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CHAPTER1
Leah Gillet was woken up by smoke permeating her nostrils, like a pair of heinous talons, digging right into her flesh. Her eyes widened in shock, blinking heavily. Her first realization was horrific. It was the middle of the night, and she was in an unknown bedchamber!
She lifted her hand to her forehead, and without warning, a thousand little shreds of pain assaulted her mind. The place she was touching blossomed with agony, like a bruise that was yet to become vengeful. The entire room was spinning about her, and there was a strange taste in her dry mouth. She could not for the life of her, remember what she had for dinner or why her lips were so dry.
Suddenly, someone coughed next to her, pulling her out of the turmoil of her thoughts. She immediately realized that he, too was just woken up by the smoke, which seemed to ooze under the door right into the bedchamber, which seemed to belong to him.
"Where am I?" she demanded as she jumped out of bed, but with the entire gravity of the situation, that seemed to be a question second in priority. The first one was, of course, where the fire was coming from.
The man seemed not to have heard her, or if he had, he ignored her. Instead, he got up from the bed and looked around. To her utter shock, Leah realized that they were both dressed in their nightclothes, as if they had lain together, and...gasp!
She pressed her hand to her lips in horror. That could not be. She had no idea how she ended up here, but she knew that something was dreadfully wrong. When the man turned to her, she recognized him instantly.
"You!" she shouted through the smoke that was now inside her mouth, endeavoring to find its way down to her lungs and suffocate her. She coughed loudly, trying to banish the smoke from her body, but it was frighteningly persistent, clawing its way inside and down, making it increasingly more difficult to breathe.
She knew who he was. What she did not know was how on Earth she got here. How did they end up here, together? And where was that smoke coming from? Something was on fire. Who set that fire? Was it him?
She pulled away instinctively at the thought. He was staring at her, not saying a word, his eyes focused on her as if he, too was seeing her for the first time, unable to figure out why she was here.It could all be a clever ruse,she reminded herself.Do not trust him!
"We can't stay here!" she suddenly heard him say.
He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her toward the door. The touch of his hand felt warm. She imagined it was hotter than the fire itself. Her bare feet flew off of the floor as he pulled her after him, with her thoughts in a torrent of questions, none of which had any answers. She still had no idea how she ended up here. Petrified, she realized that she could barely remember anything after having dinner with her father, the Earl of Moore. No matter how hard she tried to remember, her mind simply closed itself, like a stubborn clam, refusing to shed any light on this mystery.
The man pushed the door open. She realized that there was even more smoke here, in the corridor than in the chamber they escaped from just now. Darkness reigned all around them. She squinted, in an effort to steady her gaze, but that didn't help much. Her eyes stung from the pinch of the smoke. Gently, she tried to tug her hand away from the man's grip, but he would not let go of her.
"We have to go downstairs and warn everyone about the fire!" he told her, with such familiarity as if they had known each other all their lives, and it was customary for them to help each other at such crucial moments.
Before she could say or ask anything, he pulled her downstairs. She flew after him even faster this time, her bare feet barely touching the ground, as if she had grown wings in a span of several moments. She could hear him cough. She noticed that he didn't put his hand over his mouth, which would have been the polite thing to do. Although this was no moment for politeness. As he said, they needed to warn everyone in Repington Mansion that there was a fire.
The ground floor was thick with smoke. Leah could hear several people coughing somewhere in the distance, then the sound of doors opening, and running footsteps.
"Do you think the staff is all up?" she asked the man. She seemed to have forgotten all about the utter impropriety of her being here in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. Instead, she was focused on the lives of people under this roof, who were all in danger, just like she herself was.
"That is what we need to see," he replied, as they were running in the direction of the oncoming footsteps.
When he turned around for a moment, she remembered everything about this man. His name. His reputation. The tarnish that he wore like a blemish on his skin, visible to everyone who knew him, and even to those who did not, because bad news traveled fast, and bad reputations always preceded one's appearance.
He barged through closed doors, to find several of the servants huddled together, looking confused. Their eyes all befell him as soon as he appeared, with Leah by the hand.
"Is everyone here?" he demanded, breathless, as the smoke seemed to permeate every nook and cranny of the chamber.
"No, Your Grace," a man who had the stance and the voice of a butler replied.
He did not even look at Leah. She knew that should be the least of her concerns right now, but she could not help but feel relieved that no one was questioning her presence here. After all, she was not the Duke of Repington's friend. She was merely a neighbor. At least, her father was. Their families had never been close, not because of any particular reason, but rather because the duke's parents were extremely busy people who were focused on their business and their travels, and they had very little time for socializing, unless it was demanded of them.
"Who is still missing?" the duke inquired hastily.
"Mrs. Plath, the cook," the butler replied equally quickly.
"Is she still in the servants' quarters?" the duke asked. Only now did he release Leah from his grip, as something else occupied his attention.
"I do believe so, Your Grace," the butler nodded. "If she had come through the West Wing, I would have seen her."
"Take all the servants outside, Huntley," the duke ordered his butler, who immediately nodded in confirmation. This time, his inquisitive gaze fell on the woman who was standing by the side of His Grace. Leah wondered if he would ask something. If that were the case, what was she to reply?
Fortunately, the duke seized control of the situation once again. "Takeeveryonewith you," he instructed, gesturing silently at Leah as well.
A part of her was grateful for this. Then, she realized that he did not have the slightest idea who she was, or else he would have referred to her by her name, would he not? Perhaps, he was merely pretending that he did not recognize her. She could not have changed so much in the past several years, when she blossomed from a girl into a young woman. Then again, she–
