Page 16 of To Heal a Broken Earl
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Michael stood at the rail of the boat, next to his friend, Wright. Wright was speaking to one of his men while Michael studied the traffic pattern on the Thames. Even with darkness upon them, boats of all sizes floated alongside the outside edges of the river. Their boat was in the center, moving at a faster clip than most of the other, smaller boats that surrounded them.
He studied the small cutter they were on, glad that Wright had joined them. The boat was long, lean, and shallow. Two weathered watermen, sitting side by side, fluidly moved two long oars through the water, rhythmically slicing through the surface while periodically taking orders from Wright as they maneuvered the craft past other boats and rafts scattered along the Thames. From the back, Armstrong’s two guards, who’d been waiting for them when they arrived, scanned the area around them, looking for any sign that they had been followed.
Michael could see men moving on the shores of the Thames, but with the dim light provided, he couldn’t see more than their shadowed figures. With nothing to see there, he allowed his mind to wander back to when they first arrived atthe boat, the first few minutes of boarding, when his friend had turned his attention to Emma, creating a familiar irritation—one he was used to dealing with when Wright and beautiful women occupied the same room.
Emma kissed Katie’s forehead and let her look around with Doris as she approached the railing next to Michael. “I’m glad to have finally made it to the boat. It’s been a long day. The plan went off smoothly. Did you plan all of this—all from London?” she’d asked, her eyes glittering with excitement as she looked from Michael to Wright.
Michael smiled. “I’m glad you think it’s working well, Lady Emma. The main thing is to get you and Katie to safety. But no. I didn’t plan it all. It was a team effort.”
Wright cleared his throat. “Will I be getting an introduction?” he asked his friend.
“Certainly. Allow me to introduce Lady Emma Grantham. Emma, this is Viscount Asher H. Wright, a friend of mine,” Michael replied.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Emma,” Wright said, taking her hand and gently kissing it.
A sharp, twisting sensation pierced Michael’s chest, like a knife carving into his heart. Adding to this irritation, his pulse sped up. Despite his taking a calming breath, the rapid pulse wouldn’t quite subside, and he was certain it was a response to what was going on around him. Wright had wasted no time in enchanting Emma, even as she had still been dressed as a boy. Although his best friend had vowed never to marry, Wright began to charm Emma, something of a routine when he was with the ladies.
“You were right about her, Michael,” Wright said, picking up Emma’s hand and turning it in his, looking her in the eye. “My lady, you’re pulling off this ruse with little trouble—although now that I have realized you are a lady, and a beautiful one at that, I cannot unsee your beauty. I fear it shall be impossible for me to ignore your presence,” he said before directing one of his men to show Emma, Katie, and Doris to the small cabin where they could rest. Wright’s charm with women had always been so effortless.
The irritation that pulsed through Michael puzzled him. They were in a race to get to his manor house before being discovered by the arsonist, and he kept replaying this scene in his mind, almost clouding it from anything else. Wright’s flirtatious ways had never irritated him thus.
When he glanced at Emma, he noticed her face had turned a lovely shade of pink, illuminated by the yellow-tinged lantern light, and felt a sinking feeling. The irritation this time felt different—more personal.
Was this—could this truly be—jealousy? The thought was foreign and unsettling. He had never been a jealous person. He felt possessiveness, a feeling he hadn’t felt since he was ten and reluctantly had to share his beloved pony with his cousin, a memory he had long since buried. The intensity of his feelings surprised Michael and stirred a whirlwind of confusion. They were friends.
He gave his head a slight shake, as if to clear it and wipe the thoughts away.
Michael had begun to think of Wright more like a brother since they had met nearly a year ago. The man was always the first one to show up to help, always willing to lend a hand. No amount of money could ever reflect the value of his life, which Wright had helped save. Michael would surely have perished in the cave where they found him. He had been beaten, starved, tied to a chair, and left to drown as high tide rushed in—and Michael had been too weak to do much to save himself.
When Wright and his friend, Edward Sinclair, found Michael in the cave, he had been suffering from what could have been fatal wounds. Yet he had been saved by men he had never met before, who would go on to become his best friends and most trusted allies.
Wright and Baron Edward Sinclair had taken him to the home of Lord and Lady Matthew Romney to heal. Lady Bethany Romney, an American who had saved Matthew’s life during the Battle of New Orleans, had been trained in herbal healing. Her efforts were instrumental in saving Michael’s life. The only outward sign of his injuries was his limp—something he still had difficulty acknowledging.
As he wrestled with his frustrations, Emma appeared from the small cabin, seeming more refreshed.
“Katie and Doris are sleeping,” she said, smiling. “Doris fell asleep almost immediately. Katie needed a bedtime story.”
“They were both so exhausted, they could barely keep their eyes open,” Michael said, smiling. “My bet is the sleepy chaperone and your niece will sleep until we arrive in Gravesend. Once the boat arrives at the port in Gravesend, then it could take another hour’s carriage ride—maybe longer, depending on traffic and conditions—before we arrive at Wilton House.”
“It’s a welcome relief after the long carriage ride to be able to stand and move about,” she said. She looked around at the river and then up at Michael. “Everything has moved so quickly on this trip.”
“Yes, it has,” Michael said. She needed some sleep. He felt like a cad for not immediately encouraging her to rest. But throughout the trip, he had begun to realize that he enjoyed having her near, conversing with her. He was astonished that it had taken him untilthismoment to appreciate her beauty. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but we needed to act swiftlyto create confusion with the arsonist and to get you and Katie to safety.”
“Yes, I understand,” Emma said. “I am so grateful to you and to Lord Wright and Lord Armstrong for everything you’ve done.”
“You are most welcome,” Wright said with a smile as he approached. “It has been my pleasure to assist in any way that I can.”
Michael cleared his throat, irritated once again by the charming smile Wright gave Emma—and her answering smile. “It’s been a long day, Lady Emma, and I am certain you are exhausted,” he said. “We have about five hours before we arrive at Gravesend. Perhaps you should retire to the cabin and get some sleep.”
Emma nodded. “I think you’re right. I could use a couple of hours to rest my eyes.”
The sound of the cabin door opening drew their attention, and they turned to see Katie stepping onto the deck, her doll clutched to her chest.
“Katie, what are you doing awake?” Emma asked, rushing over to her and picking her up.
“Doris rolled over and I fell off the bed,” Katie said, wiping at the sleep in her eyes.
