Page 39 of An Arranged Betrothal with an Icy Duke
She was not moving. Fear clogged his throat. Putting one hand to her face, he paused for a moment, his eyes closed until, much to his relief, he felt a gentle heat of breath on his hand.
I have to get her free from here.Turning, he went to the door again, his lungs burning, checking to see that the path was clear – only for something huge, something heavy to come crashing down from the ceiling. Staggering back, Henry shut the bedroom door, his hand burning on the metal handle as he did so. He barely felt it, looking around the smoke filled room and trying his best to see what he ought to do next.
The window.
Coughing violently now, Henry made his way to the small window, trying to lift the latch to force it open but it was stuck. Without even a second of hesitation, he shoved his elbow through the glass, ignoring the searing pain that came with it. Fresh air poured in and he gulped it eagerly, his head already growing a little clearer.
“Here!” He tried to call out for the men around the front of the orphanage but his voice was cracked and hoarse from the smoke. Turning back around, Henry reached for something – anything – until his fingers grasped a small, wooden chair. With as much strength as he could muster, he threw it at the window and smashed it completely.
The air poured in and Henry quickly turned back to where Edith lay. It was only when he reached her again that he saw the truth… she had not just collapsed in a heap as he had feared, but instead, she was wrapped protectively around someone else. A small child who was coughing violently, his hands at his mouth, eyes streaming.
“Come here,” Henry said, as gently as he could. “I’ll get you out of here and back safely now. Come on.”
The boy held out his arms and Henry lifted him, hating the sound of the racking coughs which came from his chest. Approaching the window, reluctant to leave Edith for any great length of time, Henry’s heart filled with relief at the sight of two men standing by the window.
“We heard the crash,” one said, urgently. “Is she here?”
Henry nodded and handed the small boy carefully out of the window. “Take him. Quickly now.”
“You had best hurry, Your Grace,” the second said, taking the child carefully into his arms. “The whole place is about to collapse!”
As though the house had heard him, it creaked and groaned with a greater strength than before. With fear pounding throughhis veins, Henry hurried back across the room and took Edith in his arms. Her head lolled, her eyes closed, her face streaked with dirt. Hurrying to the window and heedless of the cuts to his arms as he gently passed her to the other two waiting men, Henry climbed out after her, his hands catching on the broken glass and leaving streaks of blood behind him.
As he reached for Edith, lifting her into his arms again, something exploded behind him. With a glance over his shoulder, Henry saw that the door to the bedroom, the one which had kept Edith and the child from the flames, had been blown back by the sheer force of the fire. With the shouts of the men in his ears and Edith held tightly in his arms, Henry rushed away from the burning orphanage, just as the roof collapsed completely.
***
“How is she, brother?”
Henry glanced at Lord Frankton as he came into the drawing room. “Brother. Good evening.” He cleared his throat. “I do not know. The doctor has not yet returned from examining her.” He looked to his brother again. “Thank you for leading the ball. The butler told me that you and our mother have taken care of everything.”
His brother merely nodded, his expression grave.
“The orphanage is gone,” Henry continued, beginning to pace up and down rather than look into his brother’s face. “There is nothing that can be salvaged. The whole thing will have to be rebuilt, though I have every intention of having that work begin almost immediately, of course. It will be larger too, so that it can accommodate more children.”
“But that is not your present consideration, surely?”
Henry passed one hand over his eyes, feeling the heavy burden of worry settling on his heart. “Edith has nothing butkindness and generosity for these poor, abandoned children,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “She spoke with such love and affection for one of the children back in London, Lilly. What if that child never sees her again? What if… ?” He could not bring himself to say it. Lord Frankton did nothing other than walk across the room and pour two measures of fine French brandy before handing a glass to Henry.
“You need not think such things. I am sure she will take some time to recover but will be well again soon enough,” he told Henry, settling one hand on his shoulder for a moment. “Let us try to be confident. Though… ” He trailed off, looking suddenly thoughtful. “Might I ask if you know how such a thing happened?”
Henry shook his head no.
“And who knew that your betrothed was to be at the orphanage?”
A little uncertain as to what his brother meant, Henry began to frown, stopping his pacing entirely. “I do not know. Why do you ask?”
His brother shook his head. “You will not like what I have to say so, for the moment, I will refrain. However, I will warn you that this could have been a deliberate act.”
Horror stabbed into Henry’s heart, making him catch his breath. “What can you mean by that? You think that someone deliberately set the fire in order to injure her?”
“Or, mayhap, to blame her for it? To make her seem foolish in your eyes? After all, it would not be the first time that – ”
Lord Frankton stopped dead, then shook his head before turning away.
“What do you mean?” An urgent fear began to creep into Henry’s heart and he came closer to his brother though Lord Frankton refused to look at him. “Brother, you must tell me now. What can you mean? What would not be the first time?”
His brother took in a long, deep breath and then shrugged. “I suppose that, even in these circumstances, I should take my opportunity to tell you what I know.”
