Page 3 of To Heal a Broken Earl (The Rakes of Mayhem #7)

Near Shepherd’s Square, Mayfair

London, England

The whole night felt like a scene from one of the Gothic novels Emma loved to read.

But there was nothing to love about her sister’s home burning to the ground at the hands of an evil arsonist. She closed her eyes and counted to ten before opening them, praying that when she did, she would find herself back in her room, with Katie tucked safely next to her, and a storybook in her hands.

But when she opened her eyes, she was still in the drawing room at Lady Beadle’s, with Katie perched on her lap, giggling as she watched the dowager’s cats bat paws at each other and meow.

Had it been three hours since they’d left their home and arrived at Lady Beadle’s doorstep? It felt like a lifetime.

Emma and Katie arrived, soot-streaked and exhausted, in the middle of the night.

Within moments, the butler kindly opened the door, his face showing immediate concern as he took in their bedraggled state.

“Lady Grantham, how can I assist you?” he asked, holding a candle aloft to light the darkened hall.

“I’m s-so sorry to wake you at this hour, Jenkins. But we need help,” Emma said, between wheezing and coughing. She was still feeling the effects of the smoke she and Katie had inhaled. Thankfully, Katie’s coughing had eased during the ride to Lady Beadle’s.

Jenkins quickly ushered them into the vestibule.

“Could we possibly see Lady Beadle? Our…h-house…b-burned down, and Katie and I have no p-place to go.”

“My dear lady… I am so deeply sorry,” the butler said, his voice and face reflecting shock.

“Thank you, Jenkins,” she said, hugging Katie closer to her side. “There was a strange man… I think he set the fire.” Her voice sounded strained and hoarse to her ears.

“Good God!” the older man said, horror tightening his features. He immediately turned to one of the footmen standing behind him. “Wake the stable hands and see that the horses are settled.”

“Yes, sir,” the young man said, hurrying away.

Emma’s nerves had begun to fray, as they often did once the worst of a crisis had passed—that delayed, trembling fear.

“I…I wondered if I could get word to Lady Armstrong,” she said, her voice uneven.

Emma had never been a fragile, wilting flower, unlike many of the debutantes in Society who fluttered their fans and simpered behind them. But tonight, with her sister and brother-in-law away and no familiar comfort nearby, she had needed the steady, reassuring presence of her friend.

Without hesitation, Jenkins turned to the remaining footman.

“Go at once and fetch Lord and Lady Armstrong,” he instructed the man, his voice low and urgent. “Make haste.”

The other young man nodded and rushed off just as a tapping sound echoed behind them.

“My dear Emma,” Lady Beadle said, approaching them, her cane thumping briskly against the polished marble floor as she walked.

Jenkins turned and bowed slightly. “My lady, forgive the commotion, but Lady Grantham and her niece have been through a terrible ordeal.”

“I can see that,” Lady Beadle said, her voice softening. She reached out and enveloped Emma and Katie in a warm hug. “My dears, let us help you.”

Emma blinked back tears and murmured her thanks, overwhelmed by the dowager’s kindness.

“Come, let us sit in the drawing room,” Lady Beadle said briskly, patting Emma’s arm.

“I’m sure Celia and William will be here soon.

Yes, Jenkins, I heard you tell Reggie to fetch them,” she added with a faint smile as the butler opened his mouth once more to explain.

“The drawing room will be better suited. It’s larger, and I fear there will be a full house before we get this all sorted. ”

She turned to Jenkins once more. “Now, be a dear and bring us some good, strong tea, warm milk for Katie, and a plate of those delicious lemon biscuits Mrs. Peppers made earlier. Oh, and prepare a guest chamber for Emma and Katie. The blue room—it’s so soothing.

I am certain they will want to rest and revive themselves after their ordeal.

And bring us clean cloths and a bowl of warm water for washing. ”

“Yes, my lady,” Jenkins said promptly, and he escorted them to the drawing room and saw to their comfort.

Emma sighed with relief as Lady Beadle took charge. She was too exhausted to think clearly.

Once they had been settled, Lady Beadle tapped her cane lightly against the floor. “Jenkins, could you retrieve my hearing horn? I need to hear everything Lady Grantham tells me, so I don’t miss any important details.”

“Yes, mistress,” the butler said in a bland voice. He crossed to a small cabinet beside the door, withdrew a conical black-and-brass hearing device, and handed it to the dowager with practiced efficiency.

“Ah! Now, then. This will do the trick,” Lady Beadle said, adjusting the horn to her ear.

Emma knew that Lady Beadle was hard of hearing.

Celia had told her, with a chuckle, that her aunt could read lips perfectly well—but she preferred the ear horn for dramatic effect.

She enjoyed seeing the long-suffering look on Jenkins’s face every time she asked him to retrieve it—and she loved to complain about the blasted thing.

Seeing the butler still standing beside them, Lady Beadle asked, “Was there something else, Jenkins?”

“Yes, my lady. With your permission, I will instruct several of our footmen to check the perimeter of the house to ensure Lady Grantham and her young niece were not followed.”

Lady Beadle nodded. “Sound judgment, Jenkins. As usual, you are several steps ahead of me,” the older woman said, smiling in his direction.

“Meow…”

“Lady Beadle, your kittens are so funny. They make me laugh,” Katie said, giggling, bringing Emma out of her reverie.

“Yes, they are rather cheeky pusses, aren’t they, my dear?” Lady Beadle said, smiling as she dangled a long feather on a stick before them.

Emma regarded her hostess, wishing she, too, could laugh at the precocious cats chasing the feather.

She had done her best to remain calm while she relayed the events of the night to Lady Beadle, but now, as they waited for Celia and Armstrong to arrive, she could feel her emotions bubbling up again, like a tidal wave.

“My dear Emma, may I offer you another cup of tea?” Lady Beadle asked in a kind voice. “I find tea to be most restorative after a shock.”

“No, thank you, my lady,” Emma said, hearing the tremor in her voice.

“You have endured a horrendous ordeal,” the old woman said gently, “but I promise you—even after the darkest night, the sun will always rise.”

Emma nodded, sniffling back tears. “I know, Lady Beadle… But the fire… Everything is gone.” She swallowed hard as if something large and painful were lodged in her throat, so swollen it was. Her sister’s beautiful home…the lovely carriage house… Both had likely been completely destroyed.

“You’re safe, my dear, and that is what counts,” Lady Beadle said softly as if reading her thoughts. “Houses can be rebuilt. New gowns can be sewn. But a life, once lost, is lost forever.”

Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Lady Beadle was right.

They were alive.

They were safe from the fire.

Safe from him .

Emma had no idea who the man was, nor why he had set the fire. But she knew without a doubt that it had been him, standing so nonchalantly beneath the lamppost, as though he were watching a cricket match instead of a house burning to the ground.

But why?

“I fear I may have brought terrible trouble to your door,” Emma said, her voice cracking. Despite her attempts to stop them, tears began to stream down her face. “Only I didn’t know where else to turn.”

“Of course, you did the right thing coming here,” Lady Beadle said in a reassuring tone. “And I have lived through and overcome plenty of troubling times, my dear—and so will you.” She smiled as she reached for a navy velvet cord and tugged it.

Jenkins appeared a few moments later.

“My lady, how may I be of service?”

“Jenkins, please ask Doris to join us,” Lady Beadle said, gesturing to Katie, who had fallen asleep.

Emma shifted the child on her lap, tucking Katie’s head onto her shoulder.

“Right away, my lady,” the older man said. He bobbed a quick nod and left.

“Emma, you must stay with us as long as you need,” Lady Beadle said. “We will do everything in our power to put things to rights.”

Before Emma could answer, a sweet-faced older woman rushed into the drawing room.

“Ah, there you are, Doris,” Lady Beadle said.

“My lady, the blue room has been prepared for your guests.”

“Excellent, Doris. You remember Lady Grantham. She and her niece have escaped a horrible fire at Mr. Martin Saunders’s home. Mr. Saunders is my solicitor, and he and his wife Evie are dear friends, as you know.”

Katie stirred on Emma’s lap. “Auntie Emma, did you see the man?” she murmured in a sleepy voice. The little girl sat up, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and looked around. “Can they help us, Auntie?"

“Of course we will, little lamb,” Lady Beadle interjected, nonplussed by Katie’s question. “And you must both call me Millie.”

Katie shook her head. “Mama told me always to ask and not as-thume ,” she said.

“Your mama is a wise woman,” Lady Beadle said with a smile. “I would love to have two more nieces. How about you call me Auntie Millie?”

Katie gave a sleepy nod.

“Now then, we have a pretty bedchamber all ready for you. Doris can take you upstairs and help you get settled.”

“But what about Auntie Emma?”

“I’ll be fine here,” Emma said, kissing Katie on the forehead.

“But Polly gets scared at night,” Katie said, hugging her cloth doll close to her chest.

“Doris will stay with you and Polly the entire time,” Lady Beadle said.

“Yes, indeed,” Doris said, her voice soft and gentle. “Do you like bedtime stories?”

Katie nodded, her face lighting up. “Polly likes bedtime stories too.”