Page 90 of The Hellion and the Captain
Emmaline began laughing as she laced her fingers through Rhys’s. He knew it was more affection than most of her ilk showed, but he would take it.
“I know Rhys probably came here to ask Father for my hand and all of that, but I figured it was easiest just to tell you all, as we already decided.”
“Did you now?” her father said, lifting a brow behind hisspectacles. He seemed such a quiet, unassuming man, but Rhys had a feeling that he had always planned for his daughter to marry someone much more… refined than he was.
“I would still like to ask you for her hand in marriage,” Rhys quickly interjected. “I would like to ask all of you, for you all play such a great role in Emmaline’s life. I do not know how much you know about me, but I am happy to share more.”
“I told them that you are a bank manager, and that you do well for yourself,” Emmaline said, placing her hand on his leg and looking at him deeply in his eyes. “But most importantly, I told them I love you, and that you love me back.”
“Do you love her?” her mother asked, and Rhys nodded.
“Very much so.”
“Well, then,” Lady Daughtry said, shrugging her shoulders. “I am not certain what else we can say. We always told our children they could marry someone they loved, as we did, Michael. I cannot imagine asking them to do any differently. Mr. Lockwood, you seem like a good young man. Emmaline tells me that you have built your career from the education your parents insisted on and became not only a bank manager but the captain of a football club. That is admirable.”
“What we truly care about,” her father said quietly, “is that our daughter is looked after.”
“I vow always to do so,” Rhys said.
“Very well,” her father said. “You have my blessing.”
“Hold on a minute,” Freddie interjected, standing. “You do realize that Lockwood here kept Emmaline’s secret all season? That he allowed her to play on a football pitch with men? How is that looking after her?”
“From the way I see it, he protected her as best he could while allowing her to make her own decisions,” Lady Daughtry said in a tone that was lightly chastising her grownson. “How is that any different from what your father does for me?”
“Well, I—” Freddie began, but then it seemed he couldn’t think of an answer.
“I appreciate what you have done for our daughter, Mr. Lockwood,” Lady Daughtry said. “At this point, we are all trying to say, welcome to the family.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Emmaline and Rhys wasted no time.
Not only did they have their parents’ considerations, but the two of them had no greater wish than to be wed as quickly as possible.
After their conversation with Rhys, Emmaline had privately told her mother the true depth of her feelings toward him. Her mother had taken one look at her and said they would contact the church about reading the banns that upcoming week.
“If you are anything like me,” her mother had said wryly, “it is likely already too late, but we shall do our best.”
Emmaline had to contain her laugh as she had agreed, although three weeks seemed too long to be away from Rhys.
He had made sure to call upon her whenever he could, and they had still kept to their weekly training sessions with the women’s football club.
There was plenty of talk about the woman who had played with Manchester Central.
As far as Emmaline or Rhys had heard, no one besides the Manchester Central players were aware that Emmaline was thewoman in question, although there were more than a few questioning glances sent Emmaline’s way by the women at the training sessions. When one young lady had been brave enough to ask her, Emmaline had coyly deflected the question, asking her if she had been inspired.
Emmaline would have loved to have taken credit amongst all of society, but women playing football had not exactly been well received by anyone, high or low society alike. A woman playing among men? That was another story altogether. She cringed at the words thrown at women football players.
“It’s not fair,” she had told Rhys after one practice, which had been held as secretively as ever. “If a woman is good at the sport, she is called masculine, unwomanly. However, if she plays poorly, then the detractors say she is proving their point. We cannot win.”
“No, you’ll never win the argument against those who are stuck in their ways, as unfair as it is,” Rhys agreed. “But you can win the long game, if we stick to it.”
And so they did. Their first match was set up against another team, comprised of working-class Manchester women. Emmaline could hardly wait, even if her players seemed slightly more trepidatious about it.
“I’m not sure if you are more looking forward to our wedding or to this football match,” Rhys said one evening, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he did.
Emmaline had been quick to reassure him.
