Chapter 13
B enedict paced in front of the white picket fence surrounding the Hawthorne property. Every breeze reminded him of his missing element; without the heat he felt overwhelmingly vulnerable. With all that had happened at the coven meeting, he wondered if he’d still be welcome here, but he hoped his sudden appearance would earn him an invitation. The last thing he wanted was to intrude on their evening. However, Lucinda hadn’t replied to his last several texts, and he was beginning to feel like some jilted ex rather than her fiancé.
He’d stopped by the library, where Rosie had told him Lucy had gone home to have dinner with the handsome professor who’d just arrived in town this morning. Hearing how helpful and polite this professor was had made Benedict want to flood the library. He couldn’t believe Lucinda would invite a stranger to Hawthorne House, yet ignore his calls.
Then again… Benedict paused with his hand on the gate, smiling to himself. Lucy had always loved strays. At school, he’d once discovered her trying to heal an injured fox in the seniors’ brewing room. All she’d managed to do was turn the poor creature green. A Hawthorne inept at healing was like a vampire without fangs, and seeing the tears in her eyes had been more than he could stand. In fact, seeing any woman cry made him uneasy; he suspected it was something to do with his mother’s grief for his father. But seeing Lucinda, who loved to smile and find the silver lining in every situation, in tears had caused an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. The only way to make her smile had been to help the fox, but he’d known she would never willingly accept his help. He’d tossed her a healer’s guide for animals and goaded her into trying it.
As he’d hoped, she couldn’t resist his challenge. At school the next morning, Benedict had spotted the fox picking at the school bins, healthy and restored to its normal self – as was Lucinda’s smiley nature.
He clenched his jaw, suspecting the new professor wasn’t going to be as easy to handle as the fox. Shaking away memories, he pulled off his suffocating tie, shoving it in his jacket pocket, and opened the gate. As he walked the cobble path dividing the overgrown garden, he couldn’t help but admire the colours. Beautiful, bold and a bit chaotic, like all Hawthorne women.
Sitting on the front porch was who he was looking for.
“Benedict! What a lovely surprise; we weren’t expecting you,” Grams Hawthorne said, a thick blanket wrapped over her rounded shoulders. Her creased smile reached her eyes, the same as Lucinda’s. He put on his most charming smile.
“Excuse my intrusion. I wanted to stop by and say I’m sorry for the other night at the coven meeting. How Gwendoline approached the situation…” Benedict fumbled through his excuse. “Anyway, I wanted to drop off some new herbal teas made from the Manor Gardens. Mum said she forgot to give them to Wilhelmina at the meeting.” Hopefully the gesture would help mend some fences and ensure his invitation to dinner. Grams was the last person he wanted to upset.
“No need for you to be apologising. You had nothing to do with the scheme, and you’re always welcome here.” Grams winked, putting him at ease, rocking gently back and forth on the chair. “As much as you tease each other, I know there’s a good heart beneath that shirt, and you’d never hurt Lucinda.”
Her faith in him never failed to surprise him. He’d never forgotten her kindness when he’d lost his brother. Gwendoline had ordered him not to cry during the funeral. However, after the service, when everyone had left the cemetery, Grams had let him sob on her shoulder until there were no tears left. He realised that was probably the last day he’d cried.
Grams watched him peer in the window behind her.He wanted to meet the stranger lingering around his intended.
“Are you sure that’s the only reason you stopped by?” She smiled knowingly, exposing the deep smile lines around her lips.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, handing her the tea before they were interrupted.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a terrible liar, Benedict.”
His smile flattened. He wondered if she could sense the Hawthorne element within him.
“Mum, what are you doing out here? I thought you were preparing the dessert?” Wilhelmina said, popping her head out of the mint-green shutter.
“The dessert is in the fridge, and it would’ve been terribly rude not to welcome our guest,” Grams said, winking at Benedict – who went unnoticed, due to the angle of the window.
“Our company is sitting at our dinner table, waiting for tiramisu. Come inside, and don’t even think about smoking your pipe. Doctor’s orders!” Wilhelmina added, wrapping her eye-searingly colourful shawl around her shoulders. Benedict had never understood the Hawthorne obsession with colour; a rainbow would find these women intimidating.
“I wasn’t smoking my pipe, and I wasn’t talking about the new professor,” Grams said.
Wilhelmina opened the front door and was visibly taken aback when Benedict greeted her with a nervous smile.
Sorry for intruding. I wanted…” He didn’t get a chance to finish his lame excuse.
“That was kind of you, but we’ve got company.” Wilhelmina’s welcome was far cooler than her mother’s. Benedict didn’t doubt she suspected him of scheming for her daughter’s position. He didn’t even know how the High Priestess would react if she knew her daughter’s element ran through his veins because of the spell she’d cast. He wanted to be angry about the hypocrisy, but any spike in mood might cause another inexplicable storm.
“I know it’s very late in the evening, but I felt I had to stop by and apologise for the other night. No matter what happens between me and Lucinda I only want the best for the coven,” he said, stepping up onto the porch.
Wilhelmina, usually all light and warmth, studied him for a moment longer than was comfortable.
“I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt Lucinda or your family,” Benedict added. He hated sounding so vulnerable, but he needed them to see he could still be trusted. If he and Lucinda were to solve their element situation, he couldn’t have her family blocking his path to her.
Wilhelmina’s expression softened.“There’s no need to apologise. I only hope things work out – not only for the coven, but for my daughter and you.”
“You don’t need to worry,” Grams jumped in. “Everything will work out as it should.” She winked again.
Benedict swallowed. He knew exactly what they were up to to ensure it did. He only wished they truly believed in his good intentions. If they did, they never would have cast such a spell to keep him and Lucinda apart. I suppose I can’t blame them for wanting to protect their own.
“He even brought the teas you were looking for from the manor.” Grams handed the paper bag full of teas to Wilhelmina, who quickly accepted.
“Thank you, they work wonders for my digestion!” Wilhemia beamed, though she didn’t follow up with an invitation to join them as Benedict had hoped. Instead she glanced inside, as though concerned about something, which only piqued his interest about the stranger at their table. “Have a good evening.”
The High Priestess headed back inside, and Grams rose from her chair. Benedict set his jaw. The best way to get to Lucinda’s heart and Wilhelmina’s table was to get Grams on his side.
“On my way over, I popped into Myrtle’s Herb Shop. The rare waterworm root you were looking for last month came in.” He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small glass jar, exposing the golden root within. “I thought I’d save you the trip.”
“Are you trying to bribe your way into this house?” Grams whispered, accepting the jar.
“Is it working?” Benedict offered her his arm and cheekiest grin.
Tiny Grams slapped him on the back with the force of a woman who’d worked for the benefit of others for her whole life. “Come inside. There’s plenty of dessert to go around.”
She shoved him through to the dark purple dining room before disappearing into the kitchen. Benedict found Lucinda alone; the dinner table had already been cleared, and she was laying out dessert bowls. He noticed the fire in the corner of the room. He wondered if she had used his element to light it. He met Lucinda’s gaze. She rolled her eyes as though reading his mind. The thought of her using his magic stirred something unexpected in him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Hi to you too. Grams kindly invited me for dessert.”
Lucinda’s eyes narrowed.“What did you bribe her with?”
“How well you know me,” he quipped, but his smile faded when a man in a cream jumper entered the dining room, the sides of his floppy fringe hanging over the rims of his glasses. He didn’t need to guess that this was the professor, though he was far younger than expected. Benedict had assumed Rosie was just trying to wind him up, and hoped to find a balding middle-aged man who lacked any form of social etiquette. This one was young, put-together, had an aura of aristocracy about him…
“And this is?” Benedict asked, staring down the man standing a little too close to Lucinda.
“Emerson Hughes.” Emerson extended his hand, which Benedict would’ve accepted had the professor not continued. “The Order sent me to collect some work Lucinda has done for us.”
Benedict’s jaw clenched. Though he preferred to focus on the future, anyone with his lineage wouldn’t want to look back either. However, Lucinda’s pleading eyes forced him to take the man’s hand.
“Benedict Matherson,” he ground out, and shook the man’s hand before taking the empty seat beside Lucinda. She glared at him, but there was no way he was letting an Order member get so close to her. Wait. Why am I getting all protective of her? It must be her element.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m staying in your hotel, or manor, I should say,” Emerson took the seat across from him. A few inches further away from Lucinda, but still not far enough for Benedict’s liking.
“I hope you have a pleasant stay.” He forced himself to be civil; the man was a paying guest after all. Also, upsetting Lucinda could result in the room burning down around them. He didn’t like that she was letting a member of the Order who had hunted their kind for generations eat at her table, let alone see the vault, one of their most sacred places. She’d never extended him any such invitation. Lucinda would never let him assist her– unless under the influence of a mysterious tea.
He wasn’t jealous, he told himself, and yet when Emerson smiled thankfully at his intended when she offered him a dessert spoon, Benedict felt the wash of her element threatening to spill out.
“I’m sure I will,” Emerson answered him. “The place is exquisitely restored. The Victorian mouldings are so tastefully maintained. The porcelain statues, the teardrop chandeliers– I never thought I would get to see the inside of a Matherson Manor.”
The flattery came with ease, but Benedict wasn’t sure how genuine it was. A little temper test wouldn’t hurt. “Probably because there aren’t many Mathersons left, thanks to the Order that sent you.”
Emerson’s face fell, but to his credit, he recovered his polite smile quickly.
Lucinda silently scolded Benedict. He cleared his throat, wishing Grams and Wilhelmina would join them so he wouldn’t have to suffer through more pleasantries.
“How do you two know each other?” Emerson asked, breaking the tension.
“Old family fri—” Lucinda started.
“She’s my fiancée,” Benedict announced.
Lucinda choked on her wine.
“You shouldn’t be drinking. It might make the fire worse,” he whispered in her ear, passing her an empty glass. When it touched her hand, it was filled with water. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for using her element without causing a mess.
“I won’t survive this conversation without it, and I’m managing fine,” she hissed, swapping the water for wine. “Stop using my element!”
Emerson glanced at Lucinda, as though waiting for her to confirm whether or not they were to be married.
Don’t even think about it. She’s mine. Always has been, and always will be. Benedict’s possessive thoughts startled him.
“I didn’t know you were engaged. Congratulations,” Emerson said.
“It’s c-complicated,” Lucinda stuttered, her eyes darting between the two men as though she didn’t know where to begin.
“What relationship isn’t?” Benedict said cheerfully before she could keep going, though he doubted she’d explain the exact workings of their engagement to a stranger.
“Lucy, could you help me with the dessert for a moment?” Wilhelmina called from the kitchen down the hall.
“Don’t antagonise him,” Lucinda whispered, placing her napkin on the table. Benedict rubbed his jaw to conceal a smirk as he watched her leave.
“I hear you’ve accepted the vacant position at the university,” he said. “I’m surprised your Order would allow you to settle in a sanctuary town.”Even the mention of the Order made him wince, but he wasn’t going to let Emerson see that. The university had been looking for someone to replace the Classical and Mythical Studies spot since the last professor had decided to study dragon remains in some undisclosed location. The head of the University often visited the Manor spa with his wife, and Benedict hadn’t heard the dean had approved anyone until Rosie mentioned it.
“I’ve been working in Darworth University. Lucinda’s father gave my CV to the university board. My work with the Order required moving quite often, but I want to settle somewhere, put down some roots,” Emerson said. “When Lucinda’s father told me about the opening, I didn’t hesitate.”
“I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look rather young for such a position.” Benedict was surprised he’d worked with Mr Hawthorne, never mind having his approval. At least now it made sense how he’d got past the hiring committee.
Emerson sipped his wine, and Benedict wondered if his patience was beginning to thin. “I’ve done the work, and I’ll be thirty-two this year. All those years in libraries and out of the sun kept me youthful. I’m sure you get the same assumed about you, considering you run such a successful business.”
“I didn’t have a choice after my father passed,” Benedict said tightly.
Emerson stilled, realising his mistake. It was the Order that had taken his father’s life as punishment for a spell gone wrong. Would Emerson report those at this very table for the same sin if he knew about the elemental mishap?
“I didn’t mean…” the professor started.
“Foxford is a special place. I understand why you’d want to stay here. The people are trusting and kind, and we look out for each other,” Benedict cut in, drinking from Lucinda’s wine glass. “But if that trust is broken, and anyone tries to harm our sanctuary… I’m afraid little mercy is shown.” His words were laced with threat.
“I understand you want to protect your town,” Emerson began, but Benedict’s laughter cut him off again.
“The town itself can burn.” He leant forward, pointing to the door. “But the women in the next room mean a great deal to me. If anything happens to them, or anyone brings them any trouble, then no sanctuary in this world or the next can help them.”
Emerson took another drink, no doubt considering his reply carefully. A veiled threat directed at an Order member could get Benedict in a lot of trouble, but he didn’t care. Not when it came to protecting those he cared about. He couldn’t protect his dad, his brother, but he would sure as hell protect the Hawthornes.
“They’re lucky to have someone who cares for their safety more than their own,” Emerson said at last, and Benedict mentally shook hands with him – begrudgingly. “I can assure you that I mean them no harm.”
“Sorry for keeping you waiting – the dessert was a little on the frozen side,” Wilhelmina interrupted, carrying in a dish filled with perfectly layered tiramisu.
“Benedict was telling me about the town, and I was congratulating him on his engagement,” Emerson said, watching Wilhelmina cut into the dessert at the head of the table.
“Yes, it’s certainly a special occasion.” Grams smiled, taking a seat beside Emerson.
“Are you going to be helping out at the library? I saw you earlier with Rosie,” Benedict said.
“I didn’t know you had so much time on your hands, to be watching others,” Lucinda muttered, serving everyone.
Playing his role as doting son-in-law perfectly under Lucinda’s glare, Benedict offered Wilhelmina more cream from the side dish. “I was leaving a meeting about the Autumn Festival– a meeting you failed to attend – when I saw Rosie, and I didn’t know who she was with at the time.”
“There was a meeting about the festival?” Lucinda frowned, her spoon stilling.
“Maybe if you’d answered your phone, you wouldn’t have missed it.” Clearly, from her guilty expression, she’d been ignoring his calls on purpose.“Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty more, assuming you wish to attend the next one.” He hoped she would; dealing with Mrs Crawford and Mr Lark arguing about what bunting to use through the town was more than he could stomach alone.
“I’ll be there, don’t worry,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Sorry, you were interrupted. You were telling us about your assisting at the library?” Benedict said to Emerson, taking a bite of the delicious dessert. It was so creamy, offset with dark chocolate and coffee, that it almost made sitting at a table across from an Order member bearable.
“I don’t start at the university until the current exams end on the fourteenth, and with Lucinda finishing up her work on a grimoire the Order gifted Foxford for the summer. I figured I’d come early and settle in before returning the grimoire to Rome,” Emerson explained.
Benedict saw red. “I wasn’t aware you could ‘gift’ what was stolen in the first place,” he snapped.
Lucinda placed a reassuring hand on his clenched fist, and he was so surprised by her kind touch that he released it.
“I apologise for my choice of words,” Emerson said awkwardly. He hadn’t touched his dessert. “History between the Order and your people has been rather unpleasant, but I think we’ve come a long way.”
“Easy for you to say. You weren’t the ones hunted down and slaughtered. It’s our people that must appease yours even now!”
Benedict could feel Lucinda pleading with him to stop, but he couldn’t. This man belonged to the very Order who’d hunted, maimed, and killed his ancestors, his father, because of a spell gone wrong. Now they were sharing a meal in the very house of those they’d stolen from. A lesser man would have leapt across the table and drowned him in his wine. Benedict’s ancestors would have done far worse.
“There were lives lost on both sides,” Emerson growled, adding to the chewable tension.
Both men stood. I knew there was more to him than his scholarly act.
“Gentlemen, please,” Grams snapped. “This is not the discussion to have over dinner. “Emerson is a guest and has a job to do. He isn’t here to cause any harm.”
Lucinda gripped Benedict’s hand, and the waves of rage within him began to dissipate.
“Please, let’s forget this conversation and calm down,” she ground out.
He grimaced as his palm sizzled. Her fiery touch had its desired effect, distracting him from their guest.
Pretending to kiss her cheek, Benedict whispered, “Don’t use my fire against me,” against her skin.
“Then play nice,” she hissed, releasing his hand.
“Lucinda is right. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me. I apologise for my hostility,” Benedict said, sitting down. He needed Lucinda to see that he was willing to work with her, even if his simmering rage bordered on boiling.
“I’m sorry for my outburst as well; this is not how I wished to start our friendship,” Emerson said, taking his own seat. “I understand my being here is a shock to you, but I must tell you that I’m of healer descent myself. My lineage has also suffered at the hands of the Order, but I truly wish for both sides to work together for the greater good – as hard as it may be.”
Taken aback by Emerson’s confession, Benedict found himself unable to eat, too busy trying to digest the idea of an Order member with magical ancestry.
“And you joined the order?” He couldn’t help laughing. “You’re far bolder than I gave you credit.” He might even be a worthy contact to have, so long as he wasn’t using his supposed ancestry to manipulate their trust.
“If you can’t beat the enemy, why not join them?” Emerson smiled, resting his elbows on the table. “There are many of us who wish to… not forget, but move on from the past and bring the Order into a new age. You need fear nothing from me. I’m no spy, and I hope I can gain your trust in time.”
“I can’t slight you for that,” Benedict conceded. Emerson had to have some serious balls to walk into the vipers’ nest for the sake of his ideals.
“You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone,” Lucinda said to Emerson. Benedict couldn’t believe she was defending the professor. “Especially not to him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The Mathersons can hardly claim superiority; they’ve had their equal taste in blood.”
“That’s enough, Lucy,” Wilhelmina snapped, resting her hands on the table.
Grams ate another mouthful of tiramisu, eyes flicking from Benedict to Emerson with evident enjoyment. Lucinda ignored her mum, keeping her attention fixed on him.
“She’s right. My family have many sins to repent for. Not all families can be as Good as the Hawthornes,” Benedict said, not caring to let Lucinda see how much her words had cut him.
Wilhelmina turned her attention to Emerson, and Benedict leaned in close to Lucinda. “Though I think you’re being a little hypocritical,” he added, glancing pointedly at the fire roaring behind them.
“I warned you not to antagonise him! This is my work you’re threatening with your dick-measuring contest!” she hissed back. For a moment he thought she might pick up her dessert and throw it at him.
“Are you sure you two are engaged?” Emerson half-joked.
“Yes.”
“No.”
Their replies came at the same time. Still glaring at each other, neither were willing to be the first to break away.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry,” Benedict said suddenly, pulling Lucinda close and kissing her cheek for real this time. He didn’t know what had come over him, but when he leaned back he could still feel the warmth of her skin against his lips.
To his delight, Lucinda blushed. “Benedict, why do you have to be such a—” she started, but Grams interrupted.
“Lucy, will you give me a hand clearing the dishes? I think we’ve all had enough for one evening.”
Benedict sensed the old woman wasn’t talking about the dessert.
“Happily,” Lucinda bit out, nudging him away. He didn’t even attempt to hide his smile. Even if she was angry at him, Emerson was no longer her main focus.
“Let me give you a hand cleaning up,” the professor offered as Wilhelmina reached for his plate. “No, I won’t hear of it. Benedict will help,” Wilhelmina smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Benedict evidently wasn’t the only one eager for him to leave the table.
“She’s right. You’re a guest – you shouldn’t have to lift a finger,” Benedict said, taking the plates from Wilhelmina. Clearly, the High Priestess wasn’t going to let the two of them be alone in the same room together. If every inch of him hated the order Emerson belonged to, he hated the thought of him getting close to Lucinda and the Hawthornes even more.
Hearing hushed voices within, Benedict lingered by the kitchen door, plates piled in his hands. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t resist once he heard his name.
“I think Benedict has feelings for you,” Grams was teasing.
His chest tightened as he waited for Lucinda to respond.
“Don’t be ridiculous. The only thing he feels for me is disdain.”
Only when you bring strangers to your house! He heard what sounded like a cupboard opening.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. He looked at Emerson like he was going to steal you away,” Grams said. “He came here of his own volition. When has he ever simply dropped by?”
Lucinda sighed. “None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t cast that damn spell.”
Benedict’s ears perked up. He was eager to hear if she’d told him the truth, but the sound of running water quietened their voices and he was forced to move in closer.
“What if the spell did something to him that made him act like this? There’s no way to know what’s true. Anyway, he’s just trying to make sure he doesn’t lose his chance to take my seat as head of the coven. His heart has nothing to do with his motives for being here.”
“A spell or potion can’t fabricate love, nor force anyone to feel or act a certain way. We acted for your own good. Was it rash and in hindsight a terrible decision? Yes, but it’s done now, and you need to keep your eyes and heart open,” Grams said.
The tension in Benedict’s shoulders eased at the knowledge that Lucinda truly hadn’t had any part in causing their elemental switch.
“What about this new professor, then? He seems to have a kind spirit, loves books and history, and works at the university. You both have plenty in common – and he turns up the day after the spell is cast. That’s a lot of coincidences!”
Grams’s list did nothing to ease Benedict’s irritation towards Emerson. It seemed she thought, and maybe Wilhelmina did too, that the spell had called Emerson here. I can’t believe they’d prefer to see Lucinda with a member of the order than with me. He wanted to interrupt before Grams could convince her further, but he also wanted to hear Lucinda’s reply.
“Love should be about more than common interests, and Emerson is here for work . The Order told Rosie they’d be sending someone days ago; he didn’t come here on a whim. He volunteered to collect the grimoire and because he is going to be working at the university,” Lucinda stated firmly.
“Even so, no harm in getting to know him. The spell might have brought Emerson to you. He made it past the gargoyles and the armoured knights, which tells us he has a true heart. And he’s of magical descent – a healer at that!”
Grams! Whose side are you on?!
Lucinda made no instant reply. Waiting for her response, Benedict forgot to breathe. The previously empty jug in his hand started to overflow as he lost control of her element. He put it on one of the bowls to stop it soaking the wooden floors.
“I can’t get to know him, Grams. I agreed to the binding. What would the town say if I’m with one man while about to be bound to another? I’m trying to win over the coven’s confidence; a love triangle won’t play in my favour.”
Grams laughed. “A love triangle? Perhaps it’s you who has feelings for Benedict. I suppose you’ve known each other since you were kids…”
“Benedict and I are a political match. Can we please not talk about this when both men are in the next room?”
“I won’t push you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. I only ask that you don’t close yourself off. Let your element guide you,” Grams said, her words slightly muffled. Benedict guessed they were hugging.
She only has my fire to guide her, Benedict thought. He was grateful that Lucinda had kept their switch a secret, even when mentioning it could have stopped Grams’s pestering. Such information would’ve sent her family into a tailspin. To discover their beloved pure water was in the corrupted veins of a Matherson– he couldn’t imagine the uproar. Even if they’d treated him and his mum as family, magic ran thicker than friendship.
“The last of the dishes,” he announced, pushing open the door, unable to take another second of Grams convincing Lucinda to give Emerson a chance. A member of the Order, bonded to a High Priestess? The heavens would burn, and hell would freeze over . Regardless of biblical consequences, there was no way he’d allow her heart to be won by another. Not before he had a chance to claim it for his own.
Pausing, he told himself to get a grip. Her heart was none of his concern. She might be his fiancée, but as she’d said herself, they were a political match, nothing more.
“Thank you for your help.” Grams took the dishes.
Benedict wanted to talk to Lucinda, but she fled without a second look. He wished she’d stop avoiding him.
Grams rested a hand on his arm. “If you want her trust– her heart – I’m afraid you’re going to have to earn it.”
Peter had said something similar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Benedict lied, helping her load the dishwasher.
Grams rolled her eyes. He decided to leave before he overstayed his welcome.
“I’ll say my goodbyes,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Thank Wilhelmina for dessert for me, and tell Lucinda there’s another meeting for the festival tomorrow morning.”
Grams shooed him from the kitchen.
Outside, he pulled at the collar on his long coat. His feet refused to move; he couldn’t leave without talking to Lucinda. He knew how dangerous it was to sleep with fire magic when you were riled up – one bad dream might burn down the house. He didn’t know why he cared all of a sudden. Then again, he didn’t want to be accused if Hawthorne House went up in flames the same night he’d come for dinner.
Benedict rounded the house, spotting a tall oak tree which gave him access to her balcony. He looked down at his leather shoes and sighed. Not exactly the best for climbing, he thought, plucking up the nerve to reach for the first branch. She’d better not set me on fire for trying to help her.