Page 77 of The Hellion and the Captain
“Miss Whitmore,” Lord Harcourt greeted her, awaiting her at the door as she approached. Lily’s father was professional, nodding at Emmaline as she entered, but he followed her to the table and pulled out her chair for her, helping her settle.
The other five men sat when she did, all staring at her expectantly. A bead of sweat began to form at her temple, and she pretended to push back a lock of hair as she wiped it away.
“Gentlemen,” she began. “Thank you very much for agreeing to listen to my presentation today.”
They nodded, a few smiling at her, especially the portly, older, white-bearded man, Lord Nesbitt who she recognized, as well as Lord David, a man near her own age who was promised to her friend Ada in all but actual contract.
“Manchester Central has been a well-respected club for years, made even more so last year when they nearly won the FA Cup,” she began. “I have followed the team for years, myself.”
She waited for any of them to interject, but they all were still staring at her, waiting for her to get to her point.
“While the men’s game is popular and well established throughout the country, women’s clubs are increasing in popularity,” she said, and now her words caused the men to start looking at one another from the sides of their eyes, shifting back and forth uneasily in their chairs.
“There are women’s clubs all over England, although no league has formed yet,” she pushed on. “The women’s teams have supporters. They have women of great talent playing for them.”
“That is all well and good,” a man of about her father’s age interrupted, his black, oiled beard matching his hair combed over the top, “but what does it have to do with us?”
“I will come to that,” she said, trying to smile and show patience. “The women who play on those clubs are primarilyworking-class women. They are admirable players, and I appreciate their drive, but I believe there is room for more. Often, in my experience, which I have a great amount of, it is women of the middle- or upper-class who have ample time available to them. Who are constantly seeking out hobbies and activities. However, even if they are interested in football, they cannot play on a club that would be considered beneath them.”
She hated even saying that, for she wished that all could play together, but she also realized that she would have to start somewhere. Creating the team was the first step. From there, she could alter things, hopefully without any of these men noticing.
“I believe that Manchester Central could have two clubs. Partners, if you will. A men’s team and a women’s team. We could even lead the drive to create a women’s league that we could play within.”
The men did not attempt to hide their disdain, some of them murmuring to each other in low voices.
Then the black-haired man did the very last thing she would expect.
He burst out laughing. He laughed long and hard, clutching his middle, and by the time he finished, tears rolling down his cheeks, Emmaline’s anger had grown to a nearly untamed power beneath the surface.
“Ladies playing football? You cannot be serious,” he gasped between chuckles.
“I wish I could say that your reaction is opposite to what I expected,” she said, gritting her teeth together. “But all you need to do is come to one of our practices to understand. You can see for yourself how well it is working.”
Lord Harcourt leaned forward. He wasn’t the warmest of men, but he had undoubtedly become more approachable through everything that had happened with Lily and Colinover the past year. When he patted her hand, Emmaline knew he was doing so out of kindness, but she couldn’t help but feel his condescension toward her.
“You have great dreams, Emmaline, but I’m afraid they are far off. Thank you for visiting us.”
Everything within Emmaline wanted to stand up and fight.
But she knew from all her mother had taught her that today was not that day. She would try again another time and leave with grace.
Then she would go home, allow shame to wash over her that she had ever had any hope, and decide whether she was done with this or if she still had it in her to fight for change.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emmaline stared at the river flowing before her.
She was supposed to be with the team. They had scheduled an extra practice and a dinner this week, as the championship game was in just a few days and Rhys had suggested they could use a few more sessions together.
She had been given her new uniform and had practiced, for she hadn’t wanted to let her team down, but she had escaped immediately afterward, hoping no one had noticed her leave.
Yesterday, she had gone to the practice field in hopes that she could bring the uniform home with her and dress before the game, while also getting in a few practice reps, in anticipation of the game to come.
But the more threats she felt from all sides—her brother, Victor Reeves—the more she wondered whether she was still doing the right thing.
She had formed a pile of rocks beside her, and she picked them up, throwing them into the moving water one at a time, watching the water ripple in circles as they sank to the bottom.
“This doesn’t look like dinner with the team,” said a low,gruff voice from behind her – one that caused her every nerve to tingle when she heard it.
