The mare was standing in the shadows, dozing. He vaulted into the saddle, startling the horse. He kicked her into a gallop, rounding the manor. By the time they hit the drive, the mare was going flat out. Here in the open, the fire seemed to loom larger in the sky. Even from this distance, he could see the flames leaping into heaven. He thought he smelled the smoke. It looked huge. Was the whole of Granville House engulfed? The mare reached the road and he slowed just enough to make sure there were no obstacles ahead. If Bennet and Will had been inside asleep . . .

Harry shook the thought away. He would not think until he reached Granville House and saw the damage.

Past the stream, lights glowed in the cottages dotting the hills. The farmers who lived and worked on Granville land were awake and must know of the blaze. But strangely he met no one else hurrying to the fire. Had they gone on ahead or were they huddled inside their cottages, pretending they didn’t see? He topped the rise before the Granville gates, and the wind blew smoke and dancing ashes in his face. The mare was flecked with foam, but he urged her on down the drive.

And then he saw. The blaze had enveloped the stables, but Granville House was yet untouched.

The mare reared at the sight of the fire. Harry fought her down and forced her closer. As they neared, he could hear the shouting of men and the dreadful roar of the flames consuming the stables. Granville prided himself on his horseflesh, and he probably had twenty or more horses stabled here.

Only two horses were outside the stables.

Harry clattered into the yard, unnoticed by the lord or his servants. Men milled, half-dressed, seemingly in a daze. Their blackened faces were weirdly lit by the flames, the whites of eyes and teeth reflecting the glow. A few had formed a line and threw puny buckets of water on the inferno, merely making the monster more angry. In the middle of it all, Silas Granville was a figure out of hell. In his nightshirt, his bare legs sticking out of buckle shoes, his gray hair standing wildly on end, he surged around the courtyard, shaking his fists.

“Get him! Get him!” Granville cuffed a man, sending him sprawling to the cobblestones. “Goddamn all of you! I’ll see you run out of my lands! I’ll see you hung, you filthy curs! Someone get my son!”

Only on the last word did Harry realize a man was trapped in the inferno. He stared at the burning stables. The flames licked hungrily at the walls. Was it Thomas or Bennet?

“Nooo!”