Chapter Twenty
The smell of smoke struck Cassian before the sight of flames ever reached him.
His horse thundered down the last stretch of road toward the warehouse.
Orange embers still glowed against the early evening sky.
Men shouted orders, forming a desperate line from river to storehouse, passing bucket after bucket.
Cassian dismounted before the horse had fully stopped.
“What happened?” he demanded, striding toward the overseer.
The man, Mr. Turner, removed his cap with shaking hands. “Your Grace, the fire started inside. We… we believe it was lit on purpose.”
Cassian’s lungs turned to iron.
“Are you certain?” His voice remained composed, though his blood roared beneath the surface.
Turner nodded. “A barrel of oil was overturned. Someone meant for the blaze to spread. If the wind had shifted, the whole building and everything in it would’ve been lost.”
Cassian looked to the scorched wall, which now stood blackened and cracked, and forced back the rising fury.
Sabotage. First missing shipments. Now this.
“Double the watch. No one leaves until I’ve spoken to them,” he said. “If someone wishes to test my resolve, they will soon regret the attempt.”
Before Turner could answer, a carriage rattled up the road. Cassian turned, thinking that the last thing he needed now was more distraction, but his irritation vanished when he saw Charlotte. She stepped down from the carriage without waiting for assistance.
“Cassian!” she called, hurrying to him. “The servants said there was a fire. I came at once.”
“You should not be here,” he told her. She was bareheaded, breathless, and far too close to danger.
“And yet I am.” She planted herself before him. “Tell me what needs doing.”
“This is no place for—”
“For a duchess?” she cut in. “You forget I spent years in my brother’s warehouses and Lydia’s workrooms. I know how to salvage inventory, how to clear a corridor before it collapses, and how fast a cotton fire spreads. Now, either put me to use or step aside.”
His retort died on his tongue. Because she was right, and because he needed every capable hand. And because he felt something fierce and unmanageable twist in his chest at the sight of her so unafraid and choosing to stand in the fire with him.
He gave one curt nod. “Very well then. Take the men on the west side. The stored fabrics and ledgers will be in that corner. Save what you can before the smoke spoils it.”
Charlotte did not hesitate. She was already moving, issuing quick commands that Turner’s men obeyed without question.
Cassian watched as she organized them in a manner that was efficient and utterly focused.
The fire fought back, flaring through broken boards, but under Charlotte’s direction and Cassian’s orders, the workers formed a steady rhythm.
Buckets splashed. Goods were dragged to safety. Sparks died beneath wet canvas.
It took over an hour before the last of the flames surrendered.
When the smoke thinned, Cassian walked the perimeter, boots crunching over charred debris. Charlotte joined him, and he noticed a smudge of ash streaked across her cheek. He resisted the urge to wipe it gently with his thumb.
“It could have been far worse,” she said softly.
“Yes.” His gaze swept the wreckage. “Which is what concerns me. Someone meant to ruin us.”
Us.
The word slipped out before he could catch it.
Charlotte heard it. He saw it in the way her eyes softened, like light filtering through shutters.
She touched a scorched beam. “Do you think this is connected to the missing shipment you told me about?”
He exhaled. “Possibly. Whatever this is, it is no coincidence.”
Her chin lifted. “Then we face it together.”
Cassian turned toward her fully. For a moment, neither spoke. The night air hummed with what had not yet been said.
“You could have been hurt,” he murmured. “Running into danger like that.”
“You were in danger,” she replied simply, as though that were explanation enough.
That was when he gave in to the desire of a moment ago. He reached out, brushing his thumb across the streak of ash on her cheek. She stilled, patiently waiting, with that disarming smile on her face.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For helping, and for not turning away.”
Charlotte swallowed. “You do not always have to stand alone, Cassian.”
He held her gaze for one suspended heartbeat.
“I am beginning to see that.”
An hour had passed, and Cassian had just finished instructing Turner on the night watch when the sound of approaching hoofbeats drew his attention. A lone rider dismounted with an easy swing.
Gideon strode into the circle of lantern light, brushing soot from his sleeve.
“There you are,” he called. “Your butler nearly fainted when I demanded to know where his duke had vanished to. I followed the smoke the rest of the way.”
Cassian arched a brow. “Since when do you take evening rides for the sake of theatrics?”
“Since your household told me you were at a burning warehouse.” Gideon’s tone flattened. “Forgive me for assuming that required my presence.”
Despite the grim setting, Cassian felt the corner of his mouth twitch, which was the closest he came to a smile. Gideon noticed and shook his head.
“I leave you alone for one night, and everything catches fire,” he muttered. “Now tell me what in God’s name happened.”
Cassian briefed him on the oil and the deliberate placement. Gideon listened with arms crossed, his expression growing darker by the minute.
When Cassian finished, Gideon exhaled through his teeth. “So we are certainly dealing with sabotage. The question becomes: who profits from crippling your warehouses and shipments?”
“Competitors,” Cassian answered. “Political adversaries. Men who would prefer I stay silent in Parliament. Or” his jaw tightened, “someone with a more personal motive.”
Gideon glanced toward Charlotte, who stood a few paces away, speaking softly with two workers as they catalogued what goods might be salvaged. Soot marked her gown. Her hair had loosened from its pins. Yet she looked composed and steadier than half his men.
“Your duchess,” Gideon said under his breath, “is handling this better than most generals I know.”
Cassian did not deny it. “She saved a third of the stock,” he replied quietly. “And she kept the men from panicking. Without her, the loss would be twice as great.”
Gideon’s gaze slid back to him. “You say that as though it astonishes you.”
Cassian hesitated. “It does not astonish me,” he said at last. “But I… have long been unaccustomed to relying on another.”
Gideon’s expression softened with rare seriousness. “Then it is fortunate she gives you reason to reconsider.”
Before Cassian could respond, Charlotte returned to them, brushing ash from her sleeves.
“We’ve secured the remaining crates,” she reported. “Turner will send for carpenters in the morning, but some beams must come down before then, as they’re unstable. If we leave them, the whole wall may collapse.”
Cassian nodded. “Agreed. We will brace them until first light. Turner!” he called. “See to it.” Then, he turned to Charlotte. “What of the ledgers?”
“In my carriage,” she said. “I did not want the damp to ruin the ink.”
He met her gaze. “Good thinking. Thank you, Charlotte.”
She blinked, surprised by the simple praise, but pleased. He could see it.
Gideon cleared his throat. “Before I am entirely forgotten, perhaps we should consider where this leaves us.”
Cassian drew in a measured breath. “There are too many possibilities. I have rivals, yes, but none brazen enough to risk arson on my property. And yet, someone did. Someone either foolish… or desperate.”
“We tighten security,” Gideon said. “Double the guard. Move valuable stock to the manor’s storage until repairs are complete.”
Cassian nodded. Then, without thinking, he turned slightly toward Charlotte.
“Do you agree?”
A week ago, he would never have asked her opinion. He would have made decisions alone and expected obedience. Tonight, he found he wanted her voice in the matter.
Charlotte seemed to recognize the significance of the question. She answered carefully. “I agree with Lord Harrow. And I believe that your men must be paid extra for the night shifts. If someone is targeting you, fear will spread. Better to ensure loyalty before doubt takes root.”
Cassian considered, then inclined his head. “See to it, Gideon. Double pay, beginning tonight.”
Gideon’s brows rose. He was obviously impressed. “As you wish.”
By the time the last embers were stamped out and the beams reinforced, the moon had risen high over the warehouse. The men dispersed in weary clusters, soot-stained and exhausted, but steadier now that their duke and duchess had stood among them.
Cassian gave Turner a final instruction and shook Gideon’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”
Gideon smirked lightly. “What else are old friends for, if not rescuing you from flaming buildings and scandal?” His tone was wry, but his eyes were sharp. “I will return in the morning. Try not to let anything else explode before sunrise.”
Cassian allowed himself to smile as he watched Gideon mount his horse and ride into the night.
Charlotte approached him. “The men will rest easier now,” she said. “So should you.”
He studied her in the silver wash of moonlight, with her hair loose and wind-tangled and her gown smudged with ash. She had given orders, saved goods, soothed panic, and never once faltered. He was proud of her. Proud, and something else he dared not admit, even to himself.
“We should go home,” he said gently. “It has been a long night.”
She nodded. Together, they began the walk back to Duskbourne. The road was quiet, broken only by the distant sounds of crickets and the rustle of wind through the fields. After a time, Charlotte spoke.
“You believe this is only the beginning.”
He did not bother to deny it. “Yes.”
“Then we prepare,” she replied. “Together.”
That word landed with force he didn’t expect. But instead of being heavy around them, it nestled as if it always belonged there.