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“The wood is too heavy for me to lift, Alfie. I must go for help.”

“No!” His voice broke. “Don’ l-l-leave me, miss. Don’ leave me ’ere alone.”

Hannah scoured the area around her. Was there another piece of wood she could use as leverage? She crawled forward, groping for anything that might help her. Suddenly, the darkness lightened, and she raised her head to see a swirl of glowing sparks appear in the dark hole torn from the roof above her head. With horror and helplessness, she watched the miniature orange lights spiral downward and land on the fractured staircase.

“The fire!” the boy cried, pushing against the wood that trapped him with frenzied jerking motions. “It’s ’ere!”

The moment Samuel, Jealous, and Clarke reached the wharf, they separated. Jealous headed directly for the wharf clerk’s office, Clarke made for the blazing warehouse, and Samuel raced toward the waiting carriage. With the fading light and smoky conditions, he had not immediately identified the vehicle. But he’d recognized Prescott right away. The tall, thin man had his hands firmly on the two horses’ bridles and was attempting to keep them calm amid the confusion all around them.

“Prescott!” Samuel shouted, coming up behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“Tryin’ t’ keep the ’orses from boltin’, Mr. Ross,” he said. “I ’ave t’ be ready t’ go as soon as Mr. Dennington gets back.”

“Where is he?” Surely he wasn’t caught up in the chaos farther down the wharf. The gentleman could hardly be helpful; he was still using a cane.

“’E went after Miss Dennington.”

Samuel’s stomach dropped. The possibility that Hannah was anywhere near the fire filled him with unprecedented fear. “Miss Dennington is on the wharf?”

“Yes, sir. She an’ Mr. Dennington were ’ere doin’ business when the fires started. She went back t’ check on their warehouse, an’ Mr. Dennington went after ’er.”

Samuel did not wait to hear more. He took off running.

Within seconds, he was close enough to the Denningtons’ warehouse to see that it remained unscathed by the nearby fire. His relief, however, was quickly offset by the dreadful vision before him. What had likely started as a small blaze in the nearby warehouse had become an inferno. Like dark specters, numberless people flitted in and out of the fire’s light, some passing buckets of water, others shouting and hurrying from one place to another.

“Dear heaven,” Samuel whispered. “How will I ever find her in this?”

He cut left, avoiding the first line of people passing buckets. A handful of the volunteers were women, he noticed. But none were dressed in the wide silk gowns Hannah wore. He kept moving, his eyes stinging as the smoke became thicker. He blinked, straining to identify people not more than a yard or two from him. At his right, a man began to cough. Samuel glanced at him. The gentleman was well dressed. His head was down, his hands tightly grasping the top of a walking stick.

“Dennington!” Samuel yelled, reaching for the gentleman’s arm and guiding him away from the burning building. “You must move back if you are to have any hope of breathing properly.”

“Hannah is out here!” Dennington’s voice was hoarse, his gait uneven.

“I will find her,” Samuel assured him. “Go back to the carriage.”

Another bout of coughing racked the gentleman’s body. “I c-c-cannot leave her,” he gasped.

“You must,” Samuel shouted. “You do not have the strength to keep looking. Let me do it for you. Where have you checked?”

“My warehouse,” he gasped. “And the bucketlines. I could see no sign of her near the front of the building.”

“But you are sure she came this way?”

“Yes. I watched her go.”

Samuel scanned the chaos before him, desperate for a glimpse of Hannah’s beautiful face. He knew full well that if she was in the vicinity, she would not be viewing the disaster from a distance; she would be in the middle of it, helping. But if she was not in the bucketlines, where could she be?

Dennington doubled over with another coughing attack. Samuel set a hand on the gentleman’s elbow in an attempt to guide him farther from the fire and its accompanying smoke, but Dennington pushed him away.

“Find her, Ross,” he croaked. “I beg of you! I can make my own way back to the carriage, but I cannot go after her.”

Chapter 24

Hannah could not last much longer. She’d been alternately attempting to raise the wood that held Alfie captive and stomping out the smoldering sparks that threatened to grow into flames when they landed. Initially, Alfie’s pleas had motivated her to keep trying to free him. Then fear that the sparks would develop into flames had kept her at his side. With her strength almost completely spent, she had now accepted the awful realization that neither of them would survive unless they received help.

“Alfie,” she gasped. “I must fetch others. It is the only way.”

“You’ll not come back,” Alfie sobbed. “No one ever c-c-comes back fer me.”