by Emma Brady
“I assume your butler knew, but was my sister involved?” he asked more directly.
“She was only trying to be a good friend to me,” Sinclair whispered.
“I have been betrayed by everyone,” he pounded his fist into the nearby wall.
Lucas felt a throbbing start in his head and closed his eyes against the pain. Knowing his sister had a hand in this only made it worse. Perhaps he had been wrong in acting so firmly against a woman in business, but he was in control of this house. No one was going to deny him that right.
“I should have guessed it was you,” he mumbled more to himself than to the woman standing there, “Only you would be able to cause me such trouble.”
“That was an accident. I hadn’t realized how my father’s business would affect yours.”
“You have a shrewd mind for business,” he said with a sarcastic tone, “I suppose now I will not have to fear losing my income. We could live off of your income.
He couldn’t see her face but he felt that his words had struck their mark. The sobs had stopped and now the room was silent. It felt as if the air had left the room empty and now he couldn’t breathe. Lucas was beginning to suffocate.
“What do we do now?” Her voice was soft as she asked this question. A sense of loss was in the sound of it. Even now she was too proud to beg and he found he still respected her for it. The damn woman was still amazing to him.
“This ends now. You will no longer be involved in your father’s business,” He kept his voice calm, “You will sell your portion to me and I will handle it as it should be.”
“If I say no?”
“I’m not giving you a choice.”
Legally they both knew he could take possession without her agreement. That would only make things get ugly. “Very well.”
Lucas couldn’t stand listening to her voice without being able to see her face. Her eyes often gave away more than her words and he wanted to see them now. It was important that he know how she felt after tonight.
What he saw when he turned around almost tore his anger to shreds. She stood there, in her gray walking dress, with hair falling around her face. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she gazed openly at him. The look in her eye was one of deep pain and sorrow. It was the eyes of someone in mourning.
“Your mistress watched our scene today.” Sinclair said with trembling lips “I think she hopes to lure you back now. I saw the look of triumph in her eyes.”
“Marissa does not like to lose.”
“Did her ploy work? Will you return to her now that you know what kind of woman you married?”
“It is an idea worth some thought.”
Lucas didn’t know why he lied to her then. Probably to hurt her like he’d been hurt. Still, the look of anguish on her face etched into his mind. Not since the first moment he met her had he seen such pain on her face.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispered, “You couldn’t.”
“You do not know what I might do.”
“I trust you, Lucas. Jjust remember that.”
“I must go,” he said, feeling his stomach turn at his own viciousness.
Looking away, he heard her call out his name in a strangled voice. It made him freeze where he stood, unable to breathe. His hand was on the doorknob but he couldn’t stop himself from listening to what she said.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered.
It was against her nature to ask for things, much less plead as she had done. He knew how difficult it was for her to ask him that simple request. Torn between his love for her and his anger, Lucas left the room in silence
Chapter 28
For minutes after he’d left, Sinclair stood frozen in the quiet room. She waited breathlessly for him to return. When the sound of the front door could be heard she knew he was gone and all the strength drained from her body.
With a loud thud she hit the floor sobbing wildly. It felt as if everything had crumbled beneath her. Her mind went blank with despair as she cried with abandon.
“What happened? Are you alright?” Frederick came rushing in.
As Frederick tried to help her to her feet, Sinclair attempted to explain what happened. Her words came out jumbled, tripping over her wet lips. She couldn’t seem to stop the flow of tears down her face.
Frederick carried Sinclair up to her room and called a maid to help her into bed. The poor woman looked frightened by the hysterics but did as she was told. After that, Frederick brought in a warm cup of tea that he forced down her throat.
“I hate that stuff,” Sinclair wailed, trying to push away the cup.
“It will make you feel better.”
It wasn’t until moments later that she realized her dear friend had slipped some brandy in her drink. Now she sat against the pillows, exhausted from crying but ultimately calm.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she told him, her eyes glazed over, “Slipping spirits to a lady.”
“It was the only thing I could think of to calm your nerves.”
“I suppose I am feeling better.” Her head felt heavy and her eyelids drooped a little. “Would you mind keeping an old friend company?”
“I heard the two of you arguing before Lord Westmore left.” He took a seat in a nearby chair.
“Frederick, the man was unreasonable in his anger.”
She had expected her friend to be on her side, but he surprised her. Instead she saw him shaking his head in disagreement.
“The man reacted the way any man in his position would.”
“Like an animal?” Sinclair hated when her voice took on that childish note.
“You stripped him of his pride,” said Frederick, patting her hand, “A man takes such things seriously.”
“I never meant to hurt him.”
New tears freshened in her eyes as she remembered his refusal to answer her question before leaving. He might be with that evil woman at that moment.
“He wants me to give up my father’s company.” She saw his thin black eyebrows shook up in surprise. “What if it is my destiny? Should I turn my back on it?”
“It’s a woman’s destiny to marry and raise a family, nothing about business.” He said the same thing any man would.
Shaking her head, Sinclair could feel herself growing more tired. Her head began to slide back onto the pillows. The bed she lay in felt warm and cozy, making her more comfortable. “You sound just like Lucas when you talk like that.”
“He isn’t entirely wrong.”
“He isn’t right either.” Frederick sat there looking at her without saying anything. She could feel his disapproval. “I can’t believe that I wasn’t meant to do this, not after I have managed to do so well the last few months.”
Brushing hair away from her forehead, Frederick tucked the blanket tighter around her. She nestled into it, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them he stood at the door.
“I didn’t get the chance to tell him that I loved him.” She said.
“You will get the chance.”
“What if I don’t?” She heard the panic in her own weak voice as she spoke. Frederick looked at her with a strange smile on his face.
“Go to sleep. When you wake up things will be better.”
Those were the last words she heard before drifting off into a peaceful slumber. It gave her hope that Frederick wasn’t worried. The man had an uncanny gift for being right.
A few hours later Sinclair woke to find she was trapped inside her nightmare again. The smell of smoke crept into her nose, choking her. Heat surrounded her body as it lay sweating beneath her blankets. Kicking them away, she struggled to move off the bed.
“Sinclair!”
A voice called out to her but it sounded distant. Fighting against the smoke, she tried to sit up in bed. It wasn’t a dream. Her room was filled with smoke.
“Sinclair!”
The voice, it was Frederick calling to her from the other side of the door. Falling t
o the floor, she crawled through the haze in the direction of his voice. Pounding could be heard as the butler tried to break through. She couldn’t remember locking the door, but she couldn’t remember much at the moment.
“I’m coming,” she croaked, hoping he would hurry, “Frederick, I’m almost there.”
With all the strength she had, Sinclair lifted her body and lurched towards the door. One final thud was heard before the door gave way. Frederick scooped her up and rushed her into the hallway. The feel of fresher air burned into her lungs.
“Are you hurt?” The butler asked.
“I’m fine. I just don’t know what is happening.”
He laid her against the banister while he went in to try and extinguish the fire. That’s when Sinclair saw smoke creeping its way beneath the other doors down the hall.
“Frederick,” she called, “I don’t think we should stay here.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be able.....” Frederick stopped mid sentence as he left her room. His face was dripping sweat and his clothes were crumpled as if he’d thrown on the ones from the day before. “I think we should be leaving now. Will you be able to walk?”
Sinclair nodded, not wanting to be carried again. Her chest burned, but her legs worked fine as she swiftly moved down the stairs. Once they reached the landing, she paused to catch her breathe.
“Where is Charlotte?” she asked.
“I sent her out for help when I realized you were locked in.”
She turned to leave when she heard a strained noise over her head. It was a strange kind of creaking that she remembered but couldn’t place. The ceiling came down in front of her, bringing the fire with it.
“Sinclair, are you alright?” Frederick was on the other side, closest to the door.
“I think so, but I can’t get through.”
The smoke was so dense now she could barely breathe. Her eyes watered and her face burned. Fighting the smoke back with her arms she tried to find a way around the broken pieces of wood that lay burning in front of her.
“I think I can get halfway up the stairs. It might allow me to jump to your side. ,” she said as her hand touched the polished wood of the bannister.
“That won’t work, the stairs will be burning soon.”
“Not before I jump from it.”
“You could break your leg.” Frederick didn’t sound like his calm self anymore.
“Unless you can tell how to grow wings there is no other way.”
Going up about hallway, she could see Frederick on the other side of the blazing fire. He looked as frightened as she felt. Bracing herself, she leapt through the air towards him, closing her eyes with fear. Frederick caught her with ease, but refused to put her down at first. Instead, he threw her over his shoulder and started running for the door.
“Frederick, you can move faster without me,” she told him from where her face was against his back, “I’m capable of running on my own.”
“My fear is that you will run in the wrong direction.” He replied.
She remained both silent and immobile as he raced down the main hall towards the door. Only after she felt him struggling with the exit did she attempt to climb down. He released her easily and she joined him tugging at the door.
“Frederick, it’s not budging at all.” Sinclair said.
“Someone must have fixed it from the other side.”
That was what she was afraid of. “I’m starting to feel that someone doesn’t want us to make it out of this house.”
“It would seem so, but I’m not going to let that stop us.” He looked around for something to help and his eye widened when he saw a shield with the Westmore family crest handing on the wall.
“Frederick, I can’t breathe,” she coughed, her chest growing tight.
“Just try to remain calm,” Frederick took the shield from the war, “I’ll get us out of here.”
He didn’t sound as certain of it as she would like.
“Don’t give up yet,” Frederick said, swinging the shield in his hand.
“I’ve never given up.” She said, trying to sound indignant.
She watched, leaning against the wall as he chipped away the wood of the door. The room was so hot, sweat soaked her body and face. Her hair clung to her neck, melting against her skin. Fast, shallow breathes were all she could manage, while her chest grew heavier.
“I’m making a hole so that we can get out of here,” she heard Frederick’s voice saying, “Someone put chains on the door outside. They didn’t want us leaving alive.”
Once again the sound of shattered wood was heard, along with Frederick’s labored breathing. Sinclair could feel herself sliding down against the wall onto the marble floor. Sighing she closed her eyes, which seemed to have grown heavier than she could hold open. When she wasn’t able to open them, Sinclair drifted into the hot darkness.
LUCAS WAS LOST, WANDERING the streets in the dark. After he’d left his home he didn’t know what else to do. Regardless of his threat, he could never go to Marissa. He despised that woman more now than ever. So now he stood in front of the duke’s home, waiting for the courage to knock on the door. He needed someone he could talk to and Davonport was the only man Lucas trusted enough to confide in.
“I’m surprised to see you, my boy,” the older gentleman remarked, after opening the door and joining Lucas on the steps., “I would think you’d be at home with your new wife.”
“That’s actually why I’m not at home.” Lucas tried to tell Davonport a shortened version of what happened that day. The words came out quickly because they tasted bitter to him.
“I must admit I’m a bit shocked myself,” Davonport said, taking a seat across from the earl, “I knew she had spirit but not enough for that.”
“She made a fool of me.”
“Nonsense, you are no more now then you were before you knew the truth. ” Davonport laughed, with the tone of full enjoyment. The duke found this all amusing. Lucas should have guessed he wouldn’t side against his own granddaughter.
“What kind of man allows his wife to beat him in business and doesn’t notice?” Lucas wondered out loud.
“A man in love, most likely.”
Lucas shook his head, refusing to believe such romantic notions. Society did not allow for such devotion. It wasn’t proper to love one’s wife to the point of indulgence. It would be a sign of weakness, something Lucas could not afford.
“I don’t understand why she would go so far with her ambition,” he said, staring at the glass of amber liquid.
“Haven’t you learned that Sinclair is not your usual woman?”
“No, she’s a stubborn American.”
“It has nothing to do with where she was born,” Davonport said, “It is just who she is.”
They both laughed then. Lucas began to lose the anger inside him. Replacing it was a feeling he didn’t quite recognize. Perhaps it was love.
“You enjoy the challenge,” Davonport patted Lucas on the shoulder, “That’s the fun of it. Just don’t forget that.”
“I fear I will owe her many apologies tomorrow,” he said, “Sadly my behavior tonight was abominable.”
“She’ll forgive you,” the older man responded, “Men were born to make mistakes and women were born to forgive us for them.”
“Then it will always be like this?”
“Those are the role we were born to play.”
That was something to think about as each of the men sat in the dark silence they smiled. Lucas was eager to go home and win back his wife’s heart. Hopefully she would forgive him easily, before he was forced to beg.
Their peace was abruptly ended when a loud noise was heard down the street. Someone ran frantically toward the duke’s house, their arms waving in the air. Squeezing his eyes together to gain better focus, Lucas was shocked to see that it was Charlotte.
“Charlotte, what are you doing out at this time of night?” he felt his heart beginning to race, “It’s not
safe.”
“I ran the entire two blocks.”
“Is something wrong?”
An unsettling feeling crept over him as he saw the frazzled look on his sister’s face. He had never seen her look anything but calm. Before she had a chance to answer another voice was heard coming down the sidewalk.
“Lord Westmore,” the voice called out, “Is that you?”
Lucas and the duke exchanged a worried glances. Lillith had come outside and joined Charlotte beside the stoop. When he reached the man he realized it was Frederick, with a large bundle in his arm. At first Lucas didn’t realize what the butler held, but then he saw her face.
“There was a fire,” the butler stammered, panic etched on his thin face, “She inhaled too much smoke. Now she’s barely breathing at all.”
Lucas rushed to take her in his arms. She felt like dead weight, not moving in his arms. Her pale face was calm and cool, like carved ice. The tightening in his chest was ignored as he strode to take her upstairs.
“Lucas, we have to wait for a doctor.” Charlotte followed close behind him.
“I’m going to make her more comfortable.” His voice sounded foreign to him. The sound of it was hollow and strained to his ears.
“Send Frederick in. I have many questions for him to answer.”
The weight of her body fell easily into the softness of her old bed as he laid her down among the pillows. Pulling away the thick blanket wrapped around her, he ran his hands along her body to be sure she was in one piece. Heat could barely be felt through the thin fabric of her nightgown. The room was silent for a moment as both men stared at her unconscious body
“How did this happen?” He whispered the words but they really didn’t need to be said. Frederick answered so quickly his words slid together. Lucas was barely able to follow the poor man as he rambled on.
“I found smoke coming under her door when I went to check on her before retiring,” he said, “Someone had started fires in each of the empty upstairs rooms. They threw burning bottles through the windows. I guess they didn’t want to be caught inside.”