by Meara Platt
Ewan put a hand on his shoulder. “Possibly. We don’t know for sure.”
“But I do. This is my fault. I’ve brought this destruction down on all of us.” His gaze softened as he looked at Lily. “Lass, I owe you an apology. You’ll have it properly from me, in writing, so that all will know that I was in the wrong.”
She stopped him, for there was such desolation in his eyes she felt as though he were punishing himself worse than she ever could. “It isn’t necessary. We have a building to salvage. And a birthday party to plan for you. We mustn’t let a case of explosives get in our way.”
Actually, it was three cases of explosives.
She turned to Ewan and saw that his brow was furrowed. He was thinking the same thought... had Lord Mortimer used all three cases? Or were more buildings about to crumble? Two possible targets came to mind, Lotheil Court and the Farthingale residence.
They had to stop Lord Mortimer.
The duke’s carriage rattled through the London streets with all the speed his horses, bred for power and endurance, could muster. The carriage drew to a halt about a block away from their destination. “Ain’t safe to proceed further, Your Grace,” the driver said. “Looks like ’alf the building toppled onto the street and it’s blockin’ our passage.”
Lily, Ewan, and his grandfather climbed down from the carriage and hurried the rest of the way on foot, pushing through the crowd already gathered. Ewan kept hold of Lily’s hand, his not so subtle way of assuring she’d remain by his side. Finally, they broke through the barrier of spectators and approached the building. Ewan held her back a moment while he surveyed the damage. Lily followed his gaze as it wandered from the street and upward to the imposing structure that rivaled the British Museum for grandeur.
Her heart shot into her throat. She’d never seen so much destruction in her entire life. She’d read about battles between ancient civilizations. She’d even read accounts of recent wars. Nothing had prepared her for the ruin that stood before her very eyes. The roof of the Royal Society’s new wing had fallen onto the street. The Roman statuary meant to decorate its cornices were shattered chunks of rock now partially blocking the street. The massive stone wall facing the street had completely crumbled and a red glow was visible from inside.
“Stand back, lass. It isn’t safe,” Ewan said as a gust of wind carried the smoky stench of fire toward them. A mix of sadness and the physical effect of stinging heat from the flames brought tears to her eyes. The air was too hot to breathe.
Ewan drew her back, for she was too distraught to consider obeying him. The new wing had been enormous, and now it was reduced to rubble. Fortunately, it had been left empty of exhibits, for none were to be brought in until after the duke’s party.
She turned to Ewan. “Do you think he used all of it up?”
His expression was grim. “No, lass. Two cases at most. The fire will destroy the rest of the building.”
“But it hasn’t spread to the original structure yet. That’s where all the important artifacts and documents are stored. We can still save them.” A brigade of men carrying buckets were forming a line from the building down to the Thames. She didn’t think their small buckets would defeat the fire, but they could delay its spread long enough to save the precious contents.
Ewan clamped his hand on her arm. “Lily, you’re not going into that building.”
At that moment, Evangeline, Meggie, and Desmond reached her side. “Of course not,” Desmond said, glancing from Ewan to his grandfather. “Not alone. We’re going in with you. Grandfather, do you have the key?”
Evangeline and Meggie grabbed a wheelbarrow that was sitting near a small side entrance beside an array of workmen’s tools. “Well? Are we Camerons going to just stand here and allow this building to burn?” Meggie demanded.
Ewan let out a strangled oath as Lily attempted to take a step toward that side entrance. “You’re coming with me. Remember your promise to stay close.”
She grinned at him and turned to his grandfather. “Your Grace, where’s that key?”
He withdrew it from the inner pocket of his jacket. Ewan gaped at him. His grandfather sniffed. “Always carry it with me. It’s an honor granted to the highest ranking member on the board. I take my responsibilities seriously.” He turned to Lily. “Unfortunately, I don’t always execute them properly. In truth, we old fossils seem to have lost our way these past few years. But things will change going forward. I do care deeply about the Royal Society and the great work it undertakes for the betterment of society.”
Lily shot him an indulgent smile. “I know, Your Grace. I never doubted your love for this place.”
“As I never should have doubted yours.”
Ewan took the key out of his grandfather’s hands. “Are we done with these mawkish displays of affection?”
“Quite,” Lily said with a soft laugh. “Let’s save some books.”
***
Within the hour, not only the ancient texts but masks, weaponry, utensils, maps, journals, and all manner of items displayed within the halls had been taken to safety. A regiment of soldiers housed in the Somerset Court barracks around the corner from the Royal Society had helped with the task. Half of those soldiers had worked with Ewan and Desmond to extinguish the fire, while the other half had assisted Lily, Evangeline, Meggie, and the duke in protecting and cataloguing the precious items that were then taken to their barracks for safekeeping.
As the night wore on, Lily realized that the Camerons, working together as a family, had saved almost everything precious. She felt a well of pride and satisfaction. As though reading her mind, Ewan came up beside her and drew her into his arms. She was covered in soot and smelled hideous, but he didn’t seem to care. He hadn’t come out of the past few hours unmarked either. He was sweating, and his crisp, white lawn shirt was badly stained, but Ewan—being Ewan—looked incredibly handsome, better than any man she’d ever set eyes upon. Ever. “Well done, lass.”
He’d rolled up his sleeves, and she felt the solid muscles of his forearms as he wrapped them about her. She snuggled against his chest. “An excellent night’s work. We work well together, don’t you think?”
“That we do.”
She smiled and gazed up at him. “You were spectacular in the way you organized all the men, those fighting the fire and the others who were helping us. It would have been chaos otherwise.”
He laughed and shook his head. “You have it backwards, lass. The Continental forces would have defeated Napoleon years earlier if they’d had you for a general. The Camerons can’t take credit for any of this. You’re the one who saved the Royal Society. You alone.”
She took comfort in the solid warmth of his chest. She had worked hard. Very hard. But she hadn’t managed the salvage operation on her own. Ewan and Desmond had meted out the tasks, had coordinated the fire brigade, and had made sure none of the men who’d gone into the dark, smoke-filled halls of the older building stole any valuables. The duke had been watching them as well, strutting back and forth, his aristocratic gaze sharp and assessing.
No one would dare cross the old duke.
Evangeline and Meggie had been just as busy assisting with the enormous task of cataloguing every saved artifact. They’d done a brilliant job of it.
By the time dawn broke over London to signal the start of a new day, most of the board of directors of the Royal Society had arrived and were now gathered in the regimental barracks. Lord Guilfoil was the last to arrive. Lily stiffened as he scowled at her. “What’s she doing here?”
The duke stepped forward. “Saving our sorry souls. If it hadn’t been for the girl, we’d have lost everything. Where were you? It hasn’t escaped my notice that you took your sweet time in getting here.”
Lord Guilfoil began to sputter a lame excuse, but the duke cut him off. “Save it, Guilfoil. You weren’t here when it mattered, so the board proceeded without you. We’re going to rebuild and improve the Royal Society. All applicants for membersh
ip will be welcomed and seriously considered on their merits. I’ll be sponsoring Lily Farthingale’s application.” He turned to Lily. “If you’ll allow me, lass. I’ve been an old fool and wish to make it up to you.”
Lily felt overwhelmed. She smiled at him and knew that smile must look ridiculous, for she was grinning from ear to ear, probably crying too. Her heart was about to burst with joy, and she was shaking. “I’d be honored.”
“Lily, you’re a miracle worker,” Evangeline said softly.
Lily wiped away a stray tear and stared at the Camerons, who were now lined up in a row in front of her. Evangeline and Meggie were clasping hands and smiling at her. The three Cameron men stood tall before her, their arms folded across their arrogantly puffed chests. Also smiling at her. The duke cleared his throat and turned to his granddaughters. “You both did a splendid job. I’m so pleased. Evie, I’m particularly proud of you. I’ve treated you miserably all these years, yet you responded without hesitation in this, my darkest hour.”
She blushed. “Thank you, Grandfather.”
“I’m going to need your help putting everything back in order. Will you work with me? You’ll have a title, of course. Curator of Antiquities. Will that do? Or would you prefer Director of Expeditions? You’ll require funds, of course. We’ll decide upon a budget, and if it isn’t enough, the board will approve more.” He turned to the other directors. “Isn’t that so?”
They all voiced their approval, stumbling over each other in their haste to agree.
The duke appeared content. He turned to Desmond. “Since the Royal Society will take up most of my time from here on in, I’ll need your help in running the Cameron shipping line. I know you’re familiar with the business. Will you take it over for me, Des?”
Desmond appeared wary at first, his gaze darting from Ewan to his grandfather, as though believing it was a trick. But Lily saw the hopefulness in his eyes and knew this was what he’d dreamed of. Ewan gave him an encouraging nod. There must have been a silent exchange between the two cousins, because Desmond’s wariness quickly disappeared. He turned to the old duke. “I’ll make you proud of me, Grandfather. I’ll start today. Right now. I won’t let you down.”
“I trust you, Des. I know the enterprise is in good hands. I’ve always been proud of you and Evie. Forgive me for not telling you sooner. Forgive me for all I’ve put you through. Things will change. Starting now.”
Though Desmond held back, Evie felt none of his reserve. She threw her arms around her grandfather and hugged him fiercely. “You’ve made us so happy. I love you, Grandfather.”
The duke hugged her back. Lily thought she detected a sniffle in his voice as he said, “I love you too, my sweet Evie.”
Ewan drew her back as his cousins and grandfather enjoyed their moment. “Lily, you’ve singlehandedly saved the Cameron family. We Cameron men are a bad mix of pride, arrogance, and stubbornness, but you managed to overcome all our defenses. I don’t know how to thank you.” He shook his head and put a hand to her lips before she had the chance to respond. “I take it back. Yes, I do.”
She gazed at him in confusion. “You do? How?”
“I’m going to ask you again to marry me.” He took her into his arms. She always liked the feel of his solid arms around her.
She continued to stare at him. “But you’ve already asked and I’ve accepted.”
A gleam sprang into his eyes. A wicked Highlander gleam. “I didn’t do it right.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I didn’t explain why I desperately wish you to marry me.”
She nodded. “Go on.” Her heart was in her throat. Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. Her legs had turned to butter.
She thought he was going to tell her that he loved her, so she wasn’t prepared when Ewan suddenly drew her behind him, muttering something that sounded like “Mortimer” before turning to lunge at his grandfather. Seemingly in the same motion, he grabbed the old man and shoved him to his knees just as a shot rang out. Desmond did the same with her, Evie, and Meggie, hauling them down and shielding them with his body.
Everything happened all at once. The echo of that shot still resounded in her ears as Lily turned to Ewan. Her eyes widened in horror at the crimson spurt of blood now spewing from his body. He tried to move, but grunted in pain and collapsed against his grandfather.
“No! Ewan!” She surged to her feet and started toward him, as did his family and the Royal Society board members. Then she noticed Lord Mortimer withdrawing a pouch from his cloak and moving toward a lit torch. The gunpowder! He meant to kill them all!
Lily lunged toward him, at the same time fumbling for the hat pin she carried within the folds of her sash. She tackled Lord Mortimer and stuck his hand with the hat pin. He yelped and dropped the pouch. She kicked it away and grabbed the torch to keep it out of his grasp.
“Jezebel! Witch! Ashton loved you and you betrayed him!” The soldiers of the Somerset barracks now burst through the door and quickly took Lord Mortimer into their custody.
“We’ll keep him locked up and under guard. Don’t you worry, Miss Farthingale,” said their captain.
“Search him. Search his coach. Look for gunpowder.” The captain nodded and issued more orders to his men. Four of them secured Lord Mortimer in their custody. The others hurried off to search his belongings.
As the last of them left, Lily turned to Ewan. Meggie was in tears, kneeling beside him. “Oh, no.” Lily’s heart began to pound through her ears. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. He was too proud and stubborn to die.
She heard him groan. Oh, thank goodness! “Ewan, where are you hit?”
“Just my shoulder. Solid shot this time. That hot metal lodged deep between the muscle. Hurts like blazes.”
Evie was first to her feet. “Come on, Desmond. We have to find Lily’s uncle. He’s a doctor. The best in London.”
Lily carefully removed Ewan’s jacket and shirt and then, with the assistance of several soldiers, settled him on one of the freshly made up cots in their barracks. While she gathered clean cloths and ordered water boiled, Meggie and her grandfather remained by Ewan’s side. She had watched her uncle tend to the injured, but had never seen him operate on anyone who had been shot. After thoroughly washing the soot and grime off her hands, she returned to Ewan’s side and busied herself by cleansing his wound, doing her best to stem the flow of blood. She didn’t know what else to do.
Despite her protests, Ewan eased himself into a sitting position on the cot. “Lily, lass. It’s just my shoulder. Nothing fatal.”
Though he tried to hide it, she heard the strain of agony in his voice. “I know,” she said in a shaky whisper, not quite believing his assurances.
He took her hand and held onto it until her uncle arrived. This was so like Ewan, determined to comfort her even though he was the injured party. George finally arrived after what seemed like forever and quickly set to work on Ewan’s shoulder. The others were herded out of the room, but Lily remained to assist him. She promptly and carefully followed each instruction. There was so much blood! Ewan was in so much pain.
***
“Sweetheart,” Ewan said softly, several hours later. The last of the metal fragments had been dug out of his shoulder and the wound properly bound. He was now safely back at Lotheil Court, his every comfort attended to by the Lotheil servants. George had ordered him to stay in bed and rest.
Ewan was already ignoring those orders, Lily noted with frustration. He’d bathed, put on clean clothes, and had a tempting array of plum cakes and raisin biscuits set out on a table by the hearth in the library. He was seated in one of the fat cushioned chairs in front of the hearth, his long legs stretched before him. Jasper was sprawled beside him, eyeing the raisin biscuits and whimpering. “Be quiet, ye bloody looby. I have something important to say to Lily.”
He stood up, giving no hint of discomfort as he rose, though he moved a little more slowly than usual and his injured shoulder was slightly
stooped. He took her hand again, squeezing it lightly but with firm determination, as though to prove he wasn’t going to die. They were alone in the library. She had come straight here with him, not taken the time to return home to bathe or change into clean clothes. She was a disheveled mess and suddenly felt quite awkward standing beside him.
He looked spectacular. Of course, he did. He was strong, proud Ewan.
She was a bluestocking who’d spent the past hours crying in the carriage on the ride to Lotheil because she thought he was going to die each time they hit a bump in the road, and crying some more in the Lotheil garden while the duke’s staff tended to Ewan upstairs. “I ought to go home to wash and change.”
“Stay. Please.”
She began to fuss and fidget. She couldn’t help it. She’d almost lost him. She was green and nauseated and still frightened out of her wits. Yet, he seemed so calm. “Sweetheart,” he repeated to gain her attention. “I’ve been stabbed and shot twice since coming to London.”
“Oh, Ewan! I know. It’s all my fault.”
He gave her hand another gentle squeeze. “No, lass. That isn’t my point. As I said, stabbed and shot twice.”
“And almost blown to pieces.”
“Right. I don’t think this town agrees with me.”
She shook her head and sighed. “I suppose not.”
“What I’m trying to tell you is that I don’t belong here. Lass, my place is in the Highlands.”
She held her breath in sudden panic. Had he reconsidered? Decided not to marry her after all? She did look a sooty mess. “Ewan, what are you saying?”
“I’ll be leaving here when my three months are up. Perhaps sooner, since I think I’ve accomplished what this visit was meant to bring about. With your help, of course.”
She nodded, now wishing she’d taken a moment to tend to herself. If he was going to rescind his marriage proposal, she wished to be properly dressed to receive the bad news. Not that it mattered how she looked or what she wore while her heart was being ripped to pieces. She continued to hold her breath as he resumed the conversation. “Desmond is more than capable of running the dukedom of Lotheil. He’s been raised to the task. He wants it, but most of all, he’s earned it.”