The Stolen Bride (27 page)

“Daft woman,” shouted Jago.

The housekeeper cringed but cried, “Someone just broke through the pantry window, Jago!”

Jago cursed, threw down his useless pistol, and ran out.

Edith shouted, “Go with him, Caleb. I’ll guard this silly tottie!”

Caleb, after a hesitation, ran from the room.

As soon as she was released, Sophie leapt to her feet. She did not run toward the door blocked by Edith Hever but back to the shrine. She grabbed a burning lamp, retreated a few steps, and with tremendous relish huffed it in Edwin Hever’s sour face.

It smashed. Burning oil drenched the floating crape. Within seconds the portrait was framed by shooting flames.

“No!” howled the woman and ran forward to save the picture. Sophie hesitated for a moment with a look at Verderan, but then fled toward the door—to be knocked flying when it was flung open by Caleb.

He grabbed her. “Da wants you for a hostage,” he said.

“No, Caleb!” Sophie screamed, resisting as best she could.

“Caleb!” shrieked Lady Hever. “Look what she’s done!”

Wild-eyed, the woman grabbed a candlestick from the table, lit it at the fiery shrine, and ran forward. “Burn with him, then!” she cried and Sophie screamed as the flame was thrust to her skirt.

Verderan heard screams. He groaned as he opened his eyes but came to alertness at the sight of leaping flames. He staggered to his feet and saw a young man all over Sophie, and Lady Hever belaboring him with a candlestick.

He threw the woman aside and dragged the attacker off Sophie, but she cried out, “Not him! Watch for Lady Hever!”

He twisted in time to deflect the candlestick from his head. He grabbed it from the demented, gibbering woman and hurled it across the room. Lady Hever went for his eyes with her nails.

“Your house is on fire, if you haven’t noticed,” he said and gave the woman a mighty shove so that she fell backward over a chair to the floor.

He looked at Caleb, standing dazed in the middle of flames and mayhem, and knocked him out with a precise blow to the chin. Then he grabbed Sophie and ran out into the hall.

A shot was heard from the back but he ignored it, heading for the front door.

“Randal!” cried Sophie, fighting his hold. She would have run toward the back of the house, but Verderan’s grip was steely and he didn’t pause.

“Can look after himself,” he said as he dragged her out into the fresh air. He didn’t head down the drive but into the concealment of the shrubbery. He stopped there, gasping, and put a hand to feel his head. He winced.

“Are you all right?” asked Sophie then looked back through the rhododendrons toward the house. Smoke was beginning to billow from the dining room window and flames were spreading through the room. She felt sorry for Caleb, who in the end had saved her by putting out the flames.

“No,” groaned Verderan. “I am not all right. It is, however, irrelevant. I’m going to call off the attack. You stay here.”

He raced off across the drive and down the other side of the house. After a moment, Sophie followed. She realized for the first time that her leg hurt and when she looked she saw it was burned—not badly but painfully. Moreover her skirt was in charred shreds all down one side. She trembled at the thought of what might have happened if Caleb hadn’t acted quickly to extinguish the flames.

She looked again at the burning room, wondering if she could go back to her rescuer but abandoned the notion. The room was truly afire. If he hadn’t come to his senses and got himself out, he was as good as dead by now.

When a breeze whipped her tattered skirts away from her legs, she gave a moment’s thought to modesty. Then she discarded it as being as irrelevant as Verderan’s aching head.

As she made her way cautiously down the side of the house she heard Verderan shouting, “Randal, Marius. We’re out!” As she came up behind him he said, “Damnation,” and climbed through a broken window. Randal and Marius must have progressed into the main part of the house, either that or been captured. The latter seemed unlikely, though, with Caleb probably out of the fight and only Jago against them.

Sophie couldn’t face climbing through the window and knew it might be wiser to wait safely outside. She simply couldn’t, though. She crept cautiously around to the back of the house and approached the kitchen door. She peeped in.

Mrs. Haines and the maid were sitting in dumb terror at the table. Another shot cracked and Sophie thought she heard a scream. She made her decision and opened the door.

“The house is on fire!” she cried. “Save yourselves!”

The smoke could be smelled and the woman leapt up, wailing. “Oh mercy me! Oh heavens! Come on, Maisie. Save yourself!”

Grabbing a few obviously treasured items, the woman fled past Sophie, the maid stumbling behind her.

When Sophie opened the door into the house, she realized her words had been true. Glebe House was on fire. She had never been involved in a fire before, and it was terrifying how quickly it was spreading. The long passageway leading down to the hall was already swirling with wisps of smoke. She could hear the crackle and roar of flames. Where were the men?

At that moment she saw Randal in the hall and called his name. He ran toward her and caught her into a crushing embrace. “God, Sophie...” She held him just as tight. Even in the urgency of the situation she just wanted to hold him and never let him go.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

“The older man’s dead but the young one is getting away...”

“Let him,” she said, coughing as the smoke began to thicken. “He saved me. Let’s go, Randal. The house will be down about our ears. Where are the others?”

“Lady Hever went upstairs. Marius followed to try and rescue her and Verderan went to stop him. Come on,” he said, heading back to the hall. “It’s safe enough yet and they may need help.”

The swirling smoke made her cough again but it was up near the ceiling as yet. The dining room door was shut but beginning to blister. It would not hold much longer. They prudently took a position by the front door. “Ver. Marius,” Randal bellowed over the roar of the fire. “Come on!”

In a moment the two men came running down the stairs. “The damned woman’s found a pistol somewhere,” gasped Verderan. “I finally persuaded our chivalrous baronet she wasn’t worth dying for.”

Randal swung open the front door and they all ran out, coughing, into the fresh air and sunshine. Flames were shooting out of the dining room window now. With a
whoosh,
the dining room door burst open, shooting fire all over the hall.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” asked Sophie, still firmly in Randal’s arms.

“What?” Randal replied. “When the smoke’s noticed someone will probably come, but from what I’ve seen I think it’s better this place be allowed to burn.”

“Yes,” Sophie said with a shudder, clutching at his strong arms. “She had shrines to Edwin everywhere, and all his things... Randal, she even has a full-sized dummy of him in his dressing room—”

She broke off as she saw Lady Hever through the smoke staggering down the stairs with the wax dummy clasped in her arms.

“My God,” said Randal, for at this distance, it was frighteningly realistic. It even seemed to move, to lean closer to the woman. Then Sophie realized it was softening in the heat of the fire which was now licking at the stairs themselves. The woman seemed completely unaware of her danger.

Marius moved forward but Verderan brought him crashing down in an efficient tackle. The two men were fighting over it when Randal set Sophie aside and ran forward.

“No!” she screamed and grabbed at the tail of his jacket. It slipped through her fingers, and she called after him as he ran toward the flaming house.

Lady Hever looked up and saw them. She dropped the dummy so it sprawled soggily on the smoldering stairs, took a pistol from her pocket and fired. Randal fell into the dirt.

Sophie rushed forward but he was already scrambling to his feet. “Didn’t touch me. Just instinct.” He would have gone toward the house again but at that moment the stair carpet caught fire and both Lady Hever and her treasure were engulfed in flames.

Sophie saw Edith Hever, the effigy once more in her arms, scream as the flames reached her. As Edwin melted over his mother, Sophie fainted.

 

She came to in Randal’s arms, in a field far away from smoke and death.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Half a mile or so away from the fire,” he said, stroking her back gently. “We decided it would be simpler not to be around when anyone turned up.” He drew her closer and his cherishing hold spoke of his concern and relief that she was safe. She held onto him in the same, eloquent way.

“How did you get hurt?” he asked.

“I set her picture of Edwin on fire, so she tried to do the same to me. Caleb saved me.”

“Then I hope he won free.” He moved her slightly so he could look into her face. He ran his fingers gently down her cheek and rubbed gently at one spot. “You have smut,” he said calmly then rested his head against hers. “I’ve died a thousand deaths since I realized you were missing.”

In a moment he carried on more composedly. “Marius has gone to get some kind of carriage for you. Your leg must hurt.”

“Yes,” she said, becoming aware of the pain.

“Verderan’s gone in search of water. We’ll bind your leg with cold cloths. Will you be able to bear it like that until we’re away from here? If not we’ll just go to the nearest village and find a doctor and to hell with the questions.”

She’d spent a large part of her childhood being brave at his careless request and the habit held. Verderan soon came back from a nearby farmhouse with a bucket of cold water. He and Randal sacrificed their cravats and Randal laid them, cool and wet, on her leg. The pain eased and she was able to assure him honestly that it was not so bad.

She then told him as much as she knew of Lady Hever’s actions and motives. “She was clearly mad,” she ended.

Randal sank his head in his hands. “So James is at death’s door because Edith Hever thought you were being forced to marry me when you really loved Edwin. And that he had killed himself because of a broken heart...” His fingers tightened in his hair. “It doesn’t bear thinking of.”

“It could be you lying unconscious,” she said softly.

He looked up. “It should be me.”

She took his hand. “You can’t expect me to agree with that, Randal.”

He reached for her and held her close. She saw Verderan had moved a tactful distance away.

Eventually he said, “What did you mean yesterday when you asked me if I loved you?”

Sophie stirred uncomfortably. “Silliness,” she confessed. “With all that’s happened since, it seems ridiculous. You’d been behaving so strangely though, ever since we became engaged, that I began to think you didn’t really want to marry me.”

His arms tightened. “You’re as mad as Edith Hever,” he said.

Sophie shuddered. “Don’t jest about it, Randal.”

He tilted her face up so she had to look at him. “I’m sorry. But, Sophie, I adore you. What’s more I need you in a hundred different ways.”

Sophie traced his fine lips. “For kisses?”

He smiled slightly. “Rather more than kisses, minx.”

She blushed. “For... for bed?”

He cradled her head and a thumb played softly near the corner of her mouth. “Oh, yes, I need you there, little flame. Need you more than you can possibly imagine... but more than that too.”

“What then?”

His fingers threaded gently among her tangled curls. “For everything, Sophie. For sharing joys and sorrows, for teasing and being teased, for facing problems and celebrating triumphs...”

Sophie felt tears of joy as she twisted her head to reverently kiss his hand.

“Of course,” said Randal softly, directing her lips to where he most wanted them to be so his breath melded warm with hers, “if we can do all that in bed, so much the better.”

Verderan studied a field of cowslips with all the concentration of an ardent botanist as his friend showed Sophie just how much he loved her.

I
T WAS dark by the time they returned to Stenby Castle in the shabby coach Marius had bought, explaining apologetically that he’d thought it better to do that than to bring along a coachman or postilions. And, he added, he might know someone glad to buy it off him cheap.

They were greeted at the Castle with great relief and no sooner were they in the door than David grasped Randal’s arm and said, “We have good news for you too. Chelmly has recovered consciousness.”

Randal colored and a brilliant smile lit up his face. “He will be all right?”

“Killigrew makes no promises—you know how he is—but even he looked cheerful. Not that you’re free of work, Randal, for it’s clear Chelmly will need a long repairing lease but you probably won’t have to wear strawberry leaves.”

“If we can get Chelmly married,” said Sophie, hugging Randal to share his delight. “More than ever, I am determined on it.”

Randal swung her into his arms. “But not for a while. I doubt either of you are up to it and Killigrew has another patient, I fear.”

But when Sophie was settled in her bed it was the general opinion that her leg did not need the doctor’s care. The cold cloths had been applied throughout the journey and the reddening had lessened. There were only one or two blisters. The housekeeper produced her famous Black Salve and spread it liberally all over the burn, promising that by the next day it would be painless and by the day after, healed.

Then Marius, Randal and Verderan had to tell their story to David, Mortimer, Jane, and Beth.

“Do you know,” said David soberly, “this all could be laid at my door. If I hadn’t allowed Uncle Henry to involve me in his investigations you wouldn’t have killed Edwin Hever and there would have been no attack on Chelmly.”