Page 53 of Pursuing a Duke
As she turned to cross back, a large, black carriage and matching four tore out of nowhere and nearly ran her down. If it weren’t for the stranger who knocked her out of the way and to the ground, his unyielding body still covering hers now, she would be injured or worse.
“Emmeline,” her rescuer said in a deep, concerned voice she knew all too well. “Are you all right? Does anything hurt?”
“Andrew. Please let me up, I can’t breathe.”
He climbed off her, held out his hand, and helped her to her feet. Mitchel was at their side, looking worried. “I saw the whole thing. It was no accident. I believe the boy was used to lure you across this street. The carriage driver was waiting for you to run you down.”
Gasping, her hands gripped Andrew’s waist as they stumbled toward the coach.
*
“Thank you forsaving her,” Mitchel said with his hand out.
“I’m Blackstone. And you are?” Andrew asked as he shook the other man’s hand, his brows raised.
“Mitchel, Your Grace. What brings you to these parts?”
By the way Mitchel looked at him, he already knew why. He would be a terrible driver and watchdog if he didn’t know Andrew followed them most of the times Emmeline traveled with them. And it was a good thing he’d cleared his appointments for that day. If not—his insides trembled, and his stomach knotted—who knew if the love of this life would be alive?
“This and that.” Andrew opened the carriage door and said, “Please get inside, my dear.” He turned to the driver and said, “I’m riding with her.”
Mitchel nodded. “I expected as much.” The door shut, and when Emmeline was settled beside him on the bench, he knocked on the roof, and they were on their way.
“How badly are you hurt?” he asked, knowing they had slid across the road as she’d landed beneath him. On purpose, of course, so his body could protect her if the coach ran them over, even though he knew it would add to her injuries by landing on top of her.
Her hand went to her temple and came away with a slight trace of blood on her glove.
Panicking, Andrew pushed her hood off and cradled her chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently turning her head from side to side. “You have a scrape on your temple. It’s not deep, but it will need to be cleaned and the small pieces of gravel removed. What else hurts?”
“My right hip and elbow. I hit the ground with them before I ended up on my stomach.” She swatted his hand away from her face. “What were you doing there?” As she admonished him, he pulled up her skirts and pulled down her pantaloons, ignoringher loud gasp. He inspected her hip, which was scraped and red. Then the elbow, as well. She was lucky, and he shivered at what could have happened if he hadn’t been there at precisely the right moment.
“I have been accompanying you nearly every time you do this foolish thing of traveling into unsafe areas of London ever since I found out about your endeavors.”
“What?” she said, looking confused.
“How hard did you hit your head?”
“Stop it. I heard what you said. You just shocked me, that’s all. How did I not know?”
“I kept hidden. Mitchel and the other man knew I did. What do you know about them? Mitchel seems familiar to me, although I can’t quite place him. I haven’t gotten close to the other man to see if he also appears familiar.”
“I would be lying if I said I hadn’t wondered about them myself a time or two. But if they work for the Duchess of Greenville, they can be trusted.”
“Yes. I gathered that. She is quite a lady, Her Grace,” Andrew said. “She kindly sends me messages with your schedule.” He glanced out the window. “I had to make a substantial donation to Amelia House so she would send me the notes. What a shrewd businesswoman. We have arrived at your home. I’ll see you in. There is something else I wish to discuss.”
Once inside the drawing room, Emmeline rang for tea, and he hoped it would help settle her nerves and his. She was silent when she sat down beside him, and he took that time to face his fear of almost losing her today. Instead of taking his carriage or horse when he followed her into the slums that day, he’d hired a hack to hide his identity more easily. Following her at night on horseback was easy, but he’d feared she might spot him in broad daylight, and he knew she would not take kindly to him following her. She would think he didn’t trust her. He did trusther—it was others he didn’t trust. Today’s incident proved how untrustworthy others could be. The beat of his heart was still elevated. When he’d caught sight of the carriage barreling down the street toward Emmeline, something inside him had snapped. With speed he didn’t know he possessed, he had run toward her, diving into her and knocking them both off to the side of the road, where he’d covered her body with his and prayed for the best.
He hadn’t expected either of them to survive as they flew through the air and landed on the ground. As he lay over her, holding his breath and waiting for the inevitable pain and death of being trampled by horses and coach, his life with Emmeline flashed before his eyes. Never in all his life had he been so frightened or felt so helpless. When the horses’ hooves and carriage wheels never made contact, he’d struggled on unsteady legs and helped Emmeline to stand.
It had taken until now for him to realize his body ached all over. Every muscle had tightened up when he’d crashed into Emmeline, and now that he was relaxed or trying to be, his muscles screamed in protest. The first thing he would do when he arrived home was take a warm bath, which made him remember Emmeline’s injuries. “You need to soak in hot water and clean your scrapes.”
Her hand flitted to her temple, and she winced. “Yes. I will get Mother to help. She was always good at patching me up when I was little.”
Just then, a footman arrived with a tray. Emmeline prepared two teas, Andrew’s just as he liked it. “There are biscuits as well if you are hungry.”
“Thank you,” he said as he accepted his cup of tea.
She sat and sipped hers, then turned to him, her eyes sad. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
