Page 77 of Love with a Notorious Rake

They set out at dawn, a group of the unlikeliest men you could imagine: Aidan, Samuel, Delaney, and Muggeridge, along with Carter Rokesmith. The queen’s man informed them he’d sent a message to Leicester last night, and a contingent of soldiers was arriving at the mill presently.

Carter led them to the edge of the property, a flat piece of ground nestled between clusters of oak trees. It afforded them a modicum of privacy. Samuel and Delaney began to dig. Aidan removed his coat, rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a shovel, and assisted.

They hadn’t excavated far before Delaney said, “I’ve hit something.” He cleared away loose dirt and discovered a canvas sack. Delaney opened it. Inside was the desiccated corpse of a child. “Bloody hell,” he murmured.

Aidan was sickened. “We had best keep digging.”

* * * *

Cristyn arrived at the clinic shortly after dawn. Carter had departed to lead Aidan and the others to the grave he’d spoken of the night before. For two hours she kept busy attending patients; she set a young boy’s broken humerus, treated a woman’s cut from slicing meat, and attended to Lottie, who thankfully had made it through the night. With a few moments to herself, she sipped a cup a tea, and her thoughts turned to her sensual encounter with Aidan. Heavens, she was truly playing with fire. But she was not ashamed. Not of her actions, and not of her feelings. She was in love, and no matter how this concluded, she would never, ever regret saying and showing how she truly felt.

A commotion in the front of the clinic caught her attention. She set the mug upon the table and hurried toward the noise. A man who was waiting to be treated stood and headed for the door. Outside, a number of people scurried past. “What is going on?” she asked.

The man turned to face her. “My brother came in and said there’s a to-do at the mill. Soldiers. Men digging in the ground. Master’s yelling at the overlooker, who be in the thick of it. Going to be a fight, I’ll be bound.” He exited the clinic and followed the crowd.

Oh, no. Her expression must have reflected her worry, for Paris said, “Go to him. I will stay with Lottie.”

Lifting her skirt, she stepped outside, then followed the rush toward the mill. Her heart was in her throat. Surely the soldiers would not allow the situation to deteriorate to such a state that two men would exchange blows.

Arriving on the scene minutes later, she observed three soldiers holding back the gathering crowd. Cristyn pushed her way forward. A number of men stood on the corner of the mill property, with McRae and Aidan inches apart, shouting. Another man with gray hair and spectacles was trying without much success to place distance between them.

With a few quick dodges, Cristyn slipped through the throng and eluded one of the soldiers. Nearing the scene, she stopped in her tracks, her hand flying to her mouth in shock—for on the ground she counted eight burlap sacks. One was open, showing a corpse. Considering the size, it was as Carter described: a child. Neglected, buried, and forgotten. Tears formed in her eyes.

“You miserable bastard!” Aidan roared. He grabbed McRae’s neckcloth. “You cold-blooded, murdering whoreson!”

“They died of injuries and sickness,” McRae sneered, spittle flying across Aidan’s cheek.

“Fire!” someone screamed. Other voices joined in.

Dear God, what next?

More people joined in raising the alarm, pointing frantically toward the mill. Aidan released McRae and they glanced in that direction. The residence portion of the mill was on fire. Smoke poured out of the closed windows, as they were obviously not well-sealed. One of the windows shattered and flames whooshed forward, causing the crowd to gasp and shout.

“My son!” McRae yelled.

“Your wife is in there too?” Aidan questioned.

“Yes. Oh, God!”

The gray-haired man called to the soldiers, “Make sure those inside the mill make it to safety!”

The soldiers nodded and ran with all haste toward the main entrance.

Unlike the mill’s brick exterior, the residence was wood-framed. The structure was quickly being consumed by the roaring blaze, which grew in intensity with each passing minute.

It occurred to Cristyn what Aidan was about to do. No. He would be hurt, or killed. “Aidan, no!” she cried out.

He stopped, met her gaze, gave her a regretful smile, then ran toward the inferno.

She was about to head after him, but a strong hand held her arm, halting her.

“No, miss. I’ll go. I’ll watch out for him.”

She gazed up into the rough face of Delaney. His eyes reflected sadness, and her heart ached. Words would not form; all she could do was nod.

Delaney fell in behind Aidan. They disappeared around the rear of the building, and Cristyn’s blood froze in her veins. The crowd attempted to move forward, but a few soldiers—along with the gray-haired man and a younger one, who must have been Aidan’s Samuel—kept them at bay.

Carter ran to her, his expression reflecting the worry she felt. Cristyn slipped her arm about his shoulder.