Chapter 25
Dressed in a borrowed gown and comfortably seated in a cushiony armchair, with a blanket over her lap, Samantha sipped the tea she’d been served.
Edward had invited her and Adrian to stay with him and Melody for as long as necessary.
When Adrian tried to argue, suggesting they could easily lodge at Mivart’s, Edward insisted.
For which Samantha was glad.
She preferred the comfort of an actual home over impersonal rooms at the hotel.
Recovering from her most recent ordeal would likely be easier with Edward’s servants fussing over her.
Slabs of meat to alleviate the bruising on the right side of her face and torso had promptly been produced upon her arrival.
A cool bath containing sodium bicarbonate was also provided for her hands and feet.
Even though the damage to these extremities was nowhere near as bad as she’d feared it would be, with no signs of blistering, she’d still spent a good half hour soaking them just in case.
An aloe vera ointment was applied immediately afterward, a light gauze added to trap the ointment against the skin.
It was hard to imagine being so well cared for at Mivart’s.
Plus, being here allowed her a rare opportunity to spend time with Melody in a way she’d not done in years. Not since Melody left Clearview House to become Lady Heathbrooke’s companion.
“I wish I could have helped you,” Melody said from the adjacent armchair.
Samantha had picked this spot when they’d entered the parlor. The small seating arrangement sat at the opposite end of the room from the open fireplace.
Another sip of tea kept her attention away from the flames. Heat was needed despite summer’s approach, especially at night, but watching the fire made her feel like she was back on the roof of her house.
She wondered if she would ever be able to light a flint again.
“It happened so fast.” There had been no time to call for assistance, even if Edward would have allowed his wife to do her part. Which Samantha was certain he wouldn’t have. “Adrian says it was Finn O’Leary’s doing, which means a propellant was probably used.”
Poor Susie. Samantha closed her eyes briefly, anger mingling with grief. She would visit the young woman’s family herself first thing in the morning and deliver the tragic news.
“That bastard needs to be done away with,” Melody said, eyes glowing.
“I couldn’t agree with you more. The problem, of course, is locating him. Adrian has tried. It’s my understanding Kendrick has too, but neither of them has had any luck with it yet.”
Her greatest fear now was what happened next. O’Leary wanted Adrian dead. Her too, most likely. And that put Alexandra at increased risk. Good lord, the Irish devil hadn’t spared her a thought when he’d set Croft House on fire.
She glanced down at her daughter, who slept in a make-shift crib on the floor — a high sided wooden crate filled with blankets. Endless love spread through her heart, filling it to the point of bursting. More so when Alexandra made a soft snoring sound in her sleep.
“Let me know if you learn something,” Melody said. “I’ve still got my daggers. Wouldn’t mind putting them to good use one last time.”
Samantha responded with the closest thing to a smile she could manage.
It was nearing three in the morning and she was exhausted.
The only reason she’d not yet retired was because she waited for Adrian, who was having a drink with Edward in the study.
The two men had been busy finding beds for the Croft House staff, many of whom were now spread across several inns.
“Let’s discuss something else,” Samantha said. She was honestly sick of replaying what had occurred – how wrong it had gone – whether or not she might have saved Susie in some other way. If only she’d acted differently.
“How are you finding married life these days?”
A soft smile crept into place on Melody’s lips. “Wonderful.”
“Then you and Edward have worked through your differences?” A relief that made Samantha extraordinarily happy.
“We talked while you were in the hospital giving birth to Alexandra. Afterward, actually.” She produced a small shrug.
A wistful laugh followed. “Our emotions were raw that day.
We were both so afraid for you, and I think that put our own disagreement into perspective.
Edward realized how distraught he would be had I been the one fighting for my life.
I, on the other hand, deeply regretted not overcoming my pride and just telling him that I love him.
“Somehow, the skills Harlowe taught me made me feel invincible. No matter the danger, I always believed I’d survive. But then you nearly died and… Well, it occurred to me how important it is to say what matters to those we care about while we still have the chance.”
“It certainly is,” Samantha agreed. She set aside her teacup and extended her bandaged hand to Melody, who instantly took it. “I trust this means you’re happy?”
“Yes. I still have work to do, in terms of earning Edward’s trust, so I tell him everything now at the end of each day. No more secrets or reasons for him to wonder if I might be keeping any.”
Samantha nodded. She’d taken the same approach with Adrian after everything fell apart between them.
It had taken time for him to trust her again, but her decision to be completely transparent had accelerated the process.
He knew the risk she’d taken in sharing confidential information about the Nightingale Project with him.
And then of course, it helped that she’d had the chance to save his life.
Meeting Melody’s gaze she said, “If the opportunity presents itself, go through hell for him.”
“As you did for Adrian, when you helped him escape the gallows?”
“Exactly.” The endeavor could easily have landed her in prison or gotten her killed. At the time, success had seemed like a distant dream, yet she’d persevered, rallied his men and done the impossible. Out of love.
Adrian knew this. While making him privy to every secret she’d ever harbored had already helped mend the rift between them, it was her willingness to do everything she could in order to save him that truly won back his heart.
* * *
Considering the late hour at which he’d retired, Adrian was surprised to wake before seven the following day. Four hours of sleep was all he’d managed, if that.
Allowing himself a moment to come more fully awake, he rolled onto his side and looked at Samantha. Her features were still slightly muted in the early morning light. His chest expanded to allow for a deep breath of air.
Thank God she was here, lying beside him.
Reaching over, he gently brushed aside a few strands of her hair, simply to touch her. A painful knot formed in his throat. It could easily have ended differently last night. Had the wall on which she’d been running collapsed any sooner than it did, he would now be alone in this bed.
His heart contracted on that thought, and he shoved himself out from under the sheets. Time to move — to not think of what-ifs and dreadful alternate scenarios.
As expected, he was the first to enter the dining room. Breakfast wasn’t even ready quite yet, though the coffee he ordered was quickly produced. The paper arrived about ten minutes later, the headline bearing no mention of the fire.
Unsurprising, since all the newspapers would have already gone to print by the time they learned of the incident. It would probably be in tomorrow’s papers instead.
“Sleep well?” Edward asked when he showed up nearly an hour later.
Adrian had already finished polishing off a big plate filled with eggs, sausages, and toast by then.
“As well as one might expect after a trauma.” He refilled his coffee cup for the third time and prepared to keep Edward company while he ate. “No fault of yours, I can assure you. The room and bed you’ve provided are exceptionally comfortable.”
“Glad to hear it.” Edward took his seat. “You’re naturally welcome to stay as long as you wish. There’s no rush to leave.”
“Thank you, but you and Melody are still newlywed and in need of spending time alone together, without having to entertain guests.”
“You’re no ordinary guests,” Edward said, pouring himself some tea. “You’re family, and family is never an inconvenience.”
Adrian wondered if Edward knew how much his words meant. After their most recent rift, which had felt like a vast expanse of frozen tundra wedged between them, it pleased him more than he could express to be counted as family.
“Nevertheless, I intend to visit an acquaintance of mine at some point this morning. Murdoch’s his name — has a lot of connections in the service industry.
I’ll ask him to put together a list of Mayfair houses available either for rent or purchase.
First, however, I’d like to take a look at the damage at Number 5. ”
“I’ll accompany you,” Edward said, not leaving the matter up for dispute.
“There’s also the insurance company with whom I really should meet as soon as possible. Perhaps after luncheon.”
“What about the relatives of the maid who died?” Edward asked, his voice appropriately somber.
“Samantha says she’d like to deliver the tragic news herself. Maybe Melody can accompany her?”
“Of course.” Edward started eating the food he’d piled onto his plate — a similar selection to what Adrian had enjoyed, but with kippers instead of sausages. “I trust you’ll add compensation and offer to pay for the funeral?”
“Yes.” No amount of money would replace Susie, but it would, he hoped, help her family cope.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steer his thoughts elsewhere — away from the guilt that gnawed at his conscience. If only he’d had the forethought to have ladders installed outside every window. He’d do so at his next residence. And at Deerhaven Manor, too. Just in case.
“A caller has arrived,” Edward’s butler announced upon entering the room. The man’s eyes slid to Adrian. “He wishes to speak with you, sir. Introduced himself as Mr. Harlowe.”
* * *