The door opened and Sophia came in. “Mother! A coach just arrived!”

“A coach?” Mother went to the window. “Who could that be?”

Doctor Blackthorne reached into his bag and pulled out a small bottle. He uncapped it and waved it beneath Chase’s nose. Almost immediately, Chase coughed and sputtered.

He waved his hand weakly, batting it away. “For the love of Hera, get that out of my face!”

Harriet didn’t think she’d ever heard a sweeter sentence. She leaned forward and grasped his hand, holding it between both of hers. “Thank God you are well!”

Chase looked at Harriet, then looked past her to the doctor, and then past the doctor at the rest of the Wards, who were all lined up on the other side of the room, watching him with anxious expressions. His gaze wandered back to Harriet, and he took in the fact that she was wearing a bedraggled night rail, long black soot stains on the knees and streaking her face.

He tightened his grip on her hand. “Good God, what happened to you?”

She only managed a tremulous smile as a large tear made a path down her cheek, cutting a streak through the dirt and soot. “There was a fire—and the barn—you were—”

To Chase’s utter amazement, she burst into tears. Not tender tears he’d previously seen, but heavy sobs that tore at his heart. Wordlessly, he reached out and pulled her down to the settee, holding her tight.

Her cries muffled against his shirt, her tears making a warm wet splotch, Chase silently held her, waiting for her tears to subside.

From across the room, his gaze met Mrs. Ward’s. She, the doctor, Derrick, Stephen, Sophia, and Ophelia all stood, watching. He reddened, but he refused to relinquish his hold on Harriet. “She’s crying,” he said defensively.

“So we see,” Mrs. Ward said, a faint smile on her lips.

“And hear,” Sophia added helpfully. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and there was a trembling smile on her lips.

Chase clamped his mouth closed. He was not going to get into a discussion about this. All he wanted was for Harriet to stop crying. He rested his chin on her head and rubbed her back. “Easy,” he whispered. “Easy, love. I’m fine. Really I am.”

She clutched his shirt and sobbed harder.

The door opened and the gaunt housekeeper stood in the doorway. “That fellow Gower has come, and with him are those two men from the bank.”

Stephen squared his shoulders. “Bring them in, Jane. We’d best get it over with. The wool is lost and there’s nothing more to be done.”

Ophelia sighed and dropped into the window seat, her skirts billowing out about her. “All that work—for nothing.” Her voice echoed hollowly.

“Nonsense,” Sophia said with false cheer. “We had a lovely time and I’m certain I’ll never laugh as hard as I did when I saw Mr. St. John’s sheep.”

Harriet hiccupped a sob, then pulled away from Chase. “G—give me a moment to compose myself. I’ll talk to Gower—”