"So, can you tell me what happened?"
Sarah chewed her lip, unsure quite how much to say.
"Go on, love, you might as well tell him everything," Alexander said with a resigned sigh. "Maybe Malcolm can help."
"I would like to try," the reserved young man said earnestly. "Anything for a Rakehell. Or his sister."
"All right, Malcolm, I'll tell you everything we know."
Between the two of them they filled him in on all that had happened since his earliest recollections of Spain, while Malcolm sat at the desk and took copious notes. At length he sat back with a sigh and looked from one to the other. He rubbed one elegant long hand over his face and shook his head.
"It's a remarkable story. I'm not sure how much of it I can even put in the official report. A lot of what happened in Bath sounds like an accident, or mere supposition."
"But the fact remains someone poured lamp oil on the burning fire in the hearth to set the house ablaze."
"Indeed, Mr. Deveril, er, Alexander, I'm not doubting you." Malcolm continued to stare at him for some time, as if trying to place him. He too had been to Eton and Oxford, though three years below Jonathan and the original Rakehells.
"I was just saying, we can stick to the facts. That arson was perpetrated, and a vicious assault committed upon the house. Sarah has given us good descriptions of the men who came through the door."
"And would recognize them and our assailants in Bath again."
"Good. I'm just sorry there isn't more I can do. Four men in Bath, ten men here, it seems pretty clear that these are dangerous people who want you dead. And don't care who they hurt in the process."
Sarah rose from her chair and began to pace. "Which is why we were trying to get north. Damn it. If only I had listened to my instincts and just left straight away, Jenny would still be alive."
Malcolm and Alexander both began to protest.
"Don't you dare blame yourself. It's me they want."
Malcolm said angrily, "Don't you dare blame yourself for what those cutthroats did. And you were only trying to be loyal and responsible for Jonathan's sake. How were you to know they would behave like such madmen?"
Sarah sighed. "True," she conceded, though the thought gave her little comfort.
Malcolm rose, drained his glass of sherry, and adjusted his fine linen cuffs and sienna jacket sleeves. "Thank you for the drink. I shall leave you both to rest. I take it you are planning to go north tomorrow?"
She looked up into the dark haired man's worried face. "I need to find my brother."
"I shall have some men escort you at least part of the way."
"Oh, no, really, I wouldn't want to put everyone to such--"
"Trouble?" he said with a dry laugh. "You haven't. These killers have. Now get some rest, and be ready in the morning. About eight? I would go with you myself, my dear, but I am afraid my fiancee Emma's family require me tomorrow for the final discussions about our marriage settlement. If it were only up to me--"
"Don't be silly, Malcolm. You and Emma have waited long enough."
"Which is why one more day won't make much difference."
"Still, there will be much to do if you're to be wed at Christmas," she said with a smile.
"I shall look forward to dancing with you then, my dear. But for the moment, if you're sure you don't require me--"
"I'm sure."
"Then I shall bid you adieu. Mr. Deveril."
"Alexander, please."
"Yes, just so." With one more long look, he left them.
Sarah blew out a shaky sigh, and tried to quash the vision she saw in her mind's eye of just how pregnant she was going to be by the time the Yuletide arrive.
She opened her mouth to tell Alexander the news she had been keeping from him, but just then Jed entered to urge them to eat some supper and then get an early night.
She wrapped her arms around her lover for a brief moment, then followed the young man into the dining room, where his sister served up and stood over them both to make sure they ate every morsel.
By that time her eyelids were drooping. They both headed up and fell into bed, nestled against each other as closely as two peas in a pod. The soaring excitement she felt in his arms was in no way diminished despite her weariness. If anything her enervated state made everything spark off even more explosively. Every muscle straining, they climaxed together, the heavy weight of his body a caress all of its own as he laid on top of her panting.
"I'm sorry, my love, so sorry for all of this," he whispered, his tone filled with bitter regret.