A Rogue for Emily

by Catherine Hemmerling

  “Alexander, dear,” Emily whispered. “It’s me. Please say something.”

  A fear more than she had ever known ran through her body. What if he were seriously hurt? What if he were dying? After risking his life to save her—to save all of them—she could not lose him like this. He was much too important to her.

  And he was, she realized. He was quite possibly the most important thing to her. When had that happened? Emily wasn’t sure, but when she had found herself in his arms after being freed from that basement room, she had felt like there was nowhere else she should be…nowhere else that she wanted to be. It was as if she belonged in his arms. As if she belonged to him.

  She shook her head. What was she thinking? Perhaps she was drunk. Goodness knows she had imbibed her fair share of alcohol that day. Purposely or not.

  “I am here, Emily,” Alex replied, seemingly unaware that he was repeating the very words he had used to reassure her in the pub basement.

  “Oh Alex,” Emily sighed, hugging him in the dark. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

  Alexander groaned louder, and he tried to gently nudge her off of him.

  “What is it, Alex? Are you hurt?” She began to feel around his torso and lower, but he stopped her before she had gotten too far.

  “Careful, Emily,” he admonished glibly, “you are getting close to a region you may not want to explore right now.”

  Emily felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

  “I am sorry, my lord,” she hastened to say, her embarrassment showing itself in her sudden formality.

  “No, I am sorry,” Alexander said wearily. “I should not be teasing you in a moment like this. The truth is, I am hurt. I think I cut myself coming through that blasted hole.”

  News of his injury overcame her shame, and Emily immediately began diagnosing the problem.

  “Where does it hurt?”

  “My left side. I think it is bleeding.”

  “I am going to touch you, sir, but only to determine the extent of the damage.”

  Alexander chuckled. “Thank you for the warning.”

  “This is not a laughing matter,” Emily replied sharply, as she reached out to find the wound.

  Working by memory of what she had felt before, she managed to find his chest easily enough. Moving her fingers over to his left side and down, she was able to find the cut. They were all still half submerged in streaming beer, but the warmth coming from the injury indicated that he was indeed bleeding and rather profusely, too.

  “Put your hand here,” Emily instructed, guiding Alex carefully, “and press firmly. I am going to tear off the bottom of my petticoat to use as a bandage.”

  She lifted her sodden dress and relieved her skirts of a healthy swatch of fabric within seconds.

  “Can you sit up, please?”

  With a grunt, Alex did as she asked. Holding one end of the improvised bandages against his cut, Emily proceeded to wrap them around his body three times before tying the fabric off tightly.

  “This would work better if it were dry, but it should do for now. How does it feel?”

  “Hurts like hell, but at least is doesn’t feel like my side is falling off.”

  “Language, please,” Emily whispered, “there is a child and ladies present, despite the situation.”

  She felt Alex’s hair brush her face as he nodded.

  “You are correct, Emily,” he replied, equally as soft. “I do apologize. Thank you very much for your care.”

  Emily’s stomach flipped over once again as his warm breath caressed her cheek. Even in the darkness, she felt him looking at her and for the briefest second, she could have sworn his lips brushed hers. She nearly died from the headiness of it all.

  Surely she was intoxicated.

  “Is it just me or is there a light coming from down there?” Melinda queried suddenly.

  It took Emily a moment longer than she liked to admit to register the comment, but when she did she looked anxiously around for whatever it was that Melinda had seen.

  And there it was. A faint, almost nonexistent, glow from farther down the tunnel.

  “Our eyes must be adjusting to the dark,” Alexander said. “Let’s not sit around here any longer. I am more than ready to get back to Mayfair…”

  “…and out of all this beer,” Roddy finished for him.

  Everyone seconded the notion, and they staggered to their feet. The walk was long and awkward as there was still a fair amount of liquid to wade through, and all of them were more than half drunk from swimming in ale for so long. But finally they came upon a ladder that led upward to a grate.

  Roddy ran up the ladder quick as lightning. He tried to lift the grate, but Emily could see it was more than he could handle. Throwing out a quick prayer, Emily climbed up behind him.

  “What seems to be the problem, Roddy?” she asked lightly.

  “I can’t seem to move this cover, milady. It’s stuck.”

  Roddy wiped the muddy beer drops from his eyes. Apparently, the ale was still running through the streets above. Emily shuddered to think what waste was mixing with the alcohol as it poured over them and down on her friends below.

  “Let me try, sweetie. Maybe luck will be on my side.”

  “Per’aps we should try together?” Roddy suggested.

  Not one to begrudge help when offered, Emily nodded gamely.

  As one, Emily and Roddy pushed up on the iron bars, and after a moment of resistance the grate gave way, and they were able to shove the covering aside.

  Climbing a rung higher up the ladder, Emily and Roddy stuck their heads out of the tunnel and looked around.

  They appeared to be in the middle of a little-used alleyway or side road. It was piled with trash and discarded junk for as far as the eye could see. Emily doubted that anyone would be looking for a tunnel entrance to anywhere in this awful, smelly place. She also realized that if it wasn’t for the garbage surrounding them, the amount of runny sludge draining into the tunnel opening would have been far worse than it was.

  After helping Roddy out of the hole, Emily sent him off to procure some sort of transportation for all of them. The likelihood that their original hack was still waiting for them was slim, in her opinion. Then she made her way back down into the darkness and her waiting companions.

  Alex was leaning weakly against a wall, and the ladies were helping him to keep upright.

  “Come now,” Emily said briskly, “let’s get out of here.”

  Not a soul dissented the suggestion, and she directed them up the ladder. First Eleanor, and then Melinda, and finally Emily helped Alex up. Once above ground again, they all shared a sigh of relief and more than a few tears of joy.

  The comparably fresh air was sobering, and they all took deep, bracing breaths before heading in the direction of the hustling and bustling sounds nearby. Picking their way through the maze of trash carefully, Emily continued to give Alexander support where needed. In the waning light of day, she was appalled to see how pale he was and how much blood had soaked through his bandages.

  He needed to see a doctor immediately.

  As shocked as she was to see how badly Alex was doing, nothing was more horrifying than the sight of the beer-flooded streets of St. Giles. There were dozens of people wandering around absently in shock and even more citizens helping pull people up from the ground, out from beneath partially collapsed walls and buildings, and rescuing those still trapped in flooded basements as they had recently been.

  This portion of the city looked like the drawings of war zones Emily had seen in the papers.

  Despite all the chaos and damage, there were still many Londoners unwilling to pass up the chance for free beer. Everywhere she looked, Emily could see people filling containers of every size and shape with the brown frothy liquid. Some were lying on the ground lapping it up.

  “This cannot be sanitary,” Melinda commented in disgust.

  Her sentiment rang even more true as they pas
sed rows of injured people and even one or two deceased individuals all lying in the road—in agony or defeat—with rivulets of the dirty alcohol running around and past them…right into the open mouths or vessels of the greedy masses.

  It was truly awful.

  “Milady!”

  Emily turned to see Roddy waving at her from about a block away. He was standing next to a sopping hack, and she had never been more grateful to see him. She and the others hurried to him and after directing the driver to Mayfair—a destination the man seemed surprised to hear, based almost certainly on their appearance—the whole group piled into the vehicle and looked forward to getting home and putting this whole awful experience behind them.

  More importantly, Emily wanted to get Alexander seen by a doctor. The man looked half dead, and she was beginning to realize how much she needed him in her life.

  Chapter Twenty

  Finishing the last sentence in a book leads to turning over a whole new leaf.

  ~The Duke of Lancaster

  Less than twenty-four hours later, Emily was ringing Lady Lancaster’s doorbell. Yesterday, she had had the hack driver take them directly to the dowager’s house. If anyone could get a doctor to their house immediately, it would be the duchess. Not to mention, it was the safest place to take Eleanor, and Melinda was anxious to get home.

  Their arrival was met with awe and confusion. News of the flood had already reached the affluent neighborhood, and the entire Garden Society, and their husbands, were in attendance waiting for them to return. Emily could almost see grooves in the floor from all the pacing she suspected had taken place. When they saw Emily and the others straggle in, they all leaped into action.

  William and Michael left to fetch the doctor; David and Simon escorted Alex to the closest ground floor bedroom and helped clean him up in preparation for medical attention; Hannah, Rose, Sarah, and Hope put Lady Lancaster’s staff to work preparing baths, clean clothes, and hot food for Emily, Eleanor, and Melinda; and Lady Lancaster tended to Roddy.

  By the time the ladies had finished bathing, Roddy had been washed up, fed, and sent home, Alexander had been seen by the dowager’s personal physician and was sleeping soundly, and all their friends had said their farewells.

  Emily had stayed long enough to ensure Alex was going to be all right and that Eleanor had a place to stay with Lady Lancaster. Her uncle would not have accepted a girl of Eleanor’s station coming home with Emily as an equal, so the duchess had offered her a warm bed. Once she was confident all was as well as could be expected, Emily had gone home and straight to bed. She had promised to return the next morning to tell everyone what had happened. She still wasn’t looking forward to reliving the experience, but she understood everyone’s intense interest.

  And so, there she was at the dowager’s home, tired and smelling faintly of beer. She was inexplicably nervous to see Alexander. She tried to tell herself she was just anxious to learn how he was doing—how serious his injury was—but deep inside she knew that wasn’t the reason. Somehow her heart was tangled up with her feelings for the man, but she wasn’t as yet sure what that meant.

  Was it the stirrings of love or just extreme gratefulness? She honestly wasn’t sure. How could her emotions regarding Alex be in such turmoil? Caring for him in any way was a complete about-face from what she had felt just a few short weeks ago. It was as if the feelings churned up by her mystery writer had opened her heart and allowed even her greatest enemy to worm his way in. What didn’t make any sense was how once Alex found his way into her thoughts, her entire conception of him had changed so drastically.

  Had he always been so brave and selfless? Surely not.

  The door swung open in front of her.

  “My lady,” Jacobs said, “you are expected.”

  The butler stood aside and allowed Emily entrance. After taking her overcoat and bag, he escorted her to the Rose Room. She wasn’t surprised to see everyone once again in attendance. Even the men had returned.

  “Emily,” Rose cried, rushing over to give her a big hug. “You are looking much better this morning.”

  “Thank you,” Emily squeaked out as Rose’s embrace was followed by more from all her other friends. “Where are Melinda and Eleanor?”

  “They will be down shortly,” Lady Lancaster answered. “They are taking another bath this morning. I believe the odor of ale, while barely noticeable, is especially disturbing to them now.”

  “And likely will always be,” Emily added, in complete understanding. “If we have a few minutes, I would like to see Alexander.”

  “By all means,” the dowager replied. “He has been asking for you.”

  Emily tried to ignore the fluttering of her heart but failed miserably. She practically ran to the guest room to see him. She opened the door slowly after giving a warning knock.

  “Alex,” she said softly. “Are you awake?”

  “Yes. Please come in.”

  She did as he asked and was gratified to see Alex propped up on the bed looking remarkably alert. The bedclothes were pulled up only to his waist, and Emily was horrified to find her gaze drawn inexorably to his bronzed, muscled chest.

  How is he so very tan? And why do I suddenly feel so dizzy and warm? Closing her eyes, Emily wondered if she would be able to remain standing.

  “Come, sit here beside me,” Alex invited.

  Emily was quite sure that was a very bad idea, but she directed her eyes to the floor and moved in the direction of the bed nevertheless.

  “I suppose it’s your turn to see me in bed,” Alex teased.

  “I suppose it is,” Emily replied, trying to sound as light as he did. She finally looked up when she got to the edge of the bed. To her relief, Alex had pulled on a robe. Emily sat down next to him much more at ease.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Surprisingly good. Sore and tired, but as long as I don’t make any sudden moves, I feel right as rain.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Emily returned. “I was told your wound needed more than twenty stitches.”

  “It was quite a tear, I admit,” Alex replied, “but luckily I had an excellent nurse at the time of injury.”

  The twinkle in his eye caught Emily off guard. How could he be in such a jovial mood? They had all gone through a horrifying event. She hadn’t even been badly hurt, and she had cried herself to sleep last night.

  “You are in remarkable spirits,” she said.

  “We are alive and well. What is there to be sad or upset about?”

  “Well, when you put it in that manner…”

  “Then smile, sweetheart.”

  The endearment caused Emily to visibly start. Yes, she knew very well that a few times yesterday Alex referred to her with equal familiarity, but in the heat of the moment she had ignored it.

  It was impossible to disregard now.

  “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  Alex raised his eyebrow. “I would like to see your beautiful smile?”

  “You know that is not what I meant,” Emily said in exasperation. Was he trying to annoy her?

  “All right, all right,” Alexander replied, raising his hands. “In the midst of all the ruckus at the pub, I realized something very important.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Apparently I care about you. Knowing you were in danger terrified me. Perhaps it is not proper to say such things so openly, but I wanted you to understand why I have decided to formally court you.”

  Emily could not have been more shocked. He had said the statement so matter-of-factly.

  “Court me?” she echoed.

  “Don’t worry. I will share my intentions with your uncle as soon as I am able.”

  “My uncle?”

  “Yes, I plan to do this correctly, Emily. And I will convince you that I am the best man for you.”

  “You will?”

  “You are beginning to sound a bit like a parrot, my dear. Are you all right?”

  Emily nod
ded. “I am quite well, thank you.”

  But she wasn’t. She wasn’t well at all. She stood and walked woodenly to the door.

  “Are you leaving now, darling?”

  “Yes. Thank you for seeing me,” she replied absently.

  “Of course. I will see you again very soon. You can count on it.”

  “That would be lovely,” Emily said as she left the room.

  The walk back to the Rose Room was done automatically. All thoughts had fled from Emily’s head. There was no confusion, no questions, no…anything. It was as if a switch had been flipped.

  The off switch.

  She sat in the sitting room surrounded by her friends and only half listened to Melinda and Eleanor tell the tale of their part in the beer flood. She only slightly perked up when Lady Lancaster told them what she had found out about the event.

  “It seems the beer came from the Horseshoe Brewery. One, or all, of the vats apparently burst. The latest reports are saying that more than a million liters of ale poured over the St. Giles neighborhood.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Rose gasped.

  “It is a tragedy,” the dowager concurred. “At least eight people have died already, and many more were injured.”

  “How could something like this happen?” Hope asked.

  “I am wondering that myself, but first we should discuss what I have learned about Miss Cooper.”

  “Me?” Eleanor asked, wide-eyed.

  “Yes, dear. It seems you have been listed as one of the deceased.”

  “Well, that is obviously not true,” Eleanor said quite unnecessarily.

  Lady Lancaster smiled. “Of which we are all aware and grateful, but the fact remains you are believed to be dead. The question is what, if anything, should we do about it?”

  “If anything?” Sarah queried. “Shouldn’t we set the authorities straight? Someone out there could still be looking for their loved one.”

  “On the other hand, Eleanor may still be in danger,” Hannah pointed out. “Those ruffians never received their money.”

  “I wonder…” Melinda said thoughtfully.

  “Wonder what, dear?” Lady Lancaster asked.