Page 40 of To Heal a Broken Earl
“Well, not me, either,” Chippie echoed, flipping open a small fan attached to her wrist and fanning herself. “What no one knew was that he was a gambler who lost his family’s entire fortune. Not only that, but he also frequented many houses of ill repute.”
“What happened to his son?” Wright asked.
“The viscount’s wife took their young son to Scotland to live with her family,” Lady Beadle said. “After they lost the townhouse. They’d already lost all the unentailed properties. Their estate home had been neglected and fell into disrepair.”
“What happened to the viscount?” Emma asked, her voice trembling. Celia wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders.
Michael wished he could do that for her. He cleared his throat.
Aunt Chippie and Lady Beadle exchanged a glance. “He died destitute at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital of a terrible disease—I’m sure you can guess, which one,” Lady Beadle said gravely.
Syphilis,Michael thought.
Burns handed Michael a second sketch that looked identical to the first one. “I’ll take one of these sketches with me back to London first thing tomorrow and notify all the authorities,” he said, carefully folding the drawing and slipping it into his coat.
“By all accounts, the apple may not have fallen far from the tree,” Lady Beadle said.
“Opium,” Aunt Chippie added.
“We already knew we were dealing with a dangerous man,” Michael said. “Now that we know who he is, we need to find him before he strikes again.”
~*~
Chapter Sixteen
The next day
Emma sat in the chair in her room, staring at the fire waning in her fireplace. Her head was spinning. So many thoughts churned in her head. So many feelings swirled in her heart. Burns’s efforts the night before had miraculously produced a drawing of the man who had burned her sister’s home. The home that she and Katie had barely escaped with their lives. Last night, Emma found out the arsonist had retaliated against Lady Beadle for sheltering Emma and Katie, burning her prized carriage house.
Thank God no one was hurt, and Lady Beadle’s house was mostly untouched. Lady Beadle had assured her over and over that everyone was fine.
She thought about the drawing.It’s him. I’ll never forget that evil smirk. And his eyes were like black pits—soulless.Even though she’d only glimpsed the man briefly, she was certain that the shadowy figure who’d watched her and Katie the night of the fire was him. She’d felt it down deep in her bones.
Being at Michael’s estate these past few weeks had made her and Katie feel safe, and like the fire had been a distant memory. Everyone had made them feel welcome. Emma had been so busy helping with the refurbishing efforts, and Katie was thriving with the devoted Finn by her side. The bond that had formed between them was almost magical. It gave Emma such happiness to watch them.
But when she’d set eyes on that sketch, it had all come rushing back to her full force, throwing her back to that night. The fear. The terror. The danger.
And when her eyes met Michael’s, all she wanted to do was to feel his arms around her. But that was not to be. Certainlynot in front of all those people, and definitely not after their argument the other day. He had lashed out at her when all she had tried to do was mask the odor of the salve so it could help him. She could see the remorse in his eyes. But, well…remorse was not an apology.
Emma stood and walked to the hearth, stoking the fire to a low flame, before returning to her chair. He’sout there, and he knows what Katie and I look like.And now, we know exactly what he looks like.She could not help the shiver of fear that coursed through her.
She no longer felt safe at Michael’s estate.
Burns’s sketch was more than just a drawing; it served as a reminder of the smoke that stung her lungs that night, the frantic chaos of their escape. Now, the arsonist had a face, filling in the missing piece of the nightmare crafted by that flesh-and-blood madman. And he had a name—Viscount Gideon Morgrave.
A shudder skittered up her spine.
“Lady Beadle’s fire was small in comparison to the others,”Lord Armstrong had said last night as he’d spoken in hushed tones with Wright and Michael. Emma had overheard them speaking in Michael’s study on her way back from checking on Katie.
“He may have used the fire as a way to drive Lady Beadle away from London…”Armstrong had added.
“You mean to say he might have used the fire as a ruse to follow you to Sussex?”Michael had said in a steely voice.
“We were very careful on the journey,” Armstrong had said calmly. “But I am concerned. We need to be even more vigilant.”
“What a bastard,”Wright had said.
“I heard him that night at the inn,” Armstrong had continued. “His lies were smooth and compelling. Had we notalready been able to count the innkeeper and his wife as reliable informants, I don’t think your escape would have gone as smoothly.”
