Chapter Thirty-Seven #3
Rose’s fingers stopped, and she looked at him.
“I…Well, that never occurred to me.” She resumed her stitching, and his skin was quite numb by now.
“I don’t think so. The two young women I overheard talking are the ones who mentioned Whitefriars.
” She let out a long breath. “Then again, I suppose Viola could have planted the notion.”
The stitching stopped, but her fingers did not, and after a series of motions, she sat back on her heels. “There. All done.”
“How does it look?” he asked lightly.
She lifted surprised eyes to his, then back to her handiwork. “I told you, I’m excellent with a needle, though you have more stitches than I can count. How the devil did this happen?” she asked again, frowning.
There was that ridiculously adorable spaniel, again, panting after the meat, he thought with a sigh. “Our carriage was attacked.”
She seemed to take that in stride. “And how did Stockton end up with you? I don’t picture you having patience with the likes of him.”
“We stopped at Boodle’s. Shufflebottom is scamming the idiot. I found I dislike that notion more than I dislike Stockton. Some, er, miscreant smashed the window in, and there was a slight scuffle.”
Doubt, suspicion appeared in those raised brows. “Slight?”
He ignored that. “In any event, Stockton was so inebriated, he slept through the entire ordeal.”
A thoughtful hush came over her as she watched him.
He found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the different emotions flitting over her face, then her eyes narrowed.
“You saved him from Shufflebottom,” she accused softly.
“It was over that vowel we found in his safe! Ha, I suppose you told Shuff you would pay it?”
Good God.
“I’m right. I know it! If I’m remembering correctly, it was over three thousand pounds.” A thoughtful glint lit her eyes. “I suppose the apple does not fall far from the tree,” she said on a huffed breath.
A skitter of dread rippled over his skin. “What do you mean?”
“Lady Lockhart is his aunt.”
“You must be jesting.”
She smiled, a genuine smile then dropped her head in her hands. “What a pair of saintly sorts we are turning out to be.”
That was not a label he cared to be associated with. “Why don’t you talk to your brother about Lady Lockhart?”
She let out a highly unladylike snort. “Because then he would weasel out of me how Viola came into my company. Rebecca and Gabriella are bursting at the seams with curiosity as it is.”
A sudden bout of lust hit his lower abdomen. “I think I hurt my lip,” he told her.
“What?” She came up on her knees and leaned over him. Close enough to capture her with his good arm. “Where—”
The woman talked way too much, he decided, pulling her in for a warm and desperate kiss.
That light touch was an explosion of an early summer morning, reminding him of his trek through dewy grass when he’d been tasked to feed the chickens and milk the goats. After which he took a plunge in the pond before heading back to the house for breakfast.
The tip of her tongue touched his lip, and he groaned.
With herculean effort, he slowly released her. In the low glow of the lamps, the dark green of her widened eyes shimmered like a fine piece of tourmaline. A crystal stone that drew him into the dark, opaque depths of the earth.
“We must get you home.” He hardly recognized his own voice, husky and barely audible.
Slowly, he started to rise and winced.
“Oh, no! You mustn’t move.”
His lips twitched at her frantic tone.
“Why are you laughing?” she demanded. “One sneeze and you’ll undo all my brilliant handiwork.” Every word she uttered revealed the confident and officious Lady Stanford he knew and lov—
Emerson cut that thought off at the knees, grunting. She had no desire in marrying him, a merchant, and he had to find a way out of it for her.
Somehow.
~~~
“Damn you, Emerson Whitmore. You’re bleeding again, blast you—” Rose breathed in through her nose to calm all matters of her being now out of kilter.
He was holding something back, but what?
If she didn’t fear tearing out her perfect stitches and causing further damage, she’d crawl atop him herself.
Amir appeared out of the darkness and nudged Rose aside, startling her.
“Good heavens, sir, you are quiet as a spectral.”
His teeth flashed, gleaming. He turned, leaning in to study her work. “These sutures are quite impressive, madam.”
“Of course they are,” she informed him, using all her familia ducal hauteur behind the declaration. She’d taught all her sisters the skill. All but Gabriella, she amended silently. That girl had been rebellious the minute she’d emerged from their mother’s womb.
“There’s a basin of water to cleanse your hands,” he told her softly, taking up the whiskey bottle.
He poured another generous amount over Emerson’s wound, filling the air with the pungent smell of honeyed malt edged with a hint of fire.
Apparently, she’d been so frightened earlier she hadn’t registered the subtle elements.
Some of which reminded her of the many nights Stanford had stumbled through the door.
Emerson sucked in a harsh breath. “God’s teeth, man. A little warning would not be amiss. You’re wasting good spirits.” No one paid him any mind.
Amir held out his hands. “The box, madam?”
Rose handed it over and moved to wash the blood—Emerson’s blood—from her hands.
The room’s amber lighting wavered before her, and her lungs seemed to have forgotten their function. There was a clatter of some sort that sounded through a long chamber constructed of stone that echoed. There was no fighting the obsidian suddenly overtaking her.
~~~
“Rose!” Emerson called out, jerking forward. But he was stuck.
Amir dropped the box, spilling its contents at Emerson’s feet, and was at the table before Rose hit the floor. He carried her to the settee Stockton had occupied earlier, laying her down.
Emerson carefully came to his feet and went on his knees beside her, ignoring the trickle of dampness he was certain consisted of blood mingling with now torn stitches. She would have his head. He laid a palm against her cheek. “Rose.”
Her eyes flickered then opened. Then focused.
“You fainted, darling. This has been too much for you.”
She jolted up, her brows furrowed. “I’ve never fainted in my life! What are you doing?” Her eyes raked over him. “You’re bleeding. Again! Where is…is your man?”
“I am here, madam. Reassembling my medical box,” Amir said calmly. “And I’m no one’s man. We are friends.”
“Friends? Reassembling?”
“He dropped it so he could catch you before you hit your head,” Emerson said. “I doubt it would have knocked any sense into you had that happened, regardless.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say.” Tears pooled in her eyes.
He grabbed her hands, still stained with his blood, and brought them to his lips. “Forgive me, Rose. My humor is often questionable when I am under duress.”
“Oh.” She gave him a watery smile. “You were teasing me.”
“Yes.”
“You best allow Mr.—”
“Amir.”
“Mr. Amir—”
“Just Amir.”
“All right, just Amir, then, to bandage you up before you cause further damage to your person. I-I’ll call for my carriage.”
Emerson scowled. “We shall escort you.”
She snorted.
“Does that sound not breach common etiquette?” he said lightly.
She stopped, and her blush was distinguishable even in the low light. Then her eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing me again.”
“Yes.”
He came—slowly—to his feet and put out his hand.
She slapped it away. “You’ve already ruined some of my work, do you wish to destroy the rest?”
Smiling, he inclined his head and stepped back, lowering his hand, and honestly appreciating her candidness.
“Emerson,” Amir said. Emerson glanced over to see a bandage dangling from one hand. “If you please?”
He moved back across the room and allowed Amir to once more cleanse then dab the wound dry before bandaging his ribs for protection. It was tender, and he valiantly prayed it would avoid infection. To be abed amidst the vile shenanigans going on could not be borne.
His senses, and hearing, told him Rose was back at the basin attempting to wash her hands.
“What of Stockton?” he asked Amir softly.
“The earl is snug in his bed with a footman posted at the door. I doubt he’ll wake before noon on the morrow.”
“Good. I need a shirt and coat if I’m to escort the lady home,” Emerson said, steeling himself against the pain. “This is deuced inconvenient.” Mostly due now to the impossibility of smothering Rose with his body. “Do the servants know Lady Stanford is here?”
“No. I told Yates I would see to you and sent him to bed as well.” Amir finished packing up the medical box. “I’ll retrieve the garments for you and call for her carriage.”
“You cannot think to go out again,” Rose demanded sharply, crossing the room to him.
“You cannot think I shall allow you to return home alone at this hour,” he retorted. The latch on the door touched his ear. He let out an exasperated breath. “I don’t wish to frighten you, Rose—”
“But?”
“But nothing! On two separate occasions you have ventured where no lady of quality would, let alone should.” He gripped her upper arms. “You could be a target, and for that, I would never forgive myself.” He pulled her in for a hot, passionate kiss, then dropped his hold.
“Amir and I shall accompany you home in your carriage and return by hackney.”
“What are you hiding from me?” Her demands were growing tiresome.
“Noth—”
Her index finger poked him in the chest. “Do. Not. Lie. To me. I’m not an imbecile. How can I adequately protect myself if I am held in the dark? If I don’t know what to watch out for, I can’t help myself.”
Emerson let out a ragged breath. The porcelain of her cheeks and her jaw glowed amber from the fire, soft against her skin. And…she was right. Part of protecting her meant…trusting her. Allowing her to trust her own instincts. Tonight should have taught him that. “It was Billy.”
“What?” Her voice was a near whisper.
“It was Billy who attacked us tonight. Billy Buster. I doubt he’ll try again, but you’re right. You’re a strong, competent woman, and who knows you better than you? You have sound instincts and I…I trust you to watch out for yourself.”
“Oh, Emerson,” she whispered. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes shimmered in the fire’s reflection.
“Rose?”
She blinked, and a tear dampened her lower lashes. Her hands moved to his shoulders. She went up on her toes and touched the corner of his mouth with her full lips. “You could not have given me a greater gift.”
The ice encasing his heart shattered.