“I-I shall see. You’ll be all right? Here, alone?”
“Of course, my lord,” she said with a demureness Emerson wished he were witnessing face-to-face.
The door latched shut, his footsteps non existent in the hall hushed by the thick carpet.
A second later. “Mr. Whitmore, are you still about?”
Emerson shot to his feet and stormed around the settee in a flash. “You little fool.” But he was speaking to her lovely backside.
She’d jumped to her feet and was hurrying to the door. “I’m leaving by way of the servant stairs, sir. You should leave too.”
Right.“Yes, that is quite clear.” Emerson stepped around her to the door and cracked it. All was quiet. “Hurry, now.”
There were no mishaps, short of dodging a few of the kitchen staff bustling about, to make it out a side door and into the garden.
“Where is your carriage?” he asked her.
“Follow me,” she said.
He did down a long procession of waiting conveyances to the very end. “Good God,” he muttered.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I was quite late, so it shall be easy enough to disentangle from the hordes. What of yours?”
“I came by foot,” he said. “It’s not far from Manchester Square. I shall ride with you to your home and walk from there.”
She went to dispute the situation, but he stopped her by sweeping her off her feet and into his arms. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
“You’ve turned your ankle, remember?”
Lady Stanford groaned.
“Which one is it?”
“Why does that matter?” she muttered. “The left, I supposed.”
Emerson grinned. “Not your ankle, my lady. Your carriage.”
“Oh. Yes, of course. There.” She pointed. “The one on the end.”
“What is your man’s name?”
“Lady Stanford?” The young man from atop the carriage had spotted them.
“Yes, it’s Lady Stanford,” Emerson answered for her.
She moved her face into his shoulder and moaned.
“What happened?” The man jumped to the ground and had the carriage door open and the steps flipped out just as Emerson reached them.
“Your mistress tripped and twisted her ankle. It’s nothing serious, but we didn’t wish to take any chances,” Emerson said smoothly. “What is your name?”
“Dobbs, sir.”
“Excellent, Dobbs. Let us see Lady Stanford to her door whereby then I shall take my leave.”
Lady Stanford’s body shook in his arms. He hoped she wasn’t one of those felines who resorted to tears at inopportune moments.
“Of course, sir.”
