“Being a bloody fool.” The earl wiped his face with a handkerchief.
Sirens pealed. The fire brigade worked around the building with tall sprays of water from the hydraulic pumps, but she doubted any part of the theatre could be saved. Other survivorsaround her coughed and shivered. Some showed nasty burns on the face and neck. At least she wasn’t seriously injured, thanks to Royston. She doubted she would have lasted long without his help.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd as another part of the roof collapsed. She clamped a hand over her mouth. Where was Royston?
“Oh, no.” Mama hugged her. “That poor man.”
The earl hung his head, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.
Angeline exhaled when Royston came out of the door, carrying an unconscious young man. A small entourage of people, all coughing and crying, thanked the footman, calling him a hero. He deposited the young man on the kerb next to the others before rushing back inside.
“No!” she shouted at the same time as the earl said, “Stay here. It’s an order.”
But Royston didn’t listen.
When the roof collapsed completely, she regretted not having had the opportunity to thank him.
