Page 74 of The Hellion and the Captain
“It’s nothing, Emmaline. Let me handle it.”
She stopped walking, rounding in front of him and placing her hands on her hips. “You better tell me, or I will find another way to discover your actions. A way that you won’t be nearly as happy about.”
He sighed, running a hand over his beard.
“Fine. I had a discussion with the captain of the Athletics.”
“And?”
“And I told him that Reeves was becoming overly obsessed with our club and that if he didn’t back off, the rivalry wouldn’t be so friendly anymore.”
“He agreed?”
Emmaline had a hard time believing that. A captain was true to his teammates. She knew that as her own captain was a shining example of it.
“He knows what Reeves is like and agreed to talk to him. It must have worked. At least, I hope it did.”
Emmaline bit her lip. “We still think this is all worth it?”
“If this is what you want to do, Emmaline, then I am here with you. Every step of the way.”
She slid her hand down next to her leg and briefly touched her pinky to his. She was certain that no one else would even notice, but it was enough of a connection to sate her need to touch him and have her skin rest against his.
He glanced at her, the fire in his eyes telling her he felt the same, but there wasn’t much they could do about it now.
Not when suspicion was still coming at her from far too many places.
“Are we still on for the women’s football practice tonight?”
“Of course,” he said. “When do you speak to the club committee?”
“Lily has secured an audience for me through her father for next weekend.”
“Right before the championship?”
“That’s right,” she said, even if talk of it had her nerves fluttering all over again.
“You can do this, Emmaline,” he said. “I believe in you.”
“And that,” she said with a small smile, “is what matters to me the most.”
Emmaline’s parents were still suspiciously eyeing her, but she thought she had managed to evade them for now. She had asked all about Freddie’s match against Manchester Central, commiserating with them over Freddie’s loss.
“Are you going to the Manchester Central game on the weekend?” she asked.
“The championship? I think so,” her father mused, although he didn’t look up from his book.
“I assumeyouare, Emmaline, although you haven’t been nearly as interested in the club as you used to be,” her mother noted.
“I’ve been so busy with the women’s team that it has been difficult,” she said, although that was only a half-truth, for no matter how busy she became, she would always have time for Manchester Central.
“Of course,” her mother murmured. “You have been committed to your cause, Emmaline. If you need anything from me, please let me know, and I will be happy to help you.”
“Thank you, Mother,” she said. “Once I approach the club committee, if you could put in a good word for me with anyone you know who sits upon it, I would appreciate it.”
“By then, we will be made a mockery of,” her father mumbled, until he caught Emmaline’s pursed lips. “But it is worth it if you follow your passion, Emmaline.”
Emmaline couldn’t help but smile. As a baron, her father was held to the expectations of his title, yes, but he had already gone against what was expected of him when he had married the daughter of a shipping magnate. Her mother loved to tell the story of the first society event her family had been invited to. Emmaline’s father had asked her to dance before he had known who she was, and he fell in love with her within minutes. He was so smitten that he hadn’t cared after that who she was or where she came from.
