But Emerson ignored Ben’s response with a direct, accusing stare at Stockton.
Rose genuinely worried over Stockton’s fate.
“What of you? You must have seen something,” Emerson demanded.
“Just Mr. Haber leaving for a short time. He asked me to man the office since Ben had already departed.”
Rose stood and strode to the much needed brandy for all concerned, bringing back the entire bottle and an extra glass for Stockton. She poured out measures and handed them about.
There was a commotion coming from the foyer, and Rose moved to the door, shocked to see Sebastian. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m delivering the Earl of Hallandale into your betrothed’s capable care.”
~~~
Emerson strode into the vestibule. In one quick grim look, he assessed the situation and inclined his head. “Your Grace.”
Yates entered the hall. “I’ll have the green suite readied, sir. T’will only take a moment.” He melted away like a ghost.
Emerson hoped he could remember where the green suite was located. “Does your man require assistance bringing my cousin in?”
“No. I’ve enlisted two footmen.” Ryleigh turned to the open door and signaled. Minutes later, two liveried footmen carrying Oscar on a makeshift bed with wooden sticks stepped inside.
“Follow me, gentlemen,” Emerson told them, going past Stockton and Ben, standing in the doorway wearing shocked expressions, then led the way up the main staircase.
“Give him my chamber, Emerson,” Ben said tightly. “To avoid delay.”
Emerson nodded. The duke kept pace with him up the stairs. “What of the doctor?”
“He said if Hallandale makes it through the night, there’s a good chance he’ll survive. His name is Pogue. He’ll be along directly to check on the earl’s comfort.”
“Ben, Stockton, come back to the library,” he heard Rose urging, then the door closing.
“Did Oscar say anything?” Emerson asked.
“I fear he believes himself on his deathbed. There were some ramblings of finding a note requiring an urgent meeting with his London bankers. He insisted it was a forgery. I regret to say he was in and out of consciousness. What of the attacker?”
“Faulk said he enlisted Billy to nab him. I believe Billy and a brothel owner by the name of Cutter pooled their talents,” Emerson gritted out. “Stockton verified he came in swinging. Rose saved Billy’s favorite prostitute right out from under his nose along with Cutter’s newest and untried.”
“Rose?”
“Don’t sound so shocked, Your Grace. It was most impressive. Billy has paid his cup penance and I’ll admit, it’s most dissatisfying as the man escaped wrath by my own hands.” Emerson led them down the long opposite hall from his own rooms to Ben’s. “Through here,” he directed the footmen. He remained out of the way, allowing them to situate Oscar.
Ryleigh clamped his hand on Emerson’s shoulder. “He’s in a bad way, Whitmore. My most sincere condolences.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Emerson swallowed a choke of emotion. “For everything.”
Ryleigh nodded, and after Oscar was settled, the duke departed with his footmen, leaving Emerson alone and reeling. He went to the bed and looked down at his sleeping cousin.
His eyes flickered, then opened, unfocused. He groaned.
“Oscar, you mustn’t move.”
“Emerson?”
“You’re safe here,” Emerson told him.
“What the devil?”
