An Affair So Right (Rebel Hearts #4)(8)

Proof of suicide, a crime in common law, could have the Daltons’ remaining property seized and forfeited to the crown. Without the support of good friends, the Dalton women would become outcasts in society in a matter of days, if not hours.

Seeing fresh men arriving to attend the blaze, he pulled his wilting valet aside, impressed he’d been fighting the fire along with everyone else. “You’ve done enough, Rodmell.”

“Are you sure?”

Rodmell wasn’t a particularly robust man; he’d more skill for knotting cravats than working up a sweat. He pointed around them. The building was unstable now, too. “The rest of the work will be bloody dangerous.”

“As you say, my lord,” Rodmell said. He sagged, clearly exhausted.

“Go inside and clean up, then make sure the Dalton ladies are comfortable while I see what’s to be done with salvage. Tell the housekeeper to house and feed their servants, too, as I send them in. And keep them away from the windows if you can.”

“Yes, my lord.” Rodmell hurried away.

Quinn didn’t want them to see Dalton’s body removed.

Deacon reappeared, seemingly out of breath. It was such a relief to see him return that Quinn collapsed against the nearest object of support to catch his breath. “I thought you’d gone.”

“I thought I saw an old acquaintance in the crowd, but I must have imagine it. Never mind. Are you all right?” Deacon asked.

“Yes,” Quinn confirmed, taking stock of himself. He’d suffered no harm but this tragedy, today of all days, had hit him hard. “You should head home.”

“Are you sure I should leave you? I heard it was a…” Deacon didn’t say suicide, but he implied it by his silence.

“I’m sure it wasn’t. I’m sure the two deaths have nothing in common.”

Deacon opened his mouth but then closed it again. He shook his head. “About what I asked you for help with earlier…”

Quinn patted the man’s shoulder. They’d briefly spoken of Deacon’s request in the carriage already, enough to know he was sorely needed for moral support as Deacon pursued a bride. “Deacon, it would be an honor to help you find a wife, but let’s not spread that about. I’m sure you will find the perfect woman soon enough.”

Deacon nodded. “Someone smart.”

“Someone kind,” Quinn countered, slightly pained by the request made to him earlier that night. What was wrong with Deacon? He was titled and had money enough to make any woman he liked notice him. Women should be flocking to catch his eye. “You have a right to marry anyone so long as they deserve you.”

“If you say so.”

“I do indeed. Now get yourself home to bed and leave me to think over the matter for the next few days,” Quinn promised. They shook hands, and Quinn sent him on his way.

Once alone, Quinn surveyed the smoking ruin, his mood sinking. He could see far better now than he had at the height of the blaze, and it did not look promising. The outbuildings had survived unscathed but not the house. Most of the flames had been reduced to smoking timbers within the three-story dwelling. What was left to burn, the local brigade was doing a thorough job of dousing with water. He headed toward the local magistrate, a man he’d not had reason to speak to before today, and introduced himself.

“My lord. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance. Mitchell Banks.” They shook hands. “Bad business, this,” the man remarked.

“It is. There could be a body inside.”

Banks deflated. “None has been found yet.”

“The daughter thought her father, Mr. Millard Dalton, might have been in the library. East side at the front, that would be.”

Banks pursed his lips a moment. “Fire was worst there.”

“I noticed that too.” He nodded. He’d known saving the house was hopeless as soon as he’d burst from his carriage after returning from the Newberry House dinner with Lord Deacon. “Whatever your men find, I want for Dalton’s widow. She’s resting in the house behind us, my home, at present. I’ll provide you with her new direction as soon as they decide where they are to go next.”

“Rest assured, you can always count on me to do the right thing, my lord. Could take my men a few days to search such a large dwelling, though. What we find of value will be sent over to them immediately, of course. The Dalton’s were prosperous people, I hear, and there is always a lot of light fingers around a wealthy home unfortunately. We’ll post men to guard the place tonight, too.” A cart rolled up. “Ah, looks like the vicar heard the news. I’d best have him cool his heels while we dig a bit deeper into the rubble.”

Quinn glanced around and noticed Mr. Small had already been taken away for burial. Since the Dalton women knew the man, he called the magistrate back to him. “Mrs. Dalton might wish to pay her respects. Where was Mr. Small taken?”

“Who?”

“The other man who died here.”

Banks’ eyebrows rose in surprise. “No one mentioned another body to me?”

“Dalton’s man died right there.” He pointed to the bare patch of pavement the poor fellow had previously occupied. He glanced at his pocket watch to check the time. “He died…oh, it must have been no more than an hour ago now.”