“Fire!”
The moment the waltz began to come to an end, a sudden shout ripped across the ballroom. Everyone fell silent, the music fading away and each person looking to the other to see who it was who had screamed such a thing.
“Fire! Outside! In the gardens!”
Robert turned at once, finding Miss Hemmingway’s hand in his. Hurrying towards the French doors that led to Lord and Lady Wiltshire’s rather expansive gardens for what was a townhouse, he tugged her into the darkness, only to find himself staring at a fire that was burning merrily in the middle of the grass.
“Put it out at once!” cried someone—most likely, their host—but it was Miss Hemmingway who stepped forward.
“Look,” she whispered, pointing towards the fire. “The shape of it. It is…..rather odd, is it not?”
Robert looked hard, noticing what she meant. Still holding her hand tightly, he took a few steps forward, just as footmen appeared with buckets of water. His breath caught. He saw precisely what the shape of the fire was. It was a circle, with a cross running through it, reaching all the way through and cutting through the bottom of the circle.
“The emblem,” he whispered, and Miss Hemmingway stepped back. As the footmen threw water onto the fire, the smoke and steam began to pour up towards the sky.
“Lord Franks,” Miss Hemmingway said gently, her hand now on his arm and gently tugging him back. “Lord Franks, do be careful.”
He whirled around, a sudden fierceness catching his spirit as he stared at one face and then another, trying to make out features of those around him, even though the darkness continued to hide their faces from him.
“Lord Franks,” Miss Hemmingway continued gently, still refusing to let him alone. “Come inside, my lord. It is very smoky here and I am sure you will feel better inside.”
“I am not unwell,” he grated, turning around to face her, seeing only her basic features illuminated by the dim light coming from the ballroom. “The fire…..that was for me.”
Her hand stayed on his for a moment, before she resumed gently tugging him towards the French doors.
“Do come inside and explain all to me,” she said, encouragingly. “Staying outside will do you no good.”
Robert felt himself relent, his angst beginning to lessen as he realized the wisdom in her words. He would not be able to find whoever was responsible now, not when it was so dark. And yet, he knew full well that the symbol on the grass, the emblem, had been meant solely for him. It was meant to mock him, to laugh at him, to make him feel as belittled as he did at present. Having just discovered the fate that had befallen Lord Caravel, he was now presented with the emblem he knew so little about now burned on the grass, mocking his lack of success and perhaps suggesting that he might never be able to achieve all that he hoped. Trudging inside, Robert let out a long breath, finding no joy in the music, in the chattering crowd and the glittering ballroom.
“What is wrong, Lord Franks?” Miss Hemmingway was looking directly at him now, having led him to a quiet corner of the ballroom. “You look greatly distressed.”
He shook his head, finding it almost impossible to speak without revealing just how much he was upset by this. “The fire was not merely a fire,” he said, keeping his head low and aware that his voice was barely loud enough for her to hear. “It was set deliberately. The shape of it was the emblem, the one we found on the man who shot through Lord Watt’s window and the one on your brother’s handkerchief.”
She blinked in surprise, her mouth forming a circle but she said nothing. He looked at her with something like disappointment and regret building in his heart, feeling as though he had already failed entirely.
“Someone here set it,” he muttered, pushing one hand through his dark hair and letting it fall untidily to one side.
“How could they have done so with such intricacy?”
A rueful half smile tugged at his mouth. “There are a few ways that it might be done. Some require earlier preparation, some can be done very quickly provided there are others involved. However, at this juncture, I only have one person in my mind to question.”
The swift intake of breath from Miss Hemmingway told him that she knew precisely
what she meant.
“I must find my brother at once.”
Robert’s head lifted sharply. This was not what he had expected to hear from her, more than a little astonished that she had been so willing to immediately accept that her brother might have been the one to set the fire.
“If you believe him to be the one to have done so, then surely there will be signs that he is the one to speak to,” Miss Hemmingway continued, perhaps surprised to see his own astonishment and wanting to confirm what she had said. “I have no intention of warning him or chasing him away, if that is what you fear.”
“No, no,” Robert said hurriedly, shaking his head and catching Miss Hemmingway’s hand. “No, I do not think that, Miss Hemmingway, truly.” Letting out a long breath, he looked around the ballroom, knowing that the other gentlemen of the League would be looking to speak to him. “Might you find your brother? And if there is anything of note, anything at all to speak of, then would you write to me? I know it would be very late indeed but I must know the truth.” Recalling Lord Caravel, he closed his eyes for a moment. “I must also go to see how Lord Caravel fares.”
Miss Hemmingway nodded. “But of course,” she answered, her fingers tight in his. “I quite understand. And I thank you for putting your trust in me, I am very grateful. Now, go to your friend, Lord Franks. And I shall write to you just as soon as I am able.”
Chapter Ten
Carolyn watched Lord Franks walk away, her heart filled with all manner of emotions. She was afraid for what the emblem fire meant and whether or not her brother had been the one to set it. There was a compassion there also, sorry for Lord Franks and for all that he was enduring, and horrified to hear that something disastrous had occurred to one of the other gentlemen of this ‘League’. And she was glad that Lord Franks was willing now to trust her, to give her a role in his investigations so that she might be of aid in some way. Despite what she feared, despite her anxiety that her brother might have been the one to set the fire, she told herself that there was nothing she could do but try and discover the truth. There was still something in her that said that Lord Hamilton was not the sort of gentleman to betray his country, not the sort of man to arrange for a man to be knocked from his horse or to shoot a pistol through a window without consideration, but the only way she would be able to prove such a thing would be by finding the answers Lord Franks required.