding day and the blossoming bud of hope she felt when Aramis kissed her. Every day since had been magical. Dreams did come true. Life was beautiful. And if by some miracle she survived, she’d not waste a second.
Hearing a commotion outside, she called to Aramis. It was foolish to waste her energy when she should be trying to force open the shutters.
But Aramis had promised to protect her.
To love and cherish her always.
And he never broke a vow.
* * *
By the time Aramis reached the drive leading to Croft Manor, his lungs burned. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. Aaron sprinted beside him, determined to find Jacob Adams and make the devil pay.
Having left the coachman on the roadside, repairing the broken carriage wheel, they’d covered the last mile on foot. Not wanting to hinder their progress, neither spoke as they raced towards the manor. But the acrid smell of smoke reached Aramis’ nostrils, and visions of his old nightmares returned.
“Adams is here. Is it my imagination, or has he lit a fire?” His heartbeat pounded in his throat as he considered all the ways the bastard might hurt Naomi. “What if he means to burn the house to the ground and destroy any evidence?”
