Decker emerged from Gray’s room, and she grabbed him. “There is fire in one of the buildings. We must sound the alarm.”
Decker sprang into action and rushed down the stairs, shouting for the other servants.
Olivia ran up to her. “What is it, Maggie? What has happened?”
“A fire in one of the buildings!”
Mr. Hendrick and Miss Miles appeared, Rodney behind them. Luckily, Sean had not awoken, and she hoped the earl slept as well.
“What is to be done?” cried Olivia, wringing her hands.
“You see to the earl,” Maggie told her. “Keep him calm if he wakes.” She turned to Miss Miles. “You stay with Sean in case he wakes and is frightened. The rest of us must help.”
“Not Rodney!” Olivia gasped.
“I must, Mother,” Rodney asserted himself. “It is my duty. Summerton will be mine someday.”
“Let him go,” Maggie insisted. “No one will allow him to be put in danger. We must hurry!”
Maggie dressed as quickly as she could, Miss Miles helping her with her laces. She ran down the stairs and out of the house. Lifting her skirts so she could run faster, she crossed the park and hurried toward the burning building—it was one used to store farm equipment. The area was already teeming with people. Tenants, groomsmen, laborers, house servants, all sprang into action. Mr. Murray was shouting instructions to all of them. Several bucket brigades had already formed to save the nearby stables and byre. Men led horses to safer ground. Others drove the livestock away. Flames roared from the windows of the building. Some men ran into the building, pulling out what equipment they could.
Maggie joined one of the lines of women passing empty buckets back to be refilled. In the distance a horse and rider galloped toward them.
Gray! He had returned! But to such a sight.
He dismounted before the horse had even come to a halt, close enough for her to hear him shout for one of the grooms to take the animal. Mr. Murray came up to him, gesturing wildly with his arms, pointing toward the fire.
He and Murray hurried toward the building. Fire raged through the structure, but Gray ran inside.
“No!” Maggie cried, dropping her bucket. He would be engulfed by flames. Overcome by smoke.
She clutched at her chest. The other women did not heed her but filled the gap and kept the buckets moving. A loud crack filled the air and the roof of the building began to collapse. Without thinking Maggie ran toward the fire.
Gray and two other men emerged from the doors of the building pulling out one of the plows. Her legs went weak in relief.
“Get away!” someone yelled. “It’s about to go.”
With a crack and a roar of flame, the entire roof caved in and the walls tumbled into the fire. Gray staggered backward, like the others, unable to keep his eyes from the sight.
He backed into Maggie, turning in time to grab her and keep them both from falling.
“Gray,” she cried, clinging to his coat. “You might have been killed!”
His face captured all the horror of the scene, and it took a moment before she felt he actually saw her. His expression turned fierce. “What are you doing here? Get back to the house. This is no place for you.”
A shower of glowing cinders rained down upon them. He dragged her away and frantically brushed the cinders from her hair.
“Go back to the house.”
“No. I can help.” She pulled away and ran back to the bucket brigade, looking over her shoulder to see him striding back to where Mr. Murray stood directing men to dampen down the nearby stables and coach house. This building was lost, and now all they could do was attempt to save the others.
Gray did not let himself think about Maggie while he worked to save the Summerton buildings. When he had grabbed her, her face had been lit by the raging flames. Cinder had rained on her hair. Where was her hat, for God’s sake?
He climbed up one of the ladders to the roof of the stable where he took the buckets passed up to him to keep the roof damp. He stomped out places where burning embers fell—they were flying everywhere while the fire consumed the collapsed building.
The night became a series of buckets grabbed and dumped and passed back. When the horizon showed a glimmer of light through the thinning smoke, Gray was only dimly aware that the shower of embers had ceased. The air still smelled of charred wood. He stopped and stretched his aching back. From the height of the roof, he could see Maggie, her face smudged with ash and her skirts caked with mud, still passing the empty buckets to the woman behind her. He also saw his nephew. And Hendrick. And Decker. And countless other familiar faces, faces he’d all but forgotten while he had been off fighting Napoleon’s army.
By God, he was proud of all of them.
“Come down,” called an exhausted-looking Murray. “It is over. The job’s done.”
A cheer went up and the men on the roof clapped each other on the shoulders and shook Gray’s hand. The women hugged, but the jubilation was tempered by sheer exhaustion. Like the rivulets of water that came from the buckets, the people began to stagger back to their homes and beds.
Gray slid down the ladder.
Murray waited for him at the bottom. “I believe all is secured, sir. I’ll have a few men remain to make certain.”
Gray glanced around him, surveying the damage from this vantage point. “I can stay.”
Murray shook his head. “Not necessary, sir. You’ve done enough.”
Gray put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’ve done the most, Ted. I thank you.”
Murray looked over to the burning ruin. “I lost the building.”
“Don’t be daft. You saved the coach house and the stables. And no one was hurt.”
Murray gave a skeptical smile, his gaze going back to the now-destroyed building. One of the workers called to him, and with a quick nod to Gray, he was off.
Gray surveyed the damage once more. If he stayed to help the few tired men who remained, he would only be in their way. Now that the emergency was over, they would never allow the earl’s son to do such menial, dirty work.
He started to walk back toward the house. Maggie was ahead of him, holding up her sodden skirts and moving with the exhaustion of a soldier who had marched twenty miles. Halfway to the house, she turned and gazed back at the charred ruins. She saw him following and waited for him.
When he reached her, she looked at him sadly. “It is lost.”
He stood next to her and they both surveyed the scene. The sun had risen high enough to show groomsmen leading the horses back to the stables. Other men were herding the livestock.
“It could have been far worse.” Gray gave silent thanks to these people who had toiled through the night to save the other buildings.
She swiped her forehead with a grimy hand. “They made such a pretty picture, the stable and coach house and outbuildings all matching the white stone of the great house. They must have been designed that way.” She sighed wearily. “It is all black now, like some horrible scar.”
Gray had never thought much about the architecture of buildings he’d looked at every day growing up. They had been merely places for him to escape his father’s temper, where men worked hard and spoke kindly to him. He saw the scene with fresh eyes, realizing anew how beautiful Summerton was, even with its scar.
“We’ll rebuild,” he said absently.
He glanced back at her, and she gave him a wan smile. She looked as if a mere feather would topple her over, and more by reflex than anything else, he put a steadying arm around her. She leaned against him and before he knew it, his other arm had encircled her. She buried her face into his chest, her fingers clinging to his coat. He held her close, rubbing his cheek against her silken hair, hair that smelled of smoke and soot, hair that might have gone up in flames when the cinders fell upon her.
They broke apart. He was not certain if it were he or she who moved away first, but her vivid blue eyes shone all the more brilliant in the early dawn l
ight. With what expression?
Longing? Regret?
Or were those his emotions?
She turned and, pulling her skirts away from where they clung to her legs, nearly ran back to the house.
Chapter TEN
All Maggie wanted was to strip off her wet dress and wash the dirt from her body. She refused to think of how it had felt when Gray held her, when her cheek rested against his hard chest, when his strength seeped into her.
She longed for a bath, but how could she ask any of the servants to carry water for her? Even her maid had been at the fire, passing buckets all night long. Kitt, looking like a wrung-out washrag, came to Maggie’s bedchamber to help her undress, but Maggie sent the girl to bed. She would make do with the water in the pitcher and would get herself ready for bed on her own.
She stood naked on a towel and scrubbed off the mud and soot as best she could. The water was cool, raising gooseflesh on her skin. She quickly dried herself and put on her nightdress. Sitting at her dressing table, she brushed the soot from her hair, wishing she hadn’t forgotten to put on a hat. She dampened her hair with lavender water and brushed it some more, to free it of the fire’s scent. By the time she had finished, Sean woke up, blessedly unaware of the frightening drama. Lovely Miss Miles returned to fetch him, dressing him and packing him off for breakfast in the nursery.
Maggie lay upon the bed and tried to sleep, but when she closed her eyes all she could see was the terrifying sight of Gray running into the burning building. Her heart still raced with fright.
She heard him moving about in the next room. Had he pulled off his clothes as she had done to wash off the soot and grime? She remembered his bare chest from his first night at Summerton. The Roman statues in the ballroom displayed muscles like that, all rippling with strength.
She groaned and covered her head with her pillow. What folly to think of how he would look undressed. He was not a true husband to her, and she was not his proper wife.
And he was leaving.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. He might be packing at this very moment. He might be preparing to leave Summerton, never to return, and it would be all her fault. For the rest of her life, she must live with what she had done to him. Her only wish now was to try to tell him how grateful she was to him.
Flinging aside the bed linens, she jumped out of bed and walked over to the door that joined her room to his. She pressed her ear against the cool wood.
His room was quiet. He could not have left already, could he? Please let him merely be sleeping.
She put her hand on the knob and turned it, but quickly let go and backed away from the door.
If he was sleeping, she did not wish to wake him, not after he had worked so ceaselessly battling the fire. She would have heard the door to his bedchamber open and close if he’d left. She would have heard his footsteps pass her door.
Her clock chimed nine o’clock. Lord Summerton’s breakfast hour. Had the earl been roused by the commotion of the fire? He would only be more cross if his sleep had been disturbed.
She sat on the bed but could not make herself lie down again. Perhaps she ought to give Lord Summerton company, as he was accustomed to her doing.
If only she could reason with the earl. Tell him how hard his son worked at the fire. Convince him he ought to welcome this fine man into his heart, as a father ought his son.
It was no use. As long as she resided at Summerton, Gray’s family would not be restored to him.
She crossed the room and pulled a morning dress from the wardrobe. Managing to fasten the dress herself and pin her hair up, she walked down to the breakfast room.
The earl was in his usual seat as she entered, his plate piled high with more food than he would be able to eat.
He lifted his fork, barely looking up at her. “Hmmmph. You are late.” A bit of egg clung to the corner of his lower lip.
“Good morning to you, too, sir.” She put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
The smell of the ham, eggs, and bread made her suddenly ravenous. Passing buckets all night did wonders for the appetite. She spooned two eggs from the warming dish, instead of one, adding a large slice of ham she would otherwise have forgone.
One of the footmen, dark circles under his eyes, appeared at her elbow to pour her tea. The poor man ought to be in his bed. “I think we can manage without you,” she said to him.
He gave her a grateful bow and left. The earl noisily chewed his piece of toast.
“Were you awakened last night, my lord?” she asked tentatively.
“I sleep like the dead. I’ve told you that, girl. If one works hard, it is nothing to fall asleep at night.” He jabbed at the air with his knife. “Mark my words.”
“Wisely said, sir.” Maggie leaned over and wiped the egg from his mouth with her handkerchief.
He waved her away. “Stop fussing. You treat me like an old man.”
“Never, my lord.” She smiled.
He shoveled more food into his mouth.
Maggie regarded him carefully between bites of her own. Cutting her ham, she asked somewhat tentatively, “Did anyone tell you of the fire last night?”
“What fire?” He twisted his head looking around the room. “I know of no fire.”
“One of the outbuildings. The building was destroyed, I’m afraid, but no one was seriously hurt.” She kept her voice calm.
The earl’s cheek twitched, a sure sign of trouble to come.
The door opened, and Gray entered. Maggie’s heart leapt at seeing him.
He gave her the briefest of glances. “Good morning.”
“Hmmph,” Lord Summerton responded. “Not sleeping the day away like usual, eh? Taking a page from my book for once. Rise early and prepare for the day . . .”
Gray seemed to not attend to this pontification. He fixed his plate, and picked the seat across from Maggie, who poured some coffee for him.
“. . . Never knew such a scapegrace for sleeping the day away.” Lord Summerton pointed his knife at his son. “That boy kept town hours. No use at all. Now, Vincent rose early. Why, many was the time he rose before me. Out riding the property with Murray while I was still snoring in my bed . . .”
Maggie felt her face flush. Gray had probably not slept at all and this rant of his father’s was so unfair. She would have attempted to stop it, but did not dare risk setting off the earl’s temper.
Gray lifted his head with a shrug and said to Maggie in a low voice completely devoid of sarcasm, “My brother was a fine man.”
He was a fine man as well, she wanted to protest! A man who’d labored all night to save his father’s property. A man who would give up his home and family and future because of her.
“What did he say?” the earl asked her. “What did he say?”
“I said my brother was a fine man, Father,” Gray answered in a flat tone.
“Yes, indeed,” muttered the earl.
Gray turned his attention back to Maggie, but the sadness in his eyes nearly broke her heart. “Did you manage some sleep, then?”
“No.” It was too painful to meet his gaze. “I could not settle.”
“You don’t sleep the day away, Maggie girl,” Lord Summerton interjected.
“I referred to the fire last night, Father,” Gray said.
His father dropped his fork with a clatter. “There was no fire.”
“One of the outbuildings caught fire. I thought it might have woken you.”
“I’m sure if there had been a fire, I would have woken, boy.” Lord Summerton’s face grew red. “There was no fire.”
Do not argue with him, Maggie pleaded silently.
Gray gave his father a puzzled look. “I assure you there was a fire. You can still smell it—”
“Do not be insolent with me, young man!” Summerton’s voice rose. “This is my property, and I’ll brook no disrespect on my own land. Thought I sent you packing ages ago—”
T
he son stiffened.
Maggie quickly placed a calm hand on Lord Summerton’s arm. “Of course, you demand respect,” she said, soothing him but wanting more to soothe his son. “He meant no disrespect, my lord. Remember? I just told you about the fire.”
“Hmmph,” his lordship said. “He should not be here. I want him gone.”
“You will get your wish soon enough,” Gray shot back.
Maggie broke in. “Lord Summerton, you are being very unkind to your son.” She kept her voice calm but firm. Sometimes the earl responded well when she spoke to him as if he were Sean’s age. “I am very ashamed of you. I thought you a better man than that. Now let us have a civil breakfast.”
“I have finished eating.” His lordship glared at Gray and struggled to his feet.
Maggie jumped out of her chair to assist him. After he steadied himself with his cane, he shook her off and hobbled out of the room. Parker met him outside the door, and Maggie sat down again.
Gray, face red, shoved food into his mouth. His fork jabbed at the ham as if it were an enemy.
“He does not mean what he says.”
His eyes flashed. “Indeed?”
“You don’t understand . . .”
He put his cutlery down and gave her a level stare. “Do not explain my father to me, Maggie girl.” Venom might as well be pouring from his mouth. “You are welcome to him. I plan to put as much distance between my father and myself as I am able.”
She extended her hand to him, but he waved it aside, attacking his food instead.
“I wished to speak to you of this.” She took a bracing breath. “To tell you how sorry I am you must give up Summerton. It is your home.”
He laughed. “My father banished me from this place. He said long ago that it was no longer my home.” He glared at her. “Your apology would better address having forced my return. That I find difficult to forgive.”
He could pretend to himself that his father and Summerton meant nothing to him, but she had seen his face when his father attacked him. And she’d seen him toil for Summerton.
She gave him an earnest look. “I realize the enormity of your sacrifice for me.”
The Improper Wife Page 14