Chapter 20 #3
"Learn," Lucien said, not unkindly. "Matilda's dead, Cassandra. Let her rest. Let us all rest."
"You won't tell anyone? About the fire?"
"Not if you disappear. Completely. No letters, no 'chance' meetings, no schemes. You vanish from our lives forever."
"And if I don't?"
"Then everyone will know the truth."
She stood slowly, gathering the remnants of her dignity. "I did love you once."
"I know that you loved the idea of me."
"Does that count for anything?"
"It counts for goodbye."
She left without another word, her black silk trailing behind her like shadow.
"Well," Julian said after a moment. "That was bracing."
"That was exhausting," Arabella corrected, sinking into a chair.
"Are you all right?" Lucien asked immediately, kneeling beside her.
“Fine.”
They all looked at the dog, who had somehow procured a silk cushion from somewhere and was methodically destroying it.
"Where did he get that?" Lucien asked.
"Better question," Julian said. "Is it Cassandra's?"
"Probably."
"Good dog."
"Don't encourage him," Lucien said automatically.
"Why not? He has excellent taste in victims."
***
They spent the night at a nearby inn, none of them wanting to stay at the estate with its ghosts and memories. Arabella was sick twice more, the stress and travel catching up with her.
"We should see a physician," Lucien fretted.
"I'm fine. It's just been an eventful day."
"Eventful? We solved a two-year mystery, exposed a blackmail scheme, and banished my former betrothed."
"See? Eventful."
"You're impossible."
They were interrupted by Julian bursting through the door without knocking.
"We have a problem."
"What now?" Lucien groaned.
"Harrington's gone."
"Good."
"No, gone as in disappeared with several valuable items from the estate."
"What?"
"The magistrate just sent word. Paintings, silver, anything portable."
"That scoundrel."
"There's more."
"Of course there is."
"He left a note."
Julian handed over a piece of paper. Lucien read it, his face darkening.
"What does it say?" Arabella asked.
"'You took everything from me. I'll return the favour. Enjoy your happiness while it lasts.'"
"That sounds like a threat."
"That sounds like a promise," Julian corrected grimly.
"We should go home," Arabella said. "Now."
"It's late."
"Now, Lucien. Something's wrong."
"You can't know that."
"I can feel it."
"That's the pregnancy talking."
"That's instinct. We need to go home."
Lucien looked at her pale, determined face and nodded. "We leave within the hour."
The journey back was tense, everyone on edge. Even Thistle seemed subdued, staying close to Arabella as if sensing danger.
They made good time to Calais, caught the morning packet, and were back in Dover by evening. But instead of stopping for the night, Arabella insisted they continue.
"You're exhausted," Lucien protested.
"I'm worried."
"About what?"
"I don't know. That's what worries me."
They drove through the night, changing horses at every posting inn, pushing hard despite exhaustion. As dawn broke, they finally saw Blackthorn Manor in the distance.
It looked peaceful, normal, safe.
"See?" Lucien said. "Everything's fine."
But Arabella was already pointing at the stables, where smoke was rising. "Fire!"
They raced the final distance, arriving to find the household in chaos. The stable fire had been contained, but barely.
"What happened?" Lucien demanded.
"We don't know, my Lord," Mrs. Fielding said, looking shaken. "It started in the night. If young Tom hadn't been up with a sick horse..."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"No, my Lord. But..."
"But what?"
"We found this."
She handed him a piece of paper, singed at the edges. Two words: "Just beginning."
"Harrington," Julian said grimly.
"He's here?" Arabella asked.
"Or has someone here been working for him."
"Either way," Lucien said, pulling Arabella close, "he's made a mistake."
"How?"
"He's threatened my family on my land. That's declaration of war."
"What do we do?"
"We protect what's ours."
"How very beastly of you," Arabella said, trying for lightness.
"The beast protects his beauty," Lucien agreed.
"And the beauty protects her beast."
"Together?"
"Always together."
They stood looking at the smoking stables, arms around each other, while somewhere in the shadows, danger waited for its next opportunity.
But they'd face it as they faced everything—together, with humor, with love, and with a criminal dog who was already investigating the scene with suspicious efficiency.
"Did Thistle just find something?" Julian asked.
They looked to see the dog dragging what appeared to be a scorched piece of coat.
"Good boy," Lucien said, surprising everyone, including himself.
"You praised the dog," Arabella said wonderingly.
"He's family. Family gets praise."
"Even criminal family?"
"Especially criminal family. They're the most useful in times like these."
"Times like these?"
"War," Lucien said simply. "Someone's declared war on us. Time to show them why that was a mistake."
"Together?" Arabella asked.
"Together," he confirmed.
And somewhere in the morning shadows, they all could have sworn they heard bitter laughter on the wind.