The Mister I Married (Romancing the Rogue #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Two hours later and Alex still hadn’t found his father. He’d searched every room in the house, every nook and cranny, before scouring the gardens, the folly, and now the stables, though he knew he wouldn’t find him here. His father did not like to be around horses.

Still, he’d had to check. Even knowing he would not be here, and that at least a dozen others had likely already searched the stables, he’d had to confirm it with his own eyes.

“Where are you, Father?” he muttered to himself, peering into an empty stall in the hopes of finding him napping there on the hay.

A low nicker sounded from the neighboring stall and Alex followed it, reaching up to stroke his favorite mount’s nose.

“Good day, Neptune,” he said, giving the large, gentle gray a scratch about the ears. “Have you any idea where my father has got to?”

The horse gave no reply, though his soft brown eyes seemed sympathetic.

Alex sighed as the worry churning in his gut—the worry he’d been steadfastly ignoring—seemed to grow and turn to lead. What if his father was injured somewhere? Or trapped and unable to free himself, stuck where no one could hear when he called out for help?

But where?

There was nothing left to do but search the grounds. His father was not a wanderer and rarely left the house, but if he was not inside, he must be outside. He only hoped he was somewhere out of the cold and rain.

“Come, Neptune,” he said, stroking the horse’s neck. “Perhaps you can help me find him.”

Alex swiftly saddled Neptune then led him from the stables on foot, pausing just outside the doors when he caught sight of his sister walking toward him.

“Here you are,” she said, her brow furrowed beneath the hood of her rain-spattered cloak. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Hope surged in his chest. “Have you found Father?”

“No,” she said, nibbling her lower lip. She stepped closer. “Alex, it’s…it’s Emmy. She’s here. She’s come back.”

The words buzzed through his brain, a confused swarm. “What? Emmy is here? I don’t—”

The words died as his gaze fell upon his wife. His heart pounded as she walked toward him, the picture of calm with her hands clasped at her front, even as the sky continued to weep, soaking her gown, her bonnet, and speckling her cheeks.

Alex swallowed. The sight of her sent a shock of pleasure through his body, and relief washed over him, followed by a flicker of annoyance, though he didn’t know who had annoyed him more, Emmy or himself.

What was she doing here? Why had she come back? She was supposed to be on her way to London right now.

The questions begged to be asked, but he held his tongue and watched her in silence as she drew nearer, only vaguely aware of his sister slipping away.

“Alex.” Emmy’s husky voice was faint, tentative. “I—you—I’m so…” She trailed off awkwardly, emotion shimmering in her large, gray eyes, and she swallowed hard, as if saving the unspoken words for later. “What can I do to help?” she asked instead.

“We’ve already searched the house from top to bottom,” he said briskly, signaling for a groom. “I’m going to search the grounds now. I don’t know what else to do.”

“I’m sure you will find him safe and sound,” she said softly, though the well-meaning words rang hollow. There was no way she could be sure.

Alex gave her a tight smile.

“Do you think he—” She broke off, her troubled gaze meeting his. “Did my leaving upset him so much that he ran away?”

He shook his head, his hands clenching with the need to comfort her. He ignored the impulse. “I don’t know why, Emmy,” he answered softly. “He was quieter than usual last night, but he did not seem to be…”

He trailed off as a memory flashed through his mind from long ago, of his father in those months after his mother had left them.

Of his father out on the lake in a boat.

Horror filled him.

“I think I know where he is,” he said gruffly, reaching for Neptune’s reins.

He mounted the horse with the help of a groom then looked down at Emmy. “Will you send for the doctor?”

She nodded, her mouth grim. “Of course.”

Without another word, Alex urged Neptune into a gallop, the rain pelting his face and coat, and as they charged toward the lake, he sent up a prayer that he would find his father quickly, and that he would be safe and well.

“This is all my fault,” Emmy muttered, wringing cold hands as she paced the floor in the rose salon, her stockinged feet silent on the rug.

The gown she wore was mostly dry, but her boots were still damp and drying out in front of the fire. She should be there too, probably, but she was far too agitated to sit.

“It is not your fault,” Olivia said from her seat on the sofa beside Emmy’s brother. “You had no way of knowing that your leaving would affect Mr. Whitcomb so. You cannot blame yourself for this.”

Emmy tossed another desperate glance at the door, hoping to find Alex there with his father beside him, safe and sound, but the doorway remained stubbornly empty.

“She’s right, Em,” Griff said. “You are not to blame.”

He was wrong, but she did not argue. Her family’s assurances were well-meaning and appreciated, but she was to blame, and they all knew it. Her unfounded fears had sent her running from Bristlewood, and because of that her father-in-law was missing.

“Where are they?” she asked, throwing her arms up in frustration. “And where is the doctor? He should be here now, waiting with us, in case Mr. Whitcomb needs—”

She stopped short, biting back the awful words and shoving the terrible thought from her mind.

“All will be well,” Olivia said soothingly. “Your husband will find Mr. Whitcomb, and Tess will find the doctor, and all will be well.”

Emmy drew in a breath, repeating the words once more in her mind, desperate to believe them.

All will be well.

She wandered over to the window and peered down at the drive, disappointed to find it empty. Tess had left some time ago with a maid and a footman, intending to hunt the doctor down and bring him back to Bristlewood.

Emmy had almost told her she needn’t go herself, that the staff were more than capable of finding the doctor without her help, but the look of near-panic in Tess’s eyes had stayed her. Clearly she’d needed to be doing something.

Emmy could understand that feeling. She herself was nearly going mad with all the waiting and wondering. She could only imagine how Tess and Alex must be feeling.

As if the thought had conjured him up, her husband appeared out the window, riding toward the house on his horse, his father seated in front of him.

“Alex has returned, and his father is with him,” Emmy said, turning for the door with her heart in her throat.

She practically ran from the room, Olivia and Griffin following behind, and she entered the entrance hall just as Reeve pulled open the front door.

Alex strode inside with Mr. Whitcomb in his arms, motionless and sopping wet, his eyes closed, his wrinkled cheeks devoid of color.

“Is the doctor here?” Alex asked, his breath coming in short gasps as he dripped rain onto the floor.

Reeve shook his head, worry lining his normally-placid face. “Not yet, sir.”

“Tess has gone to fetch him,” Emmy offered, her gaze fastened on her father-in-law’s wan face. “How is he, Alex? Where did you find him?”

“In a boat on the lake,” he said grimly. “I need to get him dry and warm.”

Emmy’s brow knit. What was Mr. Whitcomb doing in a boat on the lake? And how long was he out there?

Carefully, Alex transferred his father into the arms of the young footman who had just arrived, and they all watched the man turn and climb the stairs for Mr. Whitcomb’s chamber.

“I’ll have tea sent up for him,” Emmy said to Alex. “And brandy, too.”

He gave a curt nod, his stare intense as he watched the footman carry his father away.

“Alex?” She touched his arm, barely brushing his damp sleeve with her fingers, though he seemed to stiffen slightly beneath the contact. “Are you well?”

He looked at her and the anguish in his eyes made her chest ache. “I’m fine,” he said roughly, shoving a lock of wet hair off his forehead. “But where is the bloody doctor? He should have—”

The front door swung open with a bang, drowning out his words, and Tess rushed into the entrance hall. “Have you found Father?” she asked, pushing back the hood of her cloak. “Is he here?”

A balding, bespectacled man dressed in black and carrying a leather bag followed her inside.

“He is asleep in his bed,” Alex said to his sister before turning to the man beside her. “Thank you for coming, Doctor Phillips. My father is cold and exhausted, but he seems to be uninjured.”

The doctor nodded. “Take me to him, please.”

Emmy watched her husband climb the stairs with Tess and the doctor following behind, and she nearly went with them—she certainly wanted to—but after yesterday and everything that had happened since, she wasn’t certain her presence would be welcome.

With her heart in her throat, Emmy turned and walked into the rose salon, quiet now as Olivia and Griffin stood awkwardly in front of the sofa, eyeing her with twin looks of concern.

“Are you all right?” Olivia asked softly.

Emmy shook her head. “I’m scared. Mr. Whitcomb looked dreadful. What if he is injured? What if he should take ill?” She swallowed. “What if he never wakes—”

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes just as Griffin wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in her brother’s jacket and willed the tears back, along with her rising panic.

“Try not to worry,” he said, patting her back. “The doctor is here now, and your husband seems to think Mr. Whitcomb will be fine.”

Emmy huffed out a humorless laugh. “How can I not worry? He is such a dear man, and he is unwell because of me.”

The next hour seemed to creep along at a snail’s pace with Emmy fretting and pacing while her family looked on, doing their best to soothe her to no avail.

She was not in the mood to be soothed.

Finally, an eternity later, Alex appeared in the doorway, his expression stoic and frustratingly unreadable.

“Well?” Emmy said, striding up to him, her heart hammering against her ribcage. “How is he?”

“He is awake,” Alex said, his voice low and weary. “He is weak and chilled to the bone, but the doctor thinks he will recover quickly with no lasting effects.”

“Oh, thank God,” Emmy said, pressing her palms to her cheeks as relief flooded her. “May I see him?”

“Yes, though he might be a bit drowsy. The doctor gave him a sedative to relax him, but he should be mostly lucid for another few minutes.”

Emmy nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Oh, Alex. I am so sorry. I never should have left. I never meant to—”

“Please, Emmy,” he said, his gentle tone softening the interruption. “Can we discuss this later? I am chilled to the bone, too, and I’d love a hot bath and dry clothes.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, realizing her selfishness in keeping him. “Go. We’ll talk later.”

He quit the room, and she watched him leave, trying not to cry, her throat so thick with emotion she could not speak.

Thank God , she thought. Thank God Mr. Whitcomb is going to be all right.

Griffin cleared his throat behind her and Emmy whirled around in surprise before pulling him and Olivia in for a long embrace. She’d nearly forgotten they were there.

“Thank you for staying,” she said, looking first at her brother and then her friend. “I should have gone mad without you both here with me.”

“Of course we stayed!” Olivia said. “What sort of a friend would I be if I hadn’t stayed? And we are so glad Mr. Whitcomb is safe now.”

Emmy nodded, tears of relief misting her eyes. “I am, too.” She sniffled then drew in a deep, calming breath. “Shall I have your same room prepared for you? Surely it is too late for you to travel.”

“Nonsense,” Olivia said. “If we leave now, we will arrive at the inn in time for a late supper.”

“Olivia,” Griffin said gently, “I think it would be best if we stayed here tonight and left for London in the morning.”

“I disagree, darling,” Olivia said. “It is only a few hours’ journey to the inn, and—”

“And nothing ,” he said firmly. “When I agreed to accompany you on this trip, I made one stipulation—that you were not to over-exert yourself.”

Olivia’s brow furrowed in that way of hers which suggested she wished to argue, but in the end she only sighed and said, “Fine. We will stay.”

“Excellent,” Emmy said. “I am always glad to spend more time with you both. Firstly, though, I must see Mr. Whitcomb. Will you two be all right by yourselves for a little while?”

“Of course,” Griffin said. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

“And we’ll be right here if you need us,” Olivia said.

Emmy gave them both a grateful smile then turned and quit the room, quickly making her way up the stairs and down the corridor to her father-in-law’s chambers. She knocked softly then let herself inside the darkened room and shut the door gently behind her.

“Mr. Whitcomb?” she called out, her gaze on the canopy of blue damask curtains surrounding the bed. “It’s Emmy, sir. Are you awake?”

“Emmy?” His voice was weak but strained with urgency. “Is it really you?”

She rushed forward and drew the curtains aside. “It is. I’m here,” she said, moving to stand beside him. She drew his hand in hers, her gaze sweeping over his face, taking in his pale cheeks and weary mouth, the dark purple smudges framing tired eyes.

Tears threatened, but she swallowed past the lump in her throat and summoned a cheerful smile. “How are you feeling? I’m so relieved you are safe.”

“I’m sorry I worried you, my dear,” he said. “It was not my intention to cause such a fuss. When Alex told me you’d left, I…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. “I don’t really know what happened. I was upset and I went for a walk and wound up at the lake.” His frown deepened. “I don’t know how I came to be in that boat. I don’t even remember climbing in it.” Sheepish eyes met hers. “That was a silly thing to do, wasn’t it?”

Emmy gave his hand a gentle pat. “You were upset. We all do silly things when we’re upset.”

No one would know that better than her.

“Yes, I suppose that is true.” He gave her fingers a squeeze. “I’m glad you’ve returned. I was worried I would never see you again.”

Regret clutched her heart. “I know,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry I worried you.”

“Why did you leave?” he asked, his gaze curious, perplexed, yet without the recrimination she’d expected, and surely deserved.

“I was…confused,” she said, dropping her gaze to the quilted counterpane. “I thought a trip to London would make me happy, but I was wrong. I’m happiest here with you and Tess and Alex. You are my family, and I love you all so much.” She looked at him, meeting his gaze as she vowed, “I promise never to worry you so again.”

A weak smile touched his lips. “Good. I do so hate to be worried.”

His words were starting to slur, his eyes growing heavy, and Emmy watched fondly as he began to drift off to sleep, the ghost of a smile still gracing his lips.

“I’m glad Alex married you,” he murmured, so softly she barely caught the words.

“So am I,” she whispered back.

And with a gentle order to sleep well, she pressed a soft kiss to the dear man’s brow then slipped from the room and left him to his slumber.