Bring Forth a Fire (Book 1)

Twenty - Gathering Storm

When I finally made it around to telling Grandmother everything that had happened, she was alternately appalled and horrified. She trusted the Wellington family, but it was the Kingsleys' conduct that she balked at.

"Are you saying he actually took off his clothes in front of you?" Her face had drained of colour when I'd mentioned it, and stayed that way when I'd finished. "And made you watch?"

"I wouldn't quite put it that way, Grandmother," I said, hearing the weariness in my voice. I hadn't been sleeping well lately, often waking in a cold sweat after visions of Huntley came to me. "It was relevant, after all. And the circumstances merited it."

"Oh, all right." Grandmother sighed in indignation, but gave in. "I remember hearing the news, poor boy. He was only a child. All of you were only children."

I said nothing in reply. Arthur's assessment was completely accurate. My father had only done what he thought was best for our family, spiriting me away across the Atlantic. I wished he had taken me to see my mother just once before we left, or have sent for her when he thought it safe, but I knew he'd have refused. The risk was much too great. And it had left the other Elemental families – those prominent within the Order, anyway – to fend for themselves. My heart tugged as I thought of Christopher, irrevocably scarred by Huntley's wrath.

The eve of the day I was to give my decision to Huntley, Grandmother went against all my expectations and whisked me off to the Order. She explained that perhaps if we were to present a united front, Arthur would surely see that what he had done was improper. Her methods were quite unsubtle, but perhaps that was the point.

The man at the front desk, a little owlish bloke with spectacles called Mr Jergens, received us cordially. Briefly I recalled the times Christopher had been here in his spot, and I felt a twist in my stomach. The Order was evidently in disarray since Mr Wellington's death, and no one really knew who should answer to who.

However, as we ascended the stairs, we came across Arthur and Christopher arguing in the corridor outside Mr Wellington's former study in hissing tones.

"You realise, Arthur, that you undressed yourself in front of the very woman who is to become my wife? Who do you think you are?"

"Can't just bloody shield her from all of it, Christopher. Not like Huntley's off in some other place in some other time. This is happening here. And now."

"Don't swear in front of me." Christopher's voice was a low growl, with a dangerous edge I'd never heard before. "You and I both know that was indecent of you, and in case you forgot, I think she is well aware of what Huntley is capable of."

"Reckon I should have just told her then? A sob story to get some sympathy? We're more alike than you think, Christopher, face it." Arthur was smug, something that made a strong urge to march up to him and slap it off him rise up inside.

"You two are nothing alike, understand? She was not raised an aristocrat like you, nor was she brought up believing only pure Elemental blood is the best. She does not care about money or titles or property like you do, which I know is the reason you nearly proposed. Emma does not want your sodding title, Arthur. When will you realise that?"

"Is that really what you think?" Arthur's smugness lessened, but I could imagine him narrowing his eyes at Christopher. I caught Grandmother's expression, and I could see exactly what she was thinking: Those men are fighting over my granddaughter?

"Yes. And get it through your head, Arthur, that she accepted me, not you. She will by my wife, not yours. So I suggest you think about that the next time you decide to make a decision like that."