Page 59 of Unmasking the Earl

Her pronouncement sounded so brave, and yet so forlorn, Ned’s heart broke into even smaller pieces.

“We can decide the best course of action later,” he said. He was still too dangerously angry at Wycherley to discuss any potential marriage rationally. “Right now, I want to hear what happened on the night of the fire. I shall endeavor not to judge you.”

Georgiana nodded and then thought back for a quiet moment, looking pained.

“Francis and I met for the first time at the library,” she murmured. “We were both leafing through books of Byron’s poetry. There was an instant attraction which neither of us could deny, and as the days passed, we liked nothing better than inventing schemes so we could be alone together. I know it was very wrong of us, but love makes people do foolish things.”

It did, indeed, thought Ned. And just look at the consequences.

He would have some consequences of his own to deal with shortly. Hopefully, much happier ones, though—the only fire he intended setting was one in Cassie’s heart. Lifting her hand, he kissed her knuckles, then turned back to Georgiana.

“On the night of the fire,” Georgiana continued, “I’d arranged a tryst with Francis. He had, in his eagerness, arrived well before the appointed hour, which probably saved my life. I had washed my hair and was trying to dry it quickly by the fire up in my room. Suddenly, my hair sizzled and spat, and I feared I’d set it alight.”

Surprise froze Ned to the spot. “The fire was an accident? Not deliberately set?”

Georgiana looked confused. “Deliberate? Goodness, no. In my panic to beat the fire out with my hands, I knocked over an old oil lamp, which set the hearthrug ablaze. I screamed to raise the alarm, but only Francis, waiting in the shadows below my open window, heard me.”

“Thank heaven he was there!” Cassie exclaimed.

Ned didn’t dare look at her. Damnation, she’d been right all along. Wycherley hadn’t set the fire.

Georgiana smiled shakily. “Francis scaled the vine outside and was in my room in seconds. But by now, my clothing was alight, and I was screaming and coughing in the smoke, stumbling blindly about, trying to escape the excruciating pain. I must have pulled on the burning bed curtains because the next thing I knew the canopy had fallen down, hitting my head. After that, I knew nothing at all. Until I awoke in a strange room, in agony, with my head swathed in bandages. You cannot imagine the fear I felt until I heard Francis’s voice, telling me to be calm.”

God have mercy. Ned shuddered, horror sluicing through him. How awful for his beloved sister to go through that terrible experience! And he’d been nowhere nearby to help. He’d been wining and dining with Paxton that night, with no idea of what had occurred until several hours later.

He felt once more the grim hopelessness of sorting through the ashes, trying to discover any trace of what had happened to his sister.

Anger rose up in him anew. “And what was Wycherley doing while you lay insensible?”

“He first carried me down the stairs out of harm’s way, then roused the house with the gong, banged on our neighbor’s doors, and alerted a night watchman. Then he rushed me to the nearest physician, who happened to be a friend of his from the Peninsular wars, a man familiar with burns. A bed was made up for me there, and Wycherley barely left my side for days, terrified I might worsen.”

Remembering the destruction Ned had seen when he arrived at what was left of his aunt’s house, he could taste again the awful nausea which had roiled up from his stomach. The terrifying loneliness which had confronted him for his sister, the ghastly fear of her loss he had endured.

“Why were we not told you’d been hurt?” he asked bitterly. “Surely, that should have been his first thought after he’d made you safe?”

She looked contrite. “He wanted to, but I begged him not to. I was so sick, so frightened. The fire was my fault, and I could not face poor Aunt Claudette, who had lost everything. Is she well, Ned? I owe her so much, and I behaved so poorly.”

“I moved her to Gant’s Ridge. She has been grieving over you, Georgiana, even though I urged her not to despair since I had found no evidence you’d died in the fire. Could you not at least have written me a note?”

Cassie murmured, “Ned, this is no time for recriminations. Your sister has been through enough misery. Besides, you went missing for a while yourself, remember? To all manner of speculation.”

“Yes, I heard. And I tried not to worry,” Georgiana said. “I knew the ugly rumor that you’d done away with yourself in a fit of guilt couldn’t be true. You are too strong-minded to contemplate self-destruction.”

It had crossed his mind, to be sure, but he had been too resolute to find her to give it serious consideration. And too determined to wreak his revenge when he found the responsible party.

He said, “I was desperate to find you, and Wycherley was the only clue I had. I thought it very suspicious he’d raised the alarm about the fire but not stayed to help fight it. So I decided to investigate him.”

Understanding lit Georgiana’s eyes. “Which was why Matthews took you for a servant.”

“Aye. I became Mr. Ganstridge, and with a bit of help from friends in high places, I infiltrated Wycherley’s household.”

“I’m trying to imagine the proud Earl of Stranraer as a servant,” Georgiana said with a chuckle, the weight of her confession easing in her smile.

“I’ve learned considerable respect for the serving class, now I know what we put them through,” Ned confessed with a grimace.

“You didn’t show much respect to Matthews,” Cassie chided. “You nearly strangled the unfortunate man.”

“I refute that,” he said contritely. “I knew exactly how much force to use. Pray, don’t tease me.” Not when his emotions were scraped so raw.