and before he knew it, his whole body shook with cold.
“Christ,” he muttered, and was startled to see his breath drifting through the air like a puff of white smoke. He exhaled again, then glanced toward the foot of his bed and instantly stiffened. “Katrina?”
Instead of responding, she floated away, vanishing through his bedchamber door. “Help her.” The hollow moan breathing next to his ear spurred him into motion. His heart, momentarily paralyzed by disbelief, resumed its rhythm with greater force. He leapt from his bed and flung his robe over his shoulders, shoving his arms through the sleeves and tying the sash as he went.
Christ! The hallway seemed ten times longer than usual, his strides too short to satisfy his need for haste. With a muttered curse he broke into a run, racing toward whatever horror awaited. But nothing prepared him for what he would find when he reached the wide open landing from which the grand marble staircase descended. His heart thrashed about like a trapped bird, and his breaths squeezed tight in his throat, lumping together as he moved toward the railing and peered down into the foyer.
Instinct told him what he would find but the sight of sprawled limbs, charred clothing, and chestnut hair strewn across hard marble sent shivers racing up over his arms and across his back. The hair at the nape of his neck stood on end and his blood froze in his veins. No. His stomach twisted as if a rough hand had reached through him to wring out his insides.
Crouched by Angelica’s side, Clarkson, his butler, looked up from below. His eyes… Randolph felt time slowing, slipping away and spinning frantically out of control. And then Clarkson said it. “I’m sorry, my lord, but I’m afraid she’s dead.”
Everything inside Randolph revolted, tearing through him with violent emotion until a choked roar of protest escaped his parched throat. “No. She can’t be,” he shouted, directing his anger and pain at his butler.
The man merely stared back at him with a wrinkled brow and grey eyes full of regret. Angelica’s lifeless body lay at his feet, the spot of blood next to her head like a ghastly signature on a macabre painting.
Randolph started forward. It was like wading through water, yet he knew only one thing and that was he had to reach her. He had to… Dear God, she couldn’t be dead. Not when he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it, not when he longed for her to tell him she hated his home, his food, hell even his company if that were true. But it wasn’t. She’d already told him she wanted to be his wife, and that was what was supposed to happen, not this. Never this. Not when…
His vision blurred and he grabbed hold of the railing, clinging to it for support while his heart started crumbling. He loved her. He loved her so damn much he—
“What’s happening? Is everything all right?”
Heaven help him, he’d forgotten about Angelica’s mother. He turned, intent on reaching her before she saw, but his feet would not move fast enough and his shaking limbs refused to work as they ought.
“Lady Bloomfield,” he tried, “You must not—
But it was too late. Her face came into view, and he saw the moment she registered what must have happened. A wail, so painful it drove through him like a knife, splintered the air. The poor woman nearly collapsed, her legs buckling beneath her until she half hung, half leaned against the edge of the staircase.
“I will bring her to her room.” Randolph had no idea how he managed to get the words out, but seeing Lady Bloomfield’s suffering told him he had to figure out how to handle the situation someway. He was, after all, the master of Colchester Hall. Angelica had been his guest and…
He swallowed against the knot squeezing his throat.
She should have been so much more.
Slowly, he released his grip on the railing and continued down the stairs. His pace was careful and measured, as if reaching her and confirming her state for himself would make it more real. Ignoring the rapid click of approaching footsteps, he finally knelt by her side and brushed his thumb over her cheek.
“I heard a scream,” Mrs. Essex said from somewhere behind him. “Is…” She gasped. “Oh dear lord. What on earth happened?”
Unable to speak, Randolph simply shook his head and scooped Angelica into his arms. The hem of her nightgown was burned all the