Hoyt, Elizabeth - The Leopard Prince2.txt
Page 30
decision for him.
Harry realized that he’d been staring at his lady far too long. Her
hopeful expression had closed into one more guarded. He opened his mouth
to reassure her when he caught a flicker from the corner of his eye. He
raised his head. Yellow and orange lights danced at the window.
He stood up and strode to the window.
“What is it?” Lady Georgina called from behind him.
In the distance, a pyramid of light lit the night, glowing like
something out of hell itself.
“Harry.” He felt Lady Georgina’s fingers on his bare shoulder. “What—?”
“Granville House is burning.” /Bennet./ Panic, pure and instinctual,
flooded his veins.
Lady Georgina gasped. “Oh, my dear Lord.”
Harry whirled and caught his shirt, flinging it on. “I need to go. See
if I can help in any way.” Was Bennet asleep in his father’s house tonight?
“Of course.” She bent to pick up his breeches. “I’ll come with you.”
/“No.”/ He snatched the breeches from her hand and tried to control his
voice. “No. You must stay here.”
Lady Georgina frowned in that stubborn way of hers.
He didn’t have time for this. Bennet needed him now.
“But I—” she began.
“Listen to me.” Harry finished tucking in his shirt and grabbed his
lady’s upper arms. “I want you to do as I tell you. Granville is
dangerous. He doesn’t like you. I saw the look he gave you when you took
me from his tender care.”
“But surely you’ll need me.”
She wasn’t listening to his words. She thought herself invincible, his
beautiful lady, and she was simply going to do as she pleased.
Regardless of what he thought. Regardless of Granville. Regardless of
the danger to herself and the babe.
Harry felt fear build to an unbearable level inside him.
“I don’t need you there.” He shook her. “You’ll only get in the way. You
might get yourself killed. Do you understand?”
“I understand you are worried, Harry, but—”
Would she never give up? “Goddamn it!” He frantically looked around for
his boots. “I can’t fight the fire and you at the same time. Stay here!”
There they were, half under the bedskirts. He pulled his boots out and
stamped them on, then snatched up his coat and waistcoat. He ran to the
door. No use going out the window again—all of England would know soon
enough that he’d been in his lady’s bed.
He twisted at the door to repeat, “Stay here!”
On his last glimpse of her, Lady Georgina seemed to be pouting.
He thundered down the stairs, pulling on his coat. He would have to do a
lot of apologizing when he returned, but he didn’t have time to think of
that now. His brother needed him. He dashed to the front door, waking a
sleeping footman as he passed, and then he was out in the night. Gravel
crunched beneath his boots. He ran around the corner of Woldsly. He’d
tied the mare not far from his lady’s window.
Come on. /Come on./
The mare was standing in the shadows, dozing. He vaulted into the
saddle, startling the horse. He kicked her into a gallop, rounding the
manor. By the time they hit the drive, the mare was going flat out. Here
in the open, the fire seemed to loom larger in the sky. Even from this
distance, he could see the flames leaping into heaven. He thought he
smelled the smoke. It looked huge. Was the whole of Granville House
engulfed? The mare reached the road and he slowed just enough to make
sure there were no obstacles ahead. If Bennet and Will had been inside
asleep . . .
Harry shook the thought away. He would not think until he reached
Granville House and saw the damage.
Past the stream, lights glowed in the cottages dotting the hills. The
farmers who lived and worked on Granville land were awake and must know
of the blaze. But strangely he met no one else hurrying to the fire. Had
they gone on ahead or were they huddled inside their cottages,
pretending they didn’t see? He topped the rise before the Granville
gates, and the wind blew smoke and dancing ashes in his face. The mare
was flecked with foam, but he urged her on down the drive.
And then he saw. The blaze had enveloped the stables, but Granville
House was yet untouched.
The mare reared at the sight of the fire. Harry fought her down and
forced her closer. As they neared, he could hear the shouting of men and
the dreadful roar of the flames consuming the stables. Granville prided
himself on his horseflesh, and he probably had twenty or more horses
stabled here.
Only two horses were outside the stables.
Harry clattered into the yard, unnoticed by the lord or his servants.
Men milled, half-dressed, seemingly in a daze. Their blackened faces
were weirdly lit by the flames, the whites of eyes and teeth reflecting
the glow. A few had formed a line and threw puny buckets of water on the
inferno, merely making the monster more angry. In the middle of it all,
Silas Granville was a figure out of hell. In his nightshirt, his bare
legs sticking out of buckle shoes, his gray hair standing wildly on end,
he surged around the courtyard, shaking his fists.
“Get him! Get him!” Granville cuffed a man, sending him sprawling to the
cobblestones. “Goddamn all of you! I’ll see you run out of my lands!
I’ll see you hung, you filthy curs! /Someone get my son!/”
Only on the last word did Harry realize a man was trapped in the
inferno. He stared at the burning stables. The flames licked hungrily at
the walls. /Was it Thomas or Bennet?/
“Nooo!”
Somehow, over the roaring and shouting, he heard the thin wail. He swung
in its direction and saw Will, held physically off the ground by a burly
footman. The boy struggled and fought, his gaze fixed on the flames all
the while. “Nooo!”
It was Bennet in there.
Harry jumped from his horse and ran to the line of men hauling water. He
grabbed a full bucket and up ended it over his own head, gasping as the
cold water slapped him.
“Oy!” someone yelled.
Harry ignored the shout and plunged into the stable.
It was like diving into the sun. The heat embraced and overwhelmed him,
pulling him greedily down. The water in his hair and clothes hissed as
it turned to steam. A black wall of smoke blocked his way. Around him,
horses screamed their fear. He smelled ashes and, horribly, burning
flesh. And everywhere, over all the rest, the awful flames eating the
stable and everything within.
“Bennet!” He had the breath for one bellow.
His second breath brought ashes and burning heat into his lungs. Harry
choked, unable to speak. He pulled his damp shirt up and covered his
nose and mouth, but it made little difference. He stumbled forward like
a drunkard, desperately feeling with his hands. How long could a man
live without air? His foot struck something. Unable to see, he fell
forward. He landed on a body, felt hair.
“Harry.” A ghastly rasp. /Bennet./
Harry searched quickly with his hands. He’d found Bennet. And another man.
“Have to get him out.” Bennet was on his knees, struggling to pull the
man, moving the dead weight only an inch or two.
Nearer the floor, the air was a little better. Harry gasped, taking in a
lungful, and grabbed one of the unconscious man’s arms. He heaved. His
chest burned and his back ached as if the muscles were tearing. Bennet
had the man’s other arm, but he’d obviously reached the end of his rope.
He pulled only feebly. Harry hoped, /prayed,/ that they moved in the
direction of the stable door, that he’d not gotten turned around in the
smoke and screaming and ashes and death. If they went in the wrong
direction, they would die here. Their bodies would be so thoroughly
burned that no one would know which man was which.
/My lady needs me./ He grit his teeth and pulled against the agony in
his arms.
/I will be a father soon./ His foot caught and he staggered, but kept
himself upright.
/My child will need me./ He could hear Bennet sobbing behind him,
whether from the smoke or from fear, he didn’t know.
/Please, God, they both need me. Let me live./
And Harry saw it: the stable door. He gave an inarticulate shout and
coughed convulsively. One last, terrible heave and they were through the
stable doors. The cool night air embraced them like the kiss of a
mother. Harry staggered, still clutching the unconscious man. Then other
men were there, shouting and helping them away from the flames. He fell
to the cobblestones, Bennet beside him. He felt small fingers on his face.
He opened his eyes to see Will in front of him. “Harry, you came back.”
“Aye, I did.” He laughed and then started coughing, hugging the wiggling
boy to himself. Someone brought a cup of water, and he sipped at it
gratefully. He turned to Bennet, a smile on his face.
Bennet still wept. He coughed convulsively and clutched the unconscious
man in his arms.
Harry frowned. “Who—?”
“It’s Mr. Thomas,” Will said in his ear. “He went into the stables when
he saw the fire. Because of the horses. But he didn’t come out, and
Bennet ran in after him.” The boy patted Harry’s face again. “He made me
stay with that man. I thought he’d never come out again. And then you
went in, too.” Will wrapped his thin arms around Harry’s neck, nearly
throttling him.
Harry gently pried loose the boy’s arms and looked at the man they’d
pulled from the stable. Half his face was blistered and red, the hair
singed black and short on that side. But the other half was recognizable
as Bennet’s older brother. Harry held the side of his hand beneath
Thomas’s nose. Then he moved his fingers to the man’s neck.
Nothing.
He touched Bennet’s shoulder. “He’s dead.”
“No,” Bennet rasped in an awful voice. “No. He grasped my hand inside.
He was alive then.” He raised red-rimmed eyes. “We pulled him out,
Harry. We saved him.”
“I’m sorry.” Harry felt helpless.
“You!” Granville’s roar came from behind them.
Harry jumped to his feet, fists clenched.
“Harry Pye, you goddamn criminal, you started this fire! Arrest him!
I’ll see you—”
“He saved my life, Father,” Bennet choked out. “Leave Harry alone. You
know as well as I that he didn’t set the fire.”
“I know nothing of the sort.” Granville advanced menacingly.
Harry took out his knife and sank into a fighting crouch.
“Oh, for God’s sake. Thomas is dead,” Bennet said.
“What?” Granville looked for the first time at his eldest son, lying by
his feet. “Dead?”
“Yes,” Bennet said bitterly. “He went in after your damn horses and died.”
Granville scowled. “I never told him to go in there. Stupid thing to do,
just like everything else he’s ever done. Foolish and pointless.”
“Jesus Christ,” Bennet whispered. “He’s still warm. He breathed his last
only minutes ago, and you’re already demeaning him.” He glared up at his
father. “They were your horses. He probably ran in there to win your
approval, and you can’t even give him that after death.” Bennet laid
Thomas’s head down on the hard cobblestones and rose to his feet.
“You’re a fool, too, for going in after him,” Granville sputtered.
For a moment Harry thought Bennet would hit his father. “You’re not even
human, are you?” Bennet said.
Granville frowned as if he hadn’t heard, and maybe he hadn’t. His son’s
voice was nearly ruined.
Bennet turned away nevertheless. “Did you talk to Dick Crumb?” he asked
Harry in a voice so low no one else could hear. “I don’t think Thomas
set this fire and then ran into it.”
“No,” Harry replied. “I went to the Cock and Worm earlier, but he never
showed.”
Bennet’s face was grim. “Then let’s go find him now.”
Harry nodded. There was no longer any way to put it off. If Dick Crumb
had set this fire, he would hang for it.
GEORGE WATCHED THE DAWN BREAK with resignation. Harry had said he didn’t
need her, and he had not returned last night.
The message was quite clear.
Oh, she knew he’d spoken in haste, that when Harry had said, /I don’t
need you,/ he’d feared Lord Granville might harm her. But she couldn’t
help feeling that he had spoken a hidden truth in that moment of frantic
hurry. Harry guarded his words so well, was always so careful not to
offend her. Would he ever have told her that he just didn’t want to be
with her had he not been driven to it?
She turned the little carved leopard in her hands. He looked back at
her, his eyes blank inside his cage. Did Harry see himself in the
animal? She hadn’t meant to cage Harry; she’d only wanted to love him.
But no matter how she wished, she could not change the fact that she was
an aristocrat and Harry a commoner. The very circumstance of their
disparate ranks seemed to be the basis of Harry’s anguish. And that
would never change.
She rose carefully from her bed, hesitating when her stomach gave an
unpleasant roll.
“My lady!” Tiggle burst into the bedroom.
George looked up, startled. “What is it?”
“Mr. Thomas Granville is dead.”
“Good Lord.” George sat back down on the edge of the bed. She had almost
forgotten the fire in her misery.
“The Granville stables burned last night,” Tiggle continued, oblivious
to her mistress’s consternation. “They say it was set afire on purpose.
And Mr. Thomas Granville ran in to save the horses, but he didn’t come
out. Then Mr. Bennet Granville went in despite his father’s pleas not to.”
“Was Bennet killed as well?”
“No, my lady.” Tiggle shook her head, dislodging a pin. “But he was
inside so long that everyone thought them both dead. And then Mr. Pye
rode up. He ran inside right away—”
“Harry!” George leaped to her feet in terror. The room spun about her
sickeningly.
door. Or fall down. “He’s all right. Mr. Pye is fine.”
George slumped with a hand over her heart. Her stomach was backing up
into her throat. “Tiggle, for shame!”
“I’m sorry, my lady. But Mr. Pye, he pulled them both out, Mr. Thomas
and Mr. Bennet.”
“He saved Bennet, then?” George closed her eyes and swallowed.
“Yes, my lady. After what Lord Granville did to Mr. Pye, no one could
believe it. Mr. Pye, would have saved them both, but Mr. Thomas was
already dead. Burned fearfully, he was.”
George’s stomach lurched at the thought. “Poor Bennet. To lose a brother
in such a manner.”
“Aye, it must have been bad for Mr. Bennet. They say he held his
brother’s body as if he’d never let go. But that Lord Granville didn’t
turn a hair. Hardly looked at his dead son.”
“Lord Granville must be mad.” George closed her eyes and shuddered.
“There’s some who think so, indeed.” Tiggle frowned down at her.