Chapter Twenty-Six
Wylder
In an open field just a mile from the manor house, Wylder found the mare quietly grazing.
Unwilling to release his grasp on Emily and attempt to catch the horse, he instead clucked at the mare.
He was gratified when Sheba began following his gelding, the creature’s innate need to remain part of the herd greater than the desire to graze on rain-sweetened grass.
Wylder kept his gelding’s pace slow and steady, worried that anything faster would harm his precious cargo.
When the rooftop of the massive manor came into view above the tree line, Wylder breathed a sigh of relief.
Since Sheba had not galloped straight back to the stables, no one was aware that an accident had even taken place. Wylder approached the main house, knowing that from this point forward, his life would take a drastic turn. As would Emily’s.
And despite the many years of fighting this type of scenario, Wylder could not stop the thrill that shot through him.
There could only be one outcome to this.
Only one thing to stave off the impending scandal.
Because, despite this being a terrible, innocent accident, there was bound to be a scandal.
He and Emily were returning from the seclusion of the woods.
Their clothes were soaked, with Wylder missing his cravat and his jacket draped over Emily.
And as for Emily… well… the fact that she was muddy, bruised, and appeared to have fainted…
the rumors would paint her as being the victim of a ravishment.
Unless he could convince her parents and Simon of the truth of what had occurred, he would be required to marry Emily as a matter of honor.
Sliding off the gelding’s back, Wylder carefully pulled Emily down with him and carried her up the steps to the house. The double doors were already opening, and Thorne Park’s butler hurried out to meet him.
“Milord, whatever has happened?” Seaver exclaimed in distress even as he clapped his hands for two footmen to jump to attention. “You two, run fetch Lord and Lady Blackthorne at once.”
“We’ll need the doctor as well. Send someone right away,” Wylder instructed, shouldering past the man to enter the grand foyer. “Lady Emily took a tumble off her mount and requires immediate care. Have the kitchens begin heating water and a bath prepared.”
“Of course, milord. Right away. Right away.” Seaver nodded, frantically tugging the bell pull by the doors. “Ah, here is Lord Camden…”
“What the devil is going on here?” Simon shouted, racing down the curved stairs. His expression was murderous as he glared at Wylder. Directly behind Simon, his mother followed. She took one look at Wylder holding Emily’s body in his arms and immediately took action.
“Wylder, bring her upstairs and to her rooms.”
Emily stirred at her mother’s calm voice. Lifting her head from the hard planes of Wylder’s chest, she smiled woozily at her and Simon.
“Hullo,” she said before laying her head back down with a low sigh.
“Why is she all bruised and disheveled?” Simon demanded angrily, blocking the stairs and Wylder’s path with his muscular form. “And why are you carrying her like that? Put her down this instant, Wylder. You know very well you are to keep your distance from her.”
Wylder’s patience with his friend snapped without warning.
“Would you rather I left her back in the woods where I found her?” he snarled, sounding more like a wild animal than an aristocratic peer of the realm.
“Cold and bruised? Injured? Alone? Her horse threw her off during the storm. Now, for the love of God, step aside so that I may do as your mother has asked.”
“What the hell did you do to her?” Simon’s accusation rang out in the large foyer, ugly and harsh and so unexpected that Lady Blackthorne gasped in shock.
“Simon Blackthorne!” she cried out in dismay. “Be silent!”
“Give my sister to me,” Simon bit out, ignoring his mother. “I shall carry her, and then you can be sure I will get to the bottom of this with you.”
“Try taking her from me, and I will make you wish you hadn’t.
” Wylder’s tone was icy but controlled. He stared Simon down, hating that his best friend suspected him of hurting Emily, but this was not the moment to address it.
That opportunity would likely come at dawn and involve pistols.
Or perhaps only fists, if he were lucky.
“Simon.” Lucien emerged from the corridor to the left of the foyer, Emily’s father close on his heels.
“Let Wylder pass so Lady Blackthorne can care for her daughter. I’m not sure what has happened, but we certainly do not wish for the rest of the guests to become privy to it.
” Lucien’s calm order had the desired effect as Simon reluctantly stepped aside.
He still scowled at Wylder, however, and rage rolled off him until the air was thick and heavy with it.
“My thanks, Lucien.” Wylder’s gaze flickered from Simon to Lady Blackthorne, who came forward to lay her hand on Emily’s brow, her face drawn tight with concern for her daughter.
“Should we call for Miss True to attend Emily as well?” he asked her mother.
“I know her friend’s presence will be a great comfort to her. ”
“Miss True returned to London very early this morning. She fell ill yesterday and desired to recover at home,” Lord Blackthorne said as Wylder continued carrying Emily up the stairs. “Emily’s maid accompanied her.”
“She’s gone?” Simon asked suddenly. He was obviously startled by that bit of news, but he quickly recovered.
Jaw clenched, his bright blue eyes shuttered themselves against Wylder’s sudden scrutiny.
It was a strange reaction coming from a man who claimed to care nothing about the girl.
Glancing at Lucien, Wylder saw that he, too, was surprised by Simon’s unexpected behavior.
Carrying Emily down the second-floor corridor, Wylder followed Lord and Lady Blackthorne into the west wing where Emily’s bedroom was located.
Simon and Lucien trailed behind them, hovering outside the room as Wylder placed her on the downy coverlet.
Emily frowned, a whimper of protest escaping her throat as she clutched at his damp riding coat with her uninjured hand.
Her fingers tightened, refusing to let go as Wylder soothed her until her grip relaxed.
When Lady Blackthorne began removing her half boots, Emily stirred, her eyes fluttering open as several maids bustled into the room.
The buckets of hot water they carried were poured into the slipper tub in the corner of the room.
Wylder stepped aside, allowing Emily’s parents to begin caring for her, but he refused to move very far away. “Her wrist is injured, so have a care. I don’t know how badly, but I wrapped it to prevent her from hurting it further.”
“My poor, dear girl,” Lord Blackthorne murmured, running his hand over the crown of Emily’s dark hair. “I suspect she was riding Sheba. Do you know if that’s the case, Wyldewood?”
“Yes,” Emily mumbled, smiling up at her father. “Silly horse… she spooked at the thunder and reared up. I fell off… hit my head…” her brow furrowed, “and hurt my wrist.”
“I came across the mare in a field near here,” Wylder offered.
“She followed us back to the house, and I imagine a groom has taken her back to a stall along with my gelding.” He did not want to leave Emily, but he truly had no right to stay in the room as she was being attended to.
Eventually, he moved toward the door where Simon and Lucien were informing Charlotte of the events.
“Lady Blackthorne, may I offer some assistance when the doctor arrives?” Charlotte asked softly from her position beside Lucien. “I do have some experience helping villagers with various ailments back home.”
“You are all making a huge fuss over nothing,” Emily said, sounding more like herself as Lord Blackthorne sat her up and helped remove her riding coat. It was silently agreed to leave the makeshift bandage crafted of Wylder’s cravat in place until the doctor assessed the damage to Emily’s wrist.
“Please cooperate, my dear. You’ve taken quite a tumble, and naturally, you’re a bit woozy as a result,” Lady Blackthorne said, then turned to Charlotte with a grateful smile.
“Do come in, Lady Ashcroft. Any help is greatly appreciated.” Glancing about the room, the woman frowned at the number of people milling about and clapped her hands.
“I need everyone else to please vacate the room. We must get Emily out of these wet clothes before she catches her death of cold. When Doctor Felder arrives, send him up at once.”
Emily groaned, her chin tilting up in defiance.
It was enough to make Wylder’s heart slow its rapid pounding of panic.
If she could argue, it was clear she was already feeling better.
“Oh, no. Doctor Felder is coming? Why?” She struggled to sit up, wincing when she placed too much weight on her wrist. “The man will do nothing but lecture me. I’ll face enough of that from my brother and Lord Wyldewood.
They are busy dreaming up things to say, I can tell just by how they are glaring at each other this very moment. ”
Wylder smiled at just how true her words were. Simon’s expression clearly stated he wanted Wylder’s blood. Although it was up to her parents, Wylder could not help but wonder if his friend would accept the offer of marriage for his sister.