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Miles glanced wearily at the house, looking up to where he knew Augusta’s room was. He only hoped he had reached her soon enough.

He watched as the barn began to collapse in on itself with an odd sense of detachment. He’d never seen a fire like it. The most common reasons for a fire like that would be because of an oil lamp spilled or someone being careless with a pipe. They were usually slow to start and rose up from the bottom. This one looked as though the roof had been set alight first. This fire had been deliberate, he was certain of it.

Miles splashed his face with water again and finally found the strength to come to his feet. “You had better clean yourself up and get some rest, lad.” He told the stable hand, who had seemed mesmerized by the fire.

“I’ll tend to the horses first,” the boy vowed, hastening away.

As he stepped over to the house, feeling as though he had aged several decades, Mrs. Snow hurried out of the house and wrapped her arms around him once more.

“Mrs. Snow, I am filthy,” he protested, his throat dry.

“We will forever be indebted to you.” She stepped back and cupped his face in both hands. “She is well, if a little tired.” Mrs. Snow’s brow furrowed. “You must come inside and have a drink and some rest.”

He gestured to the barn. “It could not be saved.”

She waved a hand. “Oh it is only a building. Now, come inside,” she ordered.

He ducked into the drawing room. Now that he was away from the smoldering building, he could smell the smoke coming off of his clothes. He looked down to see he was leaving trails of soot. “Mrs. Snow...”

“Nothing that cannot be fixed.” She tilted her head. “Do you need to lie down? Mr. Snow is resting or else he would be here to thank you too.”

He cleared his throat. “I am well enough, Mrs. Snow. Please attend to your family.”

She clasped her hands together. “The housekeeper is with Augusta at present but I should see that Mr. Snow is well...”

“Please do so but may I ask...that is, would you mind if I visit with Miss Snow—just to see that she is well for myself.”

“Most certainly!”

Mrs. Snow led him upstairs and let him into Augusta’s room. Laid against white sheets, she looked paler than ever. The smoke had been washed from her face and her skin was damp. Her eyes fluttered open and she bolted upright as soon as she saw him. “Miles!”

“Please do not—”

“I shall see to my husband, if you do not mind.” She gave Miles’s hand a squeeze. “Thank goodness you were nearby, Lord Ashwick. Whatever would we have done without you?”

He gave a tight smile but could not tear his gaze from Augusta. The housekeeper sat on a rocking chair in one corner, her hands folded across her stomach and her eyes shut. Even when Mrs. Snow departed the room, the woman did not open her eyes.

Augusta smiled. “It seems she has had a trying day.”

“Not nearly as trying as you.”

“Nor you.” She reached for him and he could not resist taking those delicate fingers in his and coming to her bedside. “Mama says you saved my life.”

He lifted his shoulders as he came to kneel beside the bed. “You saved the lives of those horses.”

“It was Jenkins,” she blurted out.

“Jenkins?”

“He was here. In my room. I…” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I hurt him and I’m certain he burned the barn in revenge.”

“Christ,” he muttered. “I shall ensure he is dealt with,” he vowed.

“I know you will.” She pressed the handkerchief she had bunched in one hand to her mouth when a coughing fit struck. Remaining sitting, she squeezed his hand tight. “Miles, I would have died in there had it not been for you—”

“Do not even say that,” he said gruffly. He couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to her.

“Miles, listen,” she said with more force than he expected.