Chapter Thirty-One
Emmaline kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up under her bottom.
She settled leaning sideways onto the wing of the large chair.
This was the most hideously improper position in which to read a book.
Not a single line of her body was straight and if she had a kitten curled up on her lap, she would be in heaven.
No kitten. No puppy even. But she had a good book on this balmy spring evening and enough light to read.
The men in the family were out pursuing their interests.
Her mother was attending the theater after imbibing another cup of Chinese tea.
And Yihui was practicing English with Millie.
Emmaline was supposed to go to her friend’s come-out ball, but she’d sent her apologies.
All she wanted tonight was to read in quiet in whatever twisted way she chose to sit.
Why, if she wanted, she could even throw her knees over the armrest and stretch her head back until she was upside down.
She’d done that several times as a child and wasn’t averse to doing it again just because she could.
She’d finally gotten to the good part of her book—the salaciously silly part where the heroine is rescued from her own idiocy by a very handsome man—when someone banged loudly on the front door.
She jolted upright, annoyed on multiple levels by the interruption. She looked at the time. It was much too late for callers and too early for any of her family. Besides, even father didn’t pound that loud.
She stood up, marking her place in her book and then smoothing down her dress. She refused to put on her slippers. She would stay in her stocking feet because, well, sometimes a lady wanted to feel comfortable while at home.
Chiverton took his time answering the door. He had no more interest in indulging whoever was banging either. She wished she could peek out the window, but she’d been in the back of the house, not the front parlor. All she could do now was stand in the hall and wait to see if she was needed.
Maybe she should put on her shoes?
Too late. Chiverton opened the door with his customary, “Good evening, sir—”
“Good evening, Chiverton. The duke has asked us to move Miss Wong to a new home. If you could show us to her bedroom, we’ll get this finished quickly.”
“I beg your pardon, sir—”
“My name’s Mr. Pearson, and as you can see”—he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket—“I’ve got the duke’s seal on his instructions. I’d prefer not to upset things overmuch. If you would—”
Emmaline charged out of the back room. “Now just a moment here. Yihui is not going anywhere—”
“Lady Emmaline! Good to see you again.” A very handsome man stepped into the light.
His blue eyes sparkled, his broad face showed even white teeth in a face used to smiling.
His skin was rugged, his shoulders broad, and his fit body was attired as nicely as any gentleman, albeit in not quite the first stare of fashion.
And if she didn’t mistake her guess, there was a stain on the cuff and a tear near the shoulder.
She saw it only because he bowed before her in the most exquisite manner despite his lack of fresh tailoring.
“Do I know you sir?”
“Mr. Noah Pearson, my lady. We met in your first season. I don’t attend many parties, as a rule, but it was my sister’s come-out.”
Memories tumbled into place. Good lord, was this the third son of Baron Trottham? He’d matured into quite a handsome devil, and the glint in his eyes told her he knew how to use his charm.
“Mr. Pearson,” she said, refusing to give him her hand. “Why have you disturbed my evening?”
“Apologies, my lady. As I was explaining to Chiverton—”
“How do you know his name?”
“Your father told it to me when he wrote his letter.” He gestured to where Chiverton was holding out a note that clearly showed her father’s wax seal.
The butler handed it over to her with a slight frown. “It says Miss Wong is to be moved.”
“Moved to where?”
Mr. Pearson gave a teasing kind of shrug. “I’m not allowed to say, I’m afraid. His Grace wished to keep the woman’s destination private.”
“Private! You can’t simply take a woman out of our home.”
“Of course not. But His Grace can have one removed at his direction.” So saying he gestured to the men behind him. While he’d been talking, three other burly men had crowded into the hallway, and he now pointed them up the stairs.
“You cannot go up there!” Emmaline cried as she dashed forward. She meant to stand in front of them, but she hadn’t expected Mr. Pearson’s speed. Or strength.
She’d taken no more than one step when he caught her about the waist and swung her back around. “I can’t let you interfere, my lady. You might get hurt.”
His arms were like rope, thick and unforgiving. And they were a shock to her mind and body. No man had ever handled her as such, picking her up and setting her aside like a sack of potatoes.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried as she slapped him as hard as she could manage.
Or she tried. He caught her wrist as easily as some caught a tossed ball, and he held her arm aloft, well away from scratching his eyes out.
She twisted as viciously as she could, but to no avail.
His hand was heavy, his grip bruisingly strong.
And when she went to kick him, he rapidly spun her around, flattening her back to his front.
“Go on, boys. Find her quick.”
He didn’t have to encourage his men. They were already halfway up the stairs, but at his words, they quickened their pace.
“Let me go!” Emmaline screamed, but it made no difference. Even Chiverton appeared lost as he waved his hands in distress.
“Unhand her immediately!” he bellowed, but Mr. Pearson spoke right over him.
“I know this is upsetting. It’s not my intention at all.”
She slammed her feet down as hard as possible, cursing her lack of shoes. Damn it, his boots were thick. His arms were tight across her belly in the most horrible way.
“Stop it!” she cried, and she wasn’t the only one.
One of his men appeared at the top of the stairs with Yihui casually tossed over his shoulder. She was fighting, but they had her pinned. Then Emmaline watched in horror as the man banged one of her feet against the wall. Everyone could hear her howl of pain and Emma’s captor jerked sideways.
“You’re not to hurt her.”
“Then she shouldn’t scratch, damned foreign cat.”
“Let her go!” Emmaline screamed. So did Millie who was hitting one of the other men with a book. Down the hall, a pair of footmen came running, but they were young men against hardened brutes—easily shoved backwards and out of the way.
“Please, please,” Mr. Pearson kept saying. “This is only making things harder.”
Emmaline jerked her head back as hard as she could. She was held tight to Mr. Pearson’s front, and she desperately hoped to crack the man’s jaw.
She didn’t. Her head thunked heavily into his muscled chest and made no apparent impact.
The others went less easy on the staff. One slammed Chiverton into the wall.
The other punched their hardiest footman hard enough to knock him off his feet.
And in very short order, the man carrying Yihui swept out the door.
“Where are you taking her?” Emmaline screamed. “You can’t do this!”
But of course, they could. They did. They were gone in less than three minutes while the ducal household was left in shambles. Last to leave was Mr. Pearson. He set her down and dashed toward the door in one fluid motion.
She was quick, too, rushing after him, but what could she do except grab his coat? It tore in her grasp, and she heard him curse, but he didn’t slow. Within a few breaths, he leaped into the carriage as it barreled down the street.
Emmaline might have been impressed by his athleticism. Instead, she was revolted, sick to her stomach as she watched the carriage escape. Her skin crawled with the memory of his arms around hers. She’d been completely helpless.
They’d taken Yihui like robbers holding up a carriage, except it had been in London in her home. The violation of it made her furious, sick, and so shaken she could barely stand.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Chiverton asked, his voice wavering.
No! She’d never be all right again.
What was going to happen to Yihui?
Oh God!
She wasn’t accomplishing anything by standing in the doorway. She turned, seeing her aged butler looking older than she’d ever seen the man. He was pale, his hair askew, and his hands were shaking.
“Are you all right?” Her gaze skipped past her butler to where the footmen were regaining their feet. One was holding his arm as if it might be broken. The other had a hand pressed to his head.
“Just rattled, my lady,” Chiverton answered.
She stepped back into the house, absurdly furious that her stockings were now wet.
She should have been wearing shoes. The men were straightening, their injuries looking less serious by the second.
Indeed, Millie looked the most injured and that was because she was cupping her wrist while still holding a broken book.
“The bloody cheek!” the maid cursed.
Emmaline heartily agreed. “Thomas, Henry, do you need a doctor?”
Both men shook their heads. “No, my lady.”
“Naw, my lady. But I’ve punched softer walls.”
She understood the sentiment. “Get some ice pressed to your head, Thomas. Millie, how bad is your wrist?”
“Just a sprain, my lady. Nothing that won’t heal in a few days.”
Emmaline nodded, coming into the center of the foyer. She had her arms wrapped tight around her belly as she tried to erase the feel of a stranger holding her helpless. She had to will herself not to vomit. Thank God her mother wasn’t here.
“It’s my fault, my lady,” Chiverton said as he smoothed down his hair. “My deepest apologies.”
“It’s not your fault that ruffians attacked—”
“No, my lady. No!” He straightened his coat, clearly using the gesture to pull his thoughts back in order.
“Chiverton, don’t fret—”
“My lady, it was the duke’s command.” He picked up the letter where it had fallen to the floor. He smoothed out the creases and set it carefully on the side table. “We shouldn’t have interfered.”
Emmaline spun on her heel, at last finding a target for her fury. “What?”
“I should have just allowed them in.”
“You did allow them in!”
“They wouldn’t have hurt anyone if I’d just let them do as they wish.”
“They did do as they wish!”
“Yes, yes, but with so much hubbub. It was unseemly and completely my fault.”
She took a breath, thinking it would calm her.
Instead, it set the fire inside her belly to white hot.
Damn it, how long had she tolerated his insolence?
He’d been campaigning to get rid of Yihui from the very beginning, despite what Max planned and what Emma explicitly ordered.
Hell, even her mother had thrown herself into training Yihui to be a lady, but Chiverton had his own ideas, and he regularly demonstrated his attitude.
“Chiverton, they abducted our guest.”
The man looked awkward, his expression apologetic. “His Grace mentioned several days ago that she had overstayed her welcome.”
“And so you let anyone burst inside—”
“He had a letter!” Chiverton squeaked as he pointed at the thing.
That was it. She was done getting disrespected in her own home.
“You won’t.”
Everyone stared at her as the cold finality in her tone cut off all the noise in the house. Eventually, Chiverton gathered enough dignity to question her words.
“I beg your pardon, my lady?”
“You’re sacked without reference.”
“My lady!”
“Get out.” Then she turned to the room at large. “And if any of you want to stay employed, you will find my brother and bring him home!”