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Chapter Six

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CHRISTIAN WIPED THE soot out of his eyes, his once-white lawn shirt now blackened and gray. Luckily, the stable hands and groomsmen had leapt into action, and most of the stable fire had been contained to the tack room―a near miracle. It would be much easier for the duke to replace equipment than a valuable animal.

Walking back toward the drive, Christian looked around the lawn at the servants, family members, and guests who had gathered to watch. He found a cluster of maids surrounding the duchess and several houseguests, but when Christian's gaze searched the faces, Alice's wasn't among them. His stomach dropped. She hadn't gone near the stables, had she?

Turning on his heel, he strode back toward the smoldering side of the stables. Groomsmen still poured buckets of water on the structure. Alice wasn't there. Could the fire have been a distraction to spirit her away? Or worse?

Turning in frustration and worry, he finally saw a lone woman a short distance away, her figure familiar. Her arms were folded as she stared at the burned section of the stables. He started toward her, relieved she was safe.

When he reached her side, she looked up at him, not with sadness, as he’d expected, but calm determination. "This isn't a coincidence."

"No, it isn't." He stood next to her and they watched the last embers sizzling as the servants poured water over the wood.

"We're lucky we didn’t lose any servants or horses. We very nearly did." She dropped her arms to her side and started walking back toward the house. “I need to find my father.”

“He was directing the water brigade on the south side of the stables so no embers will burst into flame there.” He easily kept pace with her. “Do you have a theory as to who might be behind this?”

“Possibly.” She glanced over at him and briefly pursed her lips. “But I need more facts.”

They reached the graveled drive that led to the house when the Duke of Huntingdon approached them. His own coat was smudged with soot and his brow was drawn down in concern. "Pearce saw a man running away from the stables just before the fire broke out. He ran him down, and there was a scuffle. Pearce was stabbed, and the suspected arsonist ran in the direction of the village."

Christian’s pulse picked up at the mention of Pearce. “How bad is Pearce’s injury? Will he recover?”

“I’m not sure. My personal physician has been called.” The duke’s face was grim. “We’re going after the man responsible. Would you care to find a mount and join us?”

“Yes,” both Christian and Alice replied simultaneously. Christian was surprised by her answer. Surely the duke wouldn’t let her accompany them. Yet when he turned toward the paddock where the horses had been moved, she did as well. He put his hand on her arm. “Perhaps you should stay here and oversee Pearce’s care. It’s nearing dark, my lady.”

Her eyes narrowed and she frowned. "And darkness or daylight, I know this land far better than you, my lord." She faced him with a stubborn set to her jaw.

“Enough!” the duke said from their right, his voice like a crack of gunfire. His hand sliced through the air. “We'll need Alice's ability as a guide and Wolverton's as a tracker. Both of you get a horse saddled. We'll leave immediately.”

Christian shook his head, but didn’t say more. He offered an arm to escort her to the paddock, but she brushed by without a second glance. Wryly, he followed.

Several grooms had their hands full trying to calm the horses, who were stamping and nervous, though the groomsmen were able to get two horses saddled with tack that had been saved from the fire. Alice kept her arms folded, staring past the stables toward the edges of her family’s property. Her evening dress was still mostly presentable, though she wasn’t wearing her gloves. She looked ready to sit down to dinner. Instead, she was getting ready to ride out after the man who had stabbed Pearce.

Christian didn't mind the lack of conversation. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Alice's status with the Falcon Group, and he was organizing his own thoughts about what the arson meant. In the last seventy-two hours, an agent had been killed, an attempt made on his or Alice’s life, arson, and now an agent had been stabbed. Was the traitor trying to kill agents on the list before he sold their names to the French? Or distract them from the exchange? And it hadn’t escaped his attention that Pembroke had been present at every incident. Though Christian could only assume he was still at the house, since he hadn’t seen Pembroke on the grounds or near those putting out the fire. Where was he really? Was he the suspected arsonist running toward the village? 

When Christian and Alice were both mounted and ready, the duke and several grooms on horseback motioned for them to turn toward the east side of the estate. “We'll search in pairs," the duke announced. "Fire one shot into the air if you find the blackguard.”

Christian instinctively maneuvered his horse close to Alice's, and she didn't seem to mind. They broke off from the group, which was fanning out on the edges of the property that led to the village and headed toward the center of a wooded area. The last vestiges of light were quickly fading, and they didn’t have much time before blackness would envelop them.

Christian followed Alice's horse as they galloped to the wood. Slowing, they picked their way over fallen logs and around tree limbs, cautiously moving forward until they came to a small clearing. Alice slid off her horse, and Christian did the same. He immediately saw several low-hanging branches that had been bent. A tell-tale sign showing someone had been through here. He leaned over to look at them.

"What do you see?" she asked, her voice low.

He pulled a branch forward to show her. "It's freshly broken. Someone has passed this way recently." He tied his horse's reins to the more sturdy branches on the other side and reached for Alice’s horse to tie hers as well.

Christian peered around the clearing. The man could be hiding anywhere in this wood or gone on his way to the village. “Let’s see if we can pick up his trail.”

He walked forward, looking for any tracks or signs that someone had run by. Nothing. Alice had moved a dozen steps to his right, both of them on alert for any hint of the intruder. The deeper they went into the trees, the darker it became.

He turned to suggest that they go back to the horses, when he saw a man dressed in dark clothing appear out of the trees, running straight toward Alice. He was hardly more than a shadowy blur. Christian bolted toward them, but he was too late. The assailant tackled her, rolling with her to the ground. The darkness of the foliage and shrubbery seemed to swallow them up, and Christian felt like a blind man stumbling about as he tried to find them.

"Alice!" he shouted.

He heard her cry out and then a man’s choking roar. Heading toward the sounds, he saw a shadow crashing through the forest in front of him. The man was getting away, but all Christian could think of was Alice. He rushed to her side, where she was crouched near a tree stump, holding her stomach.

"Are you hurt?" He pulled her to him, pushing her hair away from her face. "Alice?"

"I'm well," she said automatically, but her voice was shaky. He gently took her by the shoulders to look over her person and felt stickiness on his hands. Blood. As his eyes adjusted, he could see dark stains all over the front of her dress.

"You're bleeding," he said, his heart hammering in his chest. He needed to get her to a doctor immediately. He froze, wanting to sweep her onto his horse and ride hard back to the house, but his innate sense of direction had disappeared. He wasn’t sure where to find his horse.

"No, the blood isn’t mine," she said, looking down at her clothing. "He had a knife, but when he raised it, I was able to twist around and then . . . " She took a deep breath. "I stabbed him. It's his blood," she finally said.

Relief flooded Christian. He stopped resisting his instincts and bent to pick her up, needing to hold her for a moment and reassure himself that she was well. “We'll talk more when we get back to the estate.”

She put her hand up to stop him. "I’m perfectly capable of walking," she protested. He set her down as requested, but when her foot touched the ground, she cried out.

Christian lifted her once again and held her to his chest. "Allow me."

She was as still as a granite statue in his arms as he carried her back to the horses. "I stabbed him," she said softly.

He could hear the shock in her voice. “You did what you had to do. Could you see his face?" He adjusted her weight, pulling her a little closer and letting her soft curls rest on his cheek. She seemed fragile all of a sudden, and he didn't like that feeling. Since he'd met her, she'd been strong and challenging. He liked thinking of her that way. Needed her to stay that way.

"Not really." She finally laid her head on his shoulder as if the weight she was carrying was too much to bear at the moment. All too soon they reached the horses and it was time to let her go. He lifted her onto the saddle and waited until she was settled. “We'll find him.”

She stared down at him from atop the horse, determination in her gaze. "Next time we'll be ready.”

He liked that she used "we," but it twisted the guilt flowing through him at the same time. He nodded and reluctantly left her side to mount his own horse. Once he was in the saddle, he stayed within arm's reach of Alice the entire ride back to Langdon Park, making sure she didn’t jostle her injured foot.

Even though it was near dark, he couldn’t wait for her to change out of that torn and bloody dress. It only reminded him of how close she’d come to losing her life. Again. At the ball, she’d run toward danger, and this time, danger had run toward her. He’d been mere feet away both times, and both times he’d been unable to stop it. Whoever this was had caught Christian off-guard twice, and Alice had nearly paid with her life. That wouldn't happen again.

He looked over at her, with her back straight and hair falling around her waist. Her chin was raised, and she appeared as a warrior approaching the castle with her battle wounds. Yes, Alice Huntingdon was a fighter, and she was someone he’d fight beside.

Because together, he knew they could win.