Page 165 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

"Pretty words won't save you."

"No, but he might."

Harrington frowned, turning slightly. "Who..."

The vase that hit him was priceless, irreplaceable, and wielded with considerable force by Morrison, who'd appeared in the doorway like an avenging angel in butler's attire.

"That's for making me hire someone with false references," Morrison said with satisfaction as Harrington crumpled. "And for the paperwork I'll have to file."

"Morrison!" Arabella gasped. "How..."

"I've been following him through the servants' passages, my Lady. The ones he didn't know about. Waiting for an opportunity."

"With a vase?"

"It seemed poetic, my Lord. Lady Velott destroyed one in anger. I've used one for justice."

"That was priceless," Lucien observed, though his relief was obvious.

"So is Lady Blackthorn, my Lord."

"Fair point. Remind me to increase your wages."

"Perhaps we could discuss that after we escape the burning building?" Morrison suggested, already moving to help.

"Good point."

But Arabella couldn't move. The contractions were coming faster now, and she could feel pressure that meant...

"The baby's coming now," she gasped. "Actually now!"

"We can't deliver a baby in a burning hallway!" Lucien protested.

"Tell that to the baby!"

They made it out just as the fire brigade arrived—Julian had sent for them at the first sign of smoke. The manor was damaged but not destroyed, most of the fire contained to the three wings Harrington had targeted.

But Arabella didn't care about any of that because she was in labor, proper labor, and there was no time to get to the physician.

"It's too early," she gasped between contractions as they had now taken her to the library which was not affected by the fire.

"Only a few weeks," Mrs. Fielding said, having taken charge with the efficiency of someone who'd delivered babies before. "The baby will be fine."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's your baby. And you're too stubborn to have anything but a stubborn child."

"That's not medical science!"

"It's better. It's faith."

Later that day stretched into eternity. Lucien, who’d stared down riots and Parliament alike without blinking, now paced the corridor like a man possessed. Each muffled sound from behind the door felt like a blade to the chest.

Julian leaned against the wall, arms folded. “You’re wearing a groove in the floor.”

Lucien didn’t even glance at him. “If she’s in pain, I’ll...”

“Kill Harrington. Yes, I’ve heard.”