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Chavers nodded knowingly, as if he’d heard all of James’s questions and answers. “She was looking for you.”
James turned to Clara. Instead of submitting to his yearning to draw her into his arms and go back to sleep entwined, he stared down at his bandaged hands.
“She tended you,” Chavers commented again.
James’s lips flattened as he pondered this.What is she doing here?
He flexed a hand painfully, then regretted it.
She came for me.
He shrugged away the idea. She was, after all, an aristocrat trying to help the unfortunate. And in this case, that included him.
“At the moment, there’s sufficient distraction and tragedy about, so her ministrations are neither amiss nor notable. Everyone is exhausted. But tomorrow, faculties will return and anyone within a square mile of the two of you will see her concern for you. And yours for her.”
“I’ll fetch another drink,” said James, standing up as quickly as he could. Which wasn’t terribly fast. He felt battered; his eyes and lungs burned.
He took in Clara’s sleeping form once more for edification before seeking out a place to refill the cup.
When he returned, he knew the proper topic to change Chavers’s focus. “Tomorrow, once everyone’s had some rest, the only issue on people’s minds will be assigning blame for the fire. You heard Beavis and White. Those two are convinced we’re responsible for this.” He waved a bandaged hand expansively. “With their reputations”—James meant their positive reputations—“many will believe them.”
“There will be an enquiry. Whatever gossip is uttered now, it’s the results of the enquiry that will count.”
“Rumor and innuendo are as important as facts, at least in the beginning.” He made a disgusted sound. “And that’s assuming any inquiry will reveal true facts.” He stretched out a painful leg in front of him. “The insurance company will jump on the accusations as an excuse not to pay. Or at least delay payment.”
“True, true.”
“If this fire was set intentionally, and I ever find out who the hell is responsible, so help me…” James’s hands flexed expressively. He cringed at the pain the movement caused.
Chavers nodded in agreement, looking around at the damage and suffering. “You are not the only one, James.”
“What time is it?” James asked tiredly.
Chavers reached into his jacket and fished around the inner pocket, looking grateful to find his watch still there. He opened it carefully. “Quarter past one o’clock.” He stifled a yawn.
“Let us rest a wee bit more,” James suggested, already lying back down.
Chavers tucked his watch back in for safekeeping and settled onto his blanket as well. Within a minute, he was asleep again.
As James drifted toward unconsciousness, his hand sought Clara’s. Gently placing his injured, wrapped hand in hers, he held hers as if she was the only anchor capable of preventing him from sailing into despair.
∞∞∞
Clara awakened with a start. She was sprawled on her side, on the ground, only a rough blanket under her. James lay facing her on his own blanket.
His hand held hers where their blankets met.
Unsure of how long she or he had slept, she was hesitant to wake him—yet she couldn’t stay away. Inching closer, mindful that they were not alone, she moved until she touched his battered face ever so softly with a fingertip.
“James,” she said in a tiny whisper, not meant for anyone to hear, or to wake him. “You’re safe. I’m here.” Her words reassured herself as much as him.
His eyes opened, and she pulled her hand back. “Oh!”
“Oh,” he croaked in return. He reached for her hand again. “What are you doing here, lass?”
Not even a burning inferno can keep me away from you.
Her eyes dropped. “The LLS has modest resources, but resources nonetheless. I couldn’t in any good conscience withhold them when they were so needed.” She spoke quietly, ever mindful that they were in a tent full of people.
