Stages of Desire by Julia Tagan Page B

unbearable.
    Harriet grabbed any vessel she could find, a small barrel, a watering can, a pail, and filled each with water, then did the same with the empty buckets the men brought back. She wore only her thin nightgown, and was soon drenched with water and slick with sweat, but she didn’t care. She had to save Lord Abingdon or Marianne and the duchess would never forgive her. Nor would she forgive herself.
    Very slowly at first, one side of the barn began to collapse. Harriet screamed out a warning, but she was too far away for it to be heard. The building fell slowly, turning in upon itself, like a cake taken too soon out of the oven. Embers flew up into the inky darkness.
    â€œIt’s all right.”
    It was Lord Abingdon. Without thinking, Harriet threw herself into his arms. She held him tightly, breathing in the scent of smoke and hay. “You made it out.”
    Lord Abingdon pulled out of her embrace and stared down at her. Her wet nightgown clung to her body.
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “My lord, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? Is everyone else safe?”
    â€œYes. We’re fine. We even saved the horses.”
    Freddie ran up. “The fire brigade is here!”
    Harriet held Freddie’s face between her two hands, then hugged him to her. Her knees almost gave way from relief. The men were safe, and her brother was by her side. “Freddie, what on earth are you doing here?”
    He gently pulled out of her reach. “No time to explain now, we’ve got to keep at it if we’re going to keep the cottage safe. This wind could prove hazardous.”
    The two men took off running toward the clanging fire wagon. Within moments, dozens of people clambered around, shouting out instructions. Harriet retreated across the street to where Miss Entwhistle and Mrs. Kembler trembled in the grass. For several minutes chaos ensued, until Lord Abingdon took charge and pandemonium was replaced by order. Even dressed in a pair of breeches and a nightshirt, with no outward sign of his rank, he held a natural command over the rest of the men, with not a movement nor a word wasted.
    â€œEveryone made it out, they escaped.” Harriet held the two women close as a miraculous rain began to fall.
    * * * *
    By the time the sun rose, the barn was a smoldering heap surrounded by ankle-deep mud. The rain had arrived in time to extinguish the worst of the flames. A lucky turn of events, as the members of the fire brigade appeared to be quite drunk from the night’s earlier festivities.
    Once the job was finished, the brigade and the rest of the townspeople took their leave. In the tepid light of a cloudy dawn, the Farley Players rummaged around the ruins to see if there was anything to be saved. Harriet’s valise had been already packed on Lord Abingdon’s carriage and she’d hoped she might be able to salvage it. But the carriage itself was burned to a crisp, as was the company’s wagon, costumes, backdrops, props and sets. All turned to ash. The only thing she had left, besides her muslin gown, was her father’s book of sonnets, which she’d been reading in bed before she fell asleep.
    For now, she wore one of Adam’s old overcoats, which Lord Abingdon had placed over her shoulders at some point during the night, covering up her flimsy nightgown.
    She looked across the ruin. “At least the cottage was saved.”
    â€œAye, and the horses and livestock are fine.” Adam put his hands on his lower back and stretched. “And we’re safe, which is the most important thing.”
    â€œIt was close,” said Toby. “If Freddie hadn’t shown up, I don’t know what we’d have done.”
    â€œWhere is Freddie?” asked Harriet.
    â€œLast I saw, he was going into the cottage.” Toby nodded in the general direction.
    Harriet turned away from the rubble. In the moment of crisis, she hadn’t had time to think, never mind