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“James.” Michael’s voice was quiet, but James heard it above the hubbub for they were so close. Ignoring the cracks and heavy thuds of the building falling apart, he jumped off the wall and crouched down beside his friend. “She’d come running if she was here. Anyone would when you shout like that.”
James grimaced as he looked at his friend.
“You need a doctor. Lean on me.” He pulled Michael to his feet once more, urging Michael to put his weight fully upon him. “I’m not giving up, Michael, not for anything.” He dragged his friend toward his carriage out the back of the building where the driver was standing, staring at the burning building, the flames practically dancing in his eyes. “Take Michael to the nearest physician or doctor you can find.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The driver jumped to the task. Before Michael closed the carriage door, he latched a hand onto James’ wrist, gripping it tight. “What is it?”
“I saw a masked man in there,” Michael said, his voice deathly quiet. “He was the one setting fire to the place. That seems to match the description of the man who attacked Marina before, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” James nodded, knowing exactly what Michael was trying to warn him about. “He could have taken her. Go to the doctor. I will find her.”
He closed the door and watched the carriage drive away before he circled the building, watching as it became just ruins on the earth, the top floor plunging into the bottom. He shielded himself from the spitting ash and smoke, hurrying back with the crowd.
Staring at those ruins, he thought of the last time he had been in that upstairs bedchamber with Marina. The way they had explored one another, discovering such pleasure, had been a great thrill. It was the growing of their intimacy. That moment somehow seemed in tatters now, to see the room destroyed so.
No, Marina is not gone. I shall find her again.
When the constables appeared, asking what had happened, James grabbed the nearest one. He introduced himself, talked of what Michael had seen of the arsonist, then revealed the worst.
“My wife is missing,” he said to the constable, a man not dissimilar in age to himself, who had introduced himself as Constable Jones.
“You are certain, Your Grace?” the man asked, his face setting in severe lines.
“Yes. I can’t find her anywhere. I left her here.” He pointed to a place on the pavement beside them. “She was attacked in her carriage just yesterday, and now, this? Her attacker then was a masked man.”
The constable nodded, understanding the danger and clearly not questioning James again.
“Listen, Your Grace, here is what we are going to do.”
James was surprised to find there was a protocol for someone who had gone missing. Some constables were sent to the nearest coaching inns, stable houses, and doctors, all to see if any of them had seen any sign of Marina. It was just possible that if she had been kidnapped, her attacker might take a horse and flee London.
“We will continue the search all night and tomorrow. I’ll have constables patrolling –” Jones had to break off as the last of the building collapsed. James stepped back, out of the way of the debris and danger. The constable held out an arm as if wishing to protect James from the fire. “I am sorry, Your Grace. To see your business gone… so quickly.”
James stared uncertainly at the fallen building, the flames slowly dying out as the fire service began to throw water onto the remains. For the business, he felt a strange numb feeling in his chest.
“It’s just a building, only a business.” It didn’t matter to him, not at all. Such things could be rebuilt, and even if he couldn’t rebuild it, he could find another way to make money. He’d done it before, he could do it again, and he had enough money now in investments to keep him going for a long time without it.
None of that matters. None of it!
“I don’t care about the building,” he said in realization, turning to face the constable. “Not one bit. All I care about is finding my wife.”
“I give you my word, Your Grace,” Constable James said, his London accent thick as he bowed, “we will help you find her.” He backed up, calling to his constables to begin the search.
James reached for the nearest wall and held himself up with the palm of his hand, staring at the empty space on the pavement where Marina should have been.
Where are you, Marina?
* * *
“Well?” Michael called from the large settee in James’ study as he burst back into the room.
James hovered in the doorway for a minute, feeling the sunlight streaming through his window was too bright for comfort. He shielded his eyes against the brightness as he stepped into the room, leaning upon his desk for support.
“You’re exhausted,” Michael observed, lifting his head a little off the arm of the settee.
“You should look in a mirror,” James retorted quickly, his eyes darting over his friend. When nothing could be found of Marina the night before, James had sought the nearest doctor to search for his friend. Michael had a concussion, but he would be fine. Not wanting to leave him alone, James had brought Michael back to his house. Michael had risen early from his bed and laid on this settee, wishing to be more useful than he could be.
“What did the constable say?” Michael asked.
