Page 27 of Choosing Her Earl at Last
“We know that, but they do not,” Michael pointed out. “They are not simply going to take our word for it. They do not trust anyone above their station asking about one of their own.”
He turned sympathetic eyes toward Emmeline. “I know that you were hoping to find something here.”
“I am not ready to surrender to defeat,” Emmeline replied stubbornly. “There has to be someone here who will speak with us.”
“Michael,” Colin interrupted, a note of warning in his voice. “The man you noticed watching us earlier…”
“What man?” Emmeline asked, not having been told anything about it.
“The man walking toward us,” Michael answered, moving to place his body in front of Emmeline’s to shield her from danger.
Emmeline was not certain whether to be touched by his protection or irritated by it. “Who is he?” she asked, trying to peer around him. The man looked around furtively as if to make certain that no one was watching them. “He looks as if he is displeased.”
“He appears to be a coachman,” Colin answered, coming to flank Emmeline’s other side. “Perhaps he did not appreciate our inquiries.”
Sighing at the level of chivalry being exhibited on her behalf, Emmeline gave up attempting to see around the men and awaited whatever was about to come. “You were asking about Martha Gouldsmith,” a deep voice resonated low enough for only their ears.
“We are,” Michael replied, placing emphasis on the present tense, leaving no doubt that they intended to continue their search. “Do you know of her?”
“I do,” the coachman admitted, his voice hesitant.
Emmeline’s heart thumped faster in her chest at hearing his confession. Impatient with her protectors blocking her path, she decided to bypass them entirely and marched around them to the other side, surprising the man when she appeared beside him seemingly from nowhere.
“Any information that you could share with us about the laundress would be of help. The matter is most urgent,” she informed him, her tone earnest. “My sister’s very life might depend upon it.”
“I cannot speak of the matter here. There are too many eyes and ears in the market who already know that you are looking for Martha. Meet me at the ball that is scheduled for a few days hence. I will wait for you at my carriage. No one will take note of us there as I am slated to drive for a family in attendance.”
“That is too long,” Emmeline argued. “If you know anything about Martha at all, please share it with us now.”
The coachman shook his head. “I will help you, but I will not risk my life and livelihood to do so. I will meet you at the ball or not at all.”
Left with no other recourse, the three of them were forced to agree, but not without warning.
“If you fail to attend the ball, I will personally use all of the resources at my considerable disposal to find you, and you will regret it,” Michael warned.
“I believe you.” The man nodded in understanding. “I will be there. You have my word.” With those parting words, he turned and disappeared into the crowded market.
“Well, that was an interesting exchange,” Colin grumbled, shaking his head. “What is he so terrified of that he could not simply tell us what he knows now? Why wait days before telling us?”
Michael shook his head. “I do not know, but for a man of that size and strength to be frightened, it tells me that whoever is behind this is a dangerous fellow.”
“That is, if this Martha person knows anything at all about who took Rebecca,” Colin noted in a disgruntled tone. His fear for Rebecca’s safety was taking a heavy toll on his patience.
“It is the only clue that we have,” Emmeline reminded him. “Without it, we have no other notion as to where to begin.”
Colin nodded in concession. “I wish it were not so.”
“As do I,” Emmeline murmured, squeezing his arm gently in compassion. “As do I.” Turning toward their own carriage, Emmeline’s foot caught on a loose cobblestone, tripping her.
“Ah,” she cried out in surprise as she began to fall toward the hard stone-paved road. Within a single frightened heartbeat, Michael was there, pulling her up and away from danger into his strong arms. Emmeline grasped the fabric of his jacket, feeling the hardened muscles beneath.
“Are you hurt?” Michael’s rich rumbling voice asked from above her, and she looked up to find his beautiful hazel eyes looking down at her with the same tender care that he had shown her the day she had fallen from her horse.
“No,” she breathed, unable to look away. “I am not harmed.”
“Good.” He nodded in relief as he set her back on her feet, then took a step back. “I am glad that I was near enough to catch you before any damage was done.”
“Yes, thank you.” Emmeline snapped her attention back to the reality of their situation.
