Page 49 of The Duke and the Darkness

“Send for the fire brigade!” Devlin ordered the tiger, who stood on the footpath and stared dumbstruck at the building as flames quickly engulfed it. As Devlin ran toward the house, the butler stumbled out, coughing and hacking to clear his lungs of the black smoke. “Organize buckets,” he called out to the butler. “Now!”

Then he leapt up the front stairs and rushed inside.

Black smoke and heat from the growing flames eating their way forward from the rear of the house engulfed him. He pulled his cravat over his mouth, bent down to keep away from the thickening smoke overhead, and hurried on.

“Peyton!” he yelled above the noise of the flames and the creaking beams damaged from the initial explosion. If he didn’t find her soon, they would both be dead in a matter of minutes.

He ran from room to room, searching for her. The dark rooms were lit by the licking flames racing through the townhouse yet further darkened by the thickening smoke, but it was enough for him to see she wasn’t there.

“Peyton!”Where the hell are you?

Then he heard her—her voice calling out above the noise of the fire from the rear of the house, but not for him. She was screaming frantically at the top of her smoke-choked lungs for Wilkins and Proctor.

He ran to her and grabbed her arm to stop her just as she was about to start up the rear steps toward the floors above. The fire from the explosion had already engulfed the back of the house and was lapping at the walls and floors, and the stairs groaned beneath the weight of the flames from the cellar below. If she tried to go down them, they would have collapsed beneath her.

“Let me go!” she cried, her voice hoarse from inhaling smoke and coughing. But Devlin held fast and refused to let go of her arm. “I’ve got to find them—Proctor! Wilkins!” A new fit of coughing gripped her lungs. “I’ve got to make certain they’re safe.”

A window exploded from the heat. Devlin instinctively shielded her with his body and his face with his arm. The sound reverberated through the house like cannon fire and tore a soft scream from her.

“And I have to make certainyou’resafe,” he countered.

Without asking her permission, he scooped her into his arms and tossed her over his shoulder, then ran back with her through the house toward the front door. She angrily swung her fists and kicked her legs, only to capitulate after just a few feet’s progress through the smoke that was now as black as pitch and so thick that each hot breath seared his lungs.

Just as they reached the entry hall, the ceiling groaned angrily beneath the weight of the flames and gave way. Plaster, lath, and beams crashed down upon them in a shower of debris and bright sparks. A piece of wood hit his arm, and he stumbled, nearly dropping Peyton to the floor. But there was no time to hesitate, so he grabbed her hand and ran with her through the door and out into the street.

They paused at the bottom of the steps to fill their lungs with fresh air, with Devlin bent over nearly double as coughs racked his chest.

“You’re hurt,” Peyton rasped out between coughs as she reached for him. “Your arm…”

He glanced down. A long rip had torn through his left jacket sleeve and into the muscle beneath, and already bright blood had seeped into his white shirtsleeve. But he dismissed it with a gritting of his teeth and laced his fingers through hers.

“Come on,” he ordered and pulled her along with him. “We can’t say here.”

“But—Wilkins—and Proctor—” She glanced over her shoulder at the townhouse, not strong enough to halt his steps and make him go back. “We have to save them!”

“It’s too late.” He hurried her through the small crowd of curiosity-seekers already gathering on the footpath. He had to take her away from here.Immediately.“If they’re not already out—”

“No!” She yanked his arm and dug in her heels. “I have to help them!”

He stopped and leaned toward her, his voice low and deadly serious. “And who helps you if the person who set that explosion realizes you weren’t inside when it went off?” He could afford no misunderstanding about this. “Townhouses don’t explode like that unless someone wanted them to. They tried to kill you tonight, and they’ll try again as soon as they realize they failed.”

Her face paled even in the moving shadows cast by the flickering flames of the inferno raging behind them.

“There are enough people here to help those who might still be inside.” He glanced over her shoulder at the gathering crowd, then narrowed his eyes on her. “You are my primary concern, understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered, clearly unconvinced.

But he didn’t have time for more persuasion. He took her elbow and pulled her along with him as his long strides hurried away from the house, down the street, and around the corner. Then around another corner. Only then did he slow his pace and let her catch her breath. Finally, they emerged onto a wide avenue. Devlin stepped to the edge of the footpath and waved an arm to signal for a hackney.

When a small carriage stopped beside them, he yanked open the door and helped her inside. “Brownlow Street in St Giles,” he ordered the driver.

The jarvey pulled at the brim of his rain-dampened beaver hat, flicked the ribbons, and started the old horse forward.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he settled onto the seat across from her.

“To a refuge.” He let that be enough answer for now. “You’ll be safe there.”

Thankfully, she didn’t press him for more information. Instead, she asked, “Why didn’t we take my carriage?”