Chapter Thirty-Three
Christopher ran down the street, grateful for something useful to do.
His own father had been a drunken wastrel who did the world a favor when he passed out in a ditch, caught an ague, and conveniently expired soon after he was discovered the next day.
Max’s father had been a towering pillar of conservative values and rigid authority.
He never bent, never compromised, and never released control once it was in his iron grip.
To see the duke topple like that, cut off mid-rant, was like seeing a foundational part of his world falter.
To be sure, he and Max both had railed against the man, despised and defamed him as often as possible.
But somehow, they’d never grappled with the reality of their archnemesis crumpling into himself.
It shook Christopher in ways he couldn’t measure. And the thought of what it must be doing to Max horrified him.
So Chris was grateful to be sent on a useful task.
He didn’t bother with a hackney in the usual way.
Waiting for one to come around would be a waste of time.
Instead, he ran in the right direction then hopped gingerly onto the back of the nearest one already going toward Grosvenor Square.
He was too large a man to do this without getting noticed.
Normally, such a thing was for boys who had no coin for travel.
But he kept his head down and leapt off the moment the coachman thought to object.
He was fortunate in his choice of hackneys and so was able to rush with relative speed straight up the steps of Max’s home. He banged the knocker as hard as he could, steadying his breath to appear at least partially in control. And then was confused when no one answered.
What the devil? The house was lit with candles in the front parlor and the upper bedrooms. He noted that Emmaline’s bedroom was dark, so she was probably in the back room reading. Still, someone should have answered the door by now. Chiverton was a prig, but he knew his job.
Christopher banged again and was relieved when a muffled voice responded.
“Coming. Jes’ a moment.”
He waited, anxious at the time. Finally, the door was pulled open by… the cook? “Mr. Gaudreau?” He looked over the man’s shoulder to the empty foyer. “Someone is coming for Miss Wong and—”
“Yes, yes! We know!”
Oh bloody hell. He was too late. “What happened? Where’s Chiverton?”
“Chiverton has been sent packing and everyone else is looking for his lordship. I’ve made tea for Lady Emmaline, but…” He shook his head. “It was very bad, my lord. Very bad indeed.”
“His lordship is on his way here. Both of them.”
Mr. Gaudreau’s expression brightened. “Oh good. You have found him—”
“Not good. The duke has taken ill. His room must be made ready. Someone must send for his valet who has been at his club.” He frowned. “Where is Chiverton?”
“Sacked.”
“What?” Good lord, he could barely wrap his head around anything this man was saying.
He needed to speak to the one person who always and forever knew how to manage things.
“Never mind. Where is Lady Emmaline?” He didn’t wait for an answer nor even an invitation.
He sidestepped Mr. Gaudreau, entered the house, and quickly looked about.
He noted a new dent in the wall and a side table pushed out of place.
He also realized the house seemed deadly quiet.
That was not good.
He headed straight to the back parlor with Mr. Gaudreau mincing along behind him. What he saw shocked him on a night full of shocks.
Emmaline stood in the middle of the room as if she were heading to her favorite spot for reading, but she wasn’t moving. She had wrapped her arms around her belly and was staring into the fire. He’d known her for much of his life, and in that time, he’d seen her in many moods. This was a new one.
She wasn’t listening, didn’t appear to be thinking, and possibly wasn’t even breathing. It was as though the very essence of Emmaline wasn’t even there.
“I brought the tea…” Mr. Gaudreau said. “But—”
“Thank you. I’ll handle it from here.”
“That’d be good, sir.” He paused a moment. “I’ll direct the maids to get the duke’s chamber ready. There’s one that stayed behind who isn’t hurt.”
Chris’s head snapped around. “Hurt? You’ve got injured?”
“Nothing too serious. We’ve sent for Mr. Torres.”
The surgeon. “Broken bones, then?”
“Sprains, I think.”
That was something. He turned his attention back to Emmaline. She didn’t appear physically injured, but she certainly wasn’t herself. “Thank you, Mr. Gaudreau,” he said. Then he waited a moment while the cook withdrew before he entered the room.
“Emma? It’s Chris.”
Damn it. He wasn’t exactly sure how to approach her.
Certainly, he’d dreamed nightly about their last encounter.
Dreamed, fantasized, and tormented himself with it, but in all that time, he hadn’t figured out how best to approach her in the aftermath.
He shouldn’t be the one to be here with her, but there was no one else.
And he, at least, could take whatever she fury she threw at his feet. He deserved it.
But she didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to recognize his presence.
“Emma?”
“I heard you.”
Oh good. She was cognizant, but she wasn’t looking at him.
“Things seem to be a bit upset here. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Why are you here?”
“Max sent me. Your father was planning something regarding Miss Wong. I was supposed to stop it.”
“You’re too late.”
Yes, he’d gathered that. “We only just found out.”
“You’re never here when I want you.”
He winced. There were too many layers to that statement for him to address it directly. “Tell me what happened.”
“Men came. Chiverton let them in. They took Yihui away and wouldn’t say where.” She shuddered. “I tried to stop them.”
He reached out a hand to touch her but stopped short. He didn’t have the right to comfort her. “Did they hurt you?”
“They hurt her. She screamed. They banged her foot. Why would they do that? Why would they—” She squeezed her eyes tight.
“We’ll deal with that in a moment. And there’s more after that. But first…” He let his hand settle gently, warmly on her arm. “Emma, what happened to you?”
She whipped around, her total stillness abruptly tossed aside as her eyes blazed in fury. “What happened to me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, Chris. I wasn’t hurt. I wasn’t injured. Millie’s wrist might be broken. Henry might have a concussion. I’m not even bruised.”
“But—”
“I told them to stop. I told them to get out. They didn’t listen. I tried to stop them, but he grabbed me. He held me back as if I were a toddler and nothing I did made the least difference. When they were done—when they had Yihui—they left. They just left. I did nothing.”
“You did something, Emma. You fought them. You tried—”
“Nothing!” She screeched the word straight in his face. “Nothing!”
And then he understood. She was the privileged daughter of a duke.
The world had always deferred to her, respected her, treated her with reverence.
Indeed, he knew the only reason she was so fixated on him was because he was the only one to never bow to her wishes.
That wasn’t completely true, of course. Certainly, there’d been a nanny somewhere who had said no to her.
But in general, the world moved in a predictable, deferential pattern for her.
Until tonight.
She’d been powerless, and she’d probably never felt so helpless in her entire life. Unlike him, who fought daily against impossible forces, she’d always been protected and supported.
“Oh Emma,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
He gently pulled her into his embrace. She didn’t want to go, and he did not force her.
But the longer he stood there with his arm on her shoulder, the more she leaned toward him.
In time, she surrendered. She pressed her fists to his chest not to press him away but because she didn’t know who she should punch or how.
She was tight with fury and pain. He held her and murmured the only words he had.
“I’m so sorry. How can I help?”
She didn’t answer. He didn’t expect her to since, truthfully, there was nothing he could do to fix what had broken. Her sense of personal power was gone now, and there was no way for him to give it back.
Worse, he couldn’t even let her grieve. There were things she had to do.
And yet he couldn’t force himself to end this moment. She was rigid in his arms, her body shaking from her emotions, and all he wanted to do was hold her safe. He would kill the men who had done this to her. He would find them and rip them apart.
“How many men?” he asked.
“Four. I only knew Mr. Pearson.”
He jolted, pulling back with shock. “You knew them?”
“The leader. Mr. Noah Pearson. He’s the third son of Baron—”
“Trottham. Yes, I know.”
She frowned. “You know him?”
“Only by reputation.” It wasn’t a savory one. On the other hand, it wasn’t especially dark either. “He works for… for…”
“My father.” Those two words were filled with defeat. If there was one person the privileged daughter of a wealthy duke could not defy, it was the duke himself.
She peeled out of his arms and wandered listlessly to the settee where she sat down with a dull thud. “I cannot blame men who were working on my father’s orders.”
But he could. He absolutely could.
“Emma, there’s something else.”
She looked up and the sheen of pain in her eyes nearly defeated him. Of all the people in the world, he was the last person who should be delivering this news. His animosity to her father was well known, and the reverse. But the task had fallen to him, and he would not shirk it.
He dropped down beside her and gathered her listless hands in his. “Emma, I’ll find Miss Wong. You have that promise.” He didn’t know how, but he had resources. He’d figure it out.
“Thank you—”
“But right now, you must send word to your mother. You must get her home.”
“I don’t remember which ball she’s at. Besides, she never wanted Yihui here, either.”
He shook his head. “Your father’s collapsed. Max is with him. They’ve got a doctor there, but the duke is demanding he come home.”
Her eyes widened as shock rolled through her body. “Collapsed?”
“He and Max were arguing about Miss Wong. It was heated and…”
“The duke collapsed?”
He nodded. “Apoplexy, I think. He’s aware. Making his demands known. You need to get the house ready for him.”
“I fired Chiverton.”
“Yes. Um, why did—”
“He undermined me one too many times.” She pushed herself to her feet and he matched her movement. “How long until they come?”
“I don’t know. I rushed here to try and stop them from taking Miss Wong.”
“You didn’t make it in time.”
He winced. To be fair, she wasn’t attacking him, merely stating the fact of yet another instance when he could not measure up. “I will find her—” he began.
“Yes. Yes. Good. You go do that. You find her and bring her back. I’m going to…” She squared her shoulders. “I’m going to prepare Father’s bedroom. It hasn’t been aired since…”
Since Yihui arrived and upset everything.
“Emma—”
Her gaze to his. “Go save Yihui. I’ll handle things here.”
She was on solid footing now. At least she appeared to have pulled herself together, but even so, he was reluctant to leave. She was shaken to her core, and yet there was no softness in her anymore. Not toward him or anyone. Her eyes glittered with a deep resolve.
“Emma, perhaps I should—”
“Shut up, Chris. I’ve told you what I need. Find Miss Wong. Can you do it?”
He wasn’t sure, but he’d be damned if he admitted that without trying. “I will.”
“Then go.” There was such hatred in her tone that he barely recognized her. This was Emmaline, the lovelorn adolescent who adored him…no longer.
He waited a moment, studying her face for a hint of the girl who once cared for him. Or maybe the woman he had brought to completion a few days ago.
She was not there. In her stead stood an angry woman who dripped with disdain.
“Can. You. Do. It?”
“Yes.”
He sketched a deep bow and withdrew. Time to find Noah Pearson and beat the man to a bloody pulp.