Page 39 of To Heal a Broken Earl
“Can Finn come too?” she asked.
Emma looked at Michael, who smiled. “Yes, of course Finn can go too. I’m sure he would enjoy a treat, wouldn’t you, boy?” He scratched his dog behind the ears.
“Doris, could you please take Katie and Finn to the kitchen for a snack?” Emma asked.
“Yes, my lady,” Doris said, taking Katie’s hand. “Come along, dear.”
Katie took a few steps forward, then turned back to Burns. “Polly wants to say thank you, Mr. Burns.”
“You are very welcome, Polly and Katie,” he said warmly.
“I didn’t want to upset Katie by showing her the finished sketch,” Emma explained after Katie and Doris had left.
“But you also got a look at him?” Michael asked.
Emma nodded, biting her lower lip.
Michael clenched his teeth, feeling a deep desire to hold Emma and comfort her. She was incredibly strong and brave for Katie, yet she was also dealing with her own pain. The bastard was out there, and Michael was certain of it. For reasons he couldn’t fully understand, he sensed that Emma was in realdanger from this man. She had seen him, and the arsonist had already taken two lives. His fires had gotten bigger and deadlier.
Burns spent a few more minutes on the drawing, then said, “May I show you the finished sketch?”
Michael looked at Emma. “Emma?”
She nodded.
“Is this him?” Burns asked, holding the sketchpad up to Emma.
She gasped. “Yes. My God. Thatishim!” She looked at Michael, her eyes filled with fear, her face so pale that he thought she might faint.
“Water, please,” Michael said, swiftly moving to her side and crouching by her chair. Taking her hand, he chafed it between his own.
Celia poured a glass of water and handed it to Emma. “Take a few sips,” she said gently, taking the empty seat next to her.
Emma sipped the water and then took a slow, deep breath. “I’m all right. Thank you.”
Michael stood and asked to see the sketch. He perused the image but didn’t recognize the man depicted. “Armstrong, Wright, do you recognize him?” He passed the sketch to his friends.
“My God! Idoknow this man,” Armstrong said. “It’s been nagging at me for a while now.”
“Who is he?” Wright asked.
“May I see?” Lady Beadle said, making her way to their side. Armstrong handed her the sketch. “Good Lord! I know that man. He’s the spitting image of his late father.”
“Wait, allow me,” Aunt Chippie said, clearly not wanting to be left out. “If Millie recognizes him, I will as well.”
Lady Beadle huffed but made room for Aunt Chippie. Armstrong held up the sketch.
“Oh my. Oh dear!” Aunt Chippie said, exchanging a worried glance with Lady Beadle.
“Who is it?” Michael said, his jaw clenched. This was turning into a parlor game.
“Lord Morgrave,” Armstrong said in a grim voice. “I haven’t seen him in at least a year.”
“We knew his father, Viscount Hugh Morgrave,” Lady Beadle said.
“The earl was a very popular man back in the day,” Chippie said. “He was one of the most sought-after bachelors in London. Do you recall, Millie?”
“Many a young lady vied for his attention. Not me, of course.”
