Harriet could barely hear herself think. Chase was in here, she knew it. She could feel it as surely as she could feel the dirt beneath her hands, feel the smoke that tortured her eyes.

Suddenly, she found him, sprawled on the floor. Her fingers closing over his hair, his face. She shook him, trying to wake him. “Chase!” she choked, catching her breath. “Get up!”

Derrick materialized out of the smoke, his wet coat tied over his face. He bent over Chase.

After a second, he glanced up and yelled over the roar of the fire. “We must get him out of here. Once the fire gets to the wool—”

“Take his shoulders, I’ll get his feet.”

Derrick did as she told him and they struggled to lift St. John. It took every ounce of strength Harriet possessed, but she managed. Together, she and Derrick staggered out of the barn, choking and wheezing as they went. They half dragged, half carried their burden to the yard and then fell into a heap, gasping for breath in the cool air.

Mother was there in an instant. She looked at Harriet and then Derrick. “If you two ever, ever do something that foolhardy again, I’ll—”

“Mother,” Harriet gasped. “Chase is injured. His head—” She couldn’t go on.

Mother’s expression softened. “I’ll see to him.” She glanced at Ophelia, who hovered nearby. “Bring your brother and sister some water.” She turned and began to examine Chase.

Ophelia brought a bucket and dipper. Harriet sipped the water and rubbed her chest where it burned, trying hard not to think. If she thought about Chase, alone in the barn, injured and bleeding while flames crackled about him, she would cry. Cry and cry until she could cry no more. She closed her eyes and said a fervent prayer. He was so special. So dear. She loved him so much that—She opened her eyes. She loved him.

Mother rocked back on her heels, her face grave. “I can’t believe it.”

Harriet’s heart dropped. “He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Her voice cracked.

“No. He’s breathing. And he’s not bleeding badly at all. It’s this.” She pulled back his shirtsleeves. “He was tied, Harriet. Both his hands and feet.” She met Harriet’s gaze with a frightened look. “Harriet, someone tried to kill him.”

Chapter 26

The St. Johns hate as hard as they love. ’Tis the way o’ them and I don’t see them a-changin’.

Little Bob, the coachman, to Miss Lucy, Lady Birlington’s maid, while meeting for a tryst

Doctor Blackthorne shook his head. “It’s a sad business this.”

Harriet, who had been hovering beside the couch, stepped forward quickly. “What? Is he well? Do you need some water? Or should I—”

“Harriet,” Mother said, taking her daughter by the arm and leading her to a chair. “Come and sit here and let the doctor do his job.”

Harriet subsided into the chair, her hands clasped before her. She said a quick prayer, though she kept her gaze fastened on Chase. He looked so pale, lying there on the couch, his clothes and face smeared with soot, his hair matted with blood. Dr. Blackthorne had said no stitches were needed, but Harriet wasn’t sure she believed him. All she knew was that if Chase St. John would live, she’d never want for anything again.