The deep voice of the doctor seemed to jolt Lucas back, his eyes rounding behind his lenses as he stared at his hands. Hands that were gripping her tightly enough to lift her slightly from the chair. He pulled them back as if they were on fire, staring from his open palms to Emma.
What was wrong with him? He’d never handled a woman that way before in his life!
“Emma, I am most sorry…”
“Lucas? I was told there was an emergency here,” a man in his late fifties strode confidently down the hall and straight into the library, looking around anxiously.
“Dr. Glasston…not an emergency, per se…I’m concerned about Emma,” Lucas shoved his palms behind him, clasping them after gesturing to the quietly watching brunette. “Emma Carstairs, Dr. Glasston.”
“What happened to you?” Dr. Glasston moved quickly to Emma, his hands out after he set the black bag on the floor.
“There was a carriage accident,” Lucas said from the side.
“These are a day or more old,” his fingers were light and cool, his gaze compelling Emma to remain still. “A carriage accident,” he murmured, his hands moving over the bruises on her face and then to her neck and shoulders. “Do you have a headache, my dear?”
“No, sir. I feel fine, actually,” she answered with a little smile when he looked down at her feet, bare toes peeking out from beneath her skirt.
“American? I had heard some stories in town,” Dr. Glasston said vaguely, his fingers moving over the sides and back of her head.
Emma jumped and winced.
“A little bump,” he murmured, his head shaking. “It would seem you escaped the accident lightly.”
“Not quite, Doctor,” Lucas looked at Emma, the frustration at his behavior troubling him. “Emma has no recollection of her past.”
“Nothing?” The older man stared at her curiously.
“Sorry,” Emma shrugged casually. “Not a thing. It’s probably for the best, really, though. From things Lucas has hinted at, I am better off not remembering people from my yesterday.”
She held still while the doctor tipped her head back and peered into her eyes.
“I’ve suggested to Emma that she might wait and let time return her memories,” Lucas said carefully. “I don’t want to overload her consciousness with information.”
“That’s a wise decision. When was the accident?” The doctor stood up and looked at Lucas.
“Two days past. On the road from London, just outside of Eastbourne,” Lucas answered precisely.
“And the stories about a gambling debt and a woman?” Dr. Glasston arched one grey brow.
“You know more what my father is capable of than anyone, Dr. Glasston,” Lucas said stiffly.
“I see.”
“I won’t be staying,” Emma announced to them both. “I don’t belong here and I’d never allow myself to be used in such a manner.”
“Interesting,” the doctor finally drawled after a lengthy pause. “Well, there is, sadly, nothing I can do to help. I can recommend you go slowly, Miss Carstairs. Physically as well as mentally,” he stepped back and lifted his bag, the lips beneath the grey moustache lifting. “But something tells me you’re a young lady with a mind of your own.”
“Thank you, doctor, that’s a wonderfully kind thing to say to a girl,” Emma extended her palm with a sturdy shake. “I really am alright. I think I…I was a little emotional for a bit…but it’s passed.”
“Having no memory is certainly worthy of a round of emotions. Should you develop a headache or have any other problems, please send someone to my home immediately,” he turned to Lucas and offered his palm. “Good day to you both. I’ve a few other rounds to make.”
“Thank you, Dr. Glasston,” Lucas walked with him from the library and into the hall.
“Given the emotions I’ve witnessed in my life from females, Lucas, consider yourself fortunate,” Dr. Glasston chuckled when they reached the porch. “And your father did truly win her in a wager?”
“Very little is kept secret in Eastbourne, doctor,” Lucas said with a sigh.
“There is little that escapes the notice of our village,” he agreed with a clap on the younger man’s shoulder. “Your father has been threatening to find you a wife since you turned thirty-two four months ago. As companions go, she seemed quite affable.”
“She keeps repeating that she doesn’t belong here,” Lucas said quietly. “When she…it was genuine fear and panic, Dr. Glasston. Not merely a case of the vapors.”
“Imagine waking with not even your name inside your mind, Lucas. Given your inventions and intelligence, I imagine that occurrence would send you into a panic, as well. I think patience and time are best for now,” he laid his bag inside his carriage. “And at the worst, she will learn to adjust and adapt and learn again.”
“Yes, of course,” Lucas nodded and stepped back. “Thank you.”
He stood silently watching the horse trot off to the road, the sounds of the late afternoon mixing with the distant roar of the ocean. A thick fog bank lie miles off shore and cast a stormy edge to the skyline.
“You really shouldn’t worry,” Emma came out behind him and plopped down on the edge of the three stairs, her legs stretched out before her. “I really am alright.”
“How can having no memory be alright, Emma?”
“Perhaps it’s how things should be. Whatever bad memories there are…aren’t now,” she said with a smile when he turned to look at her. She leaned back, her hands spread and face tipped to the sunshine. “It smells so nice after a little rain. Fresh and green. If a color can have a smell, it would be green.”
“You are an unusual woman, Emma Carstairs,” Lucas moved to sit beside her when the sounds and her sudden interest in something made him turn. The curse inside him broke free with a vehemence.
“Lucas? What’s wrong?” Emma straightened up and stared down the long drive that led from what must have been a main road to the house. “Who is it?”
“Unless I’m mistaken, it’s your father and mine,” he said flatly.
“Maybe we can run inside and lock the doors,” but she stood up and moved behind him. “Have you met him? My father.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t like him.”
Lucas chose to remain silent, watching the coach coming toward them. “I don’t care for my own father, let alone yours, Emma.”
“Why at thirty-two does he involve himself in your life? Adults have the right to make their own choices,” she said firmly, peeking around the side at the dry laugh and arched brows.
“You had no choice in your father’s actions.”
“I’m a female. We aren’t allotted choices,” she sighed. “Not much changes with time as far as females are concerned. You’re different.”
“Things will change, Emma,” he told her firmly. “If nothing else, around our corner of the world, things will be different.
She almost allowed herself to believe him, he sounded so adamant, so confident. But she knew differently. She knew the reality of it all. Emma sighed. She should be grateful. Another hundred years back and she’d be burned at the stake. Here, she’d merely be ostracized from polite society.
“What do you think they want?” She asked softly, uncertain why, but something made her move even closer to Lucas.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, her hands on his shoulders and her nearness making his body react, his cock lurched at the subtle scent of her. Her hair brushed his face when she leaned up to whisper in his ear, using his body to help her to her toes. He could feel the small, firm mounds of her breasts against his back and wondered when he’d begun to lose control of his faculties.
“I don’t want to go with him, Lucas,” she said softly, inhaling the lightest scent of something that was clearly Lucas. She wondered how they shaved in this time and wrinkled her nose at the thought of a straight razor.
“I won’t allow that to happen, Emma. Trust me,” he assured her. “My father is very good at social niceties veiled in threats.”
“Passive aggressive behavior,” she murmured with a nod. “So even when he’s saying nice things, he’s twisting the knife in my back, got it.”
“Apt description,” Lucas murmured, unconsciously moving to the side and completely shielding her when the carriage came to a stop. He waited patiently as the door opened and the two men inside disembarked. He wasn’t sure why, but the instant he saw the glaring features of them both, he wanted nothing more than to order Emma into her room and to remain until they departed. Whatever they were there for, he had a feeling it wasn’t a good thing. “Good afternoon, father. Mr. Carstairs.”
“We heard about the hijacking. Wretched thieves, these days.” Alister St. Christopher’s expression hadn’t changed, despite the words leaving his mouth. He stared at his son and Emma with complete dispassion. “It would appear you’ve rescued the girl.”
“So it would appear,” Lucas agreed very slowly. He knew his father better than anyone and what he knew now and for certain, something was most definitely off. “How did you happen to hear about the hijacking?”
“Stand up straight, girl,” James Carstairs tapped his cane on the steps in aggravation. This should not have occurred, he thought with a deepening of his scowl at the dark eyes studying him curiously. When she made no move and no sound, he stepped forward, only to have Lucas step in front of him, blocking his way. “Out of my way, boy.”
Lucas arched one brow, his attention shifting from one to the other. But his body didn’t move.
“It’s most kind of you both to appear two days after the fact and inquire about Emma’s well-being,” Lucas said dryly. “As you can see, aside from a few bruises, she’s fine.”
Lucas had never been one overly fond of the dictates of society but if it was one thing he knew, his father was a stickler for them. Which meant, logically, once the locals who had been watching the hijacking had shared the story with anyone who would listen, his father should have come immediately to the house.
Not only checking on Emma, but checking on his son, as well. Lucas was the one who had jumped onto a waiting horse and taken after the carriage. He was the one who had leaped onto the carriage top and removed the man at the reins. It had been Lucas who attempted to stop the runaway horses to save an unconscious Emma. Yet here stood his father, not mentioning a thing. Puzzling.
“I was also concerned for you,” Alister St. Christopher glared at his son before turning his gaze on Emma. “My apologies, my dear.”
“You didn’t bring flowers,” Emma said with a deliberately petulant swing to her voice. “Why are you concerned for Lucas? Was he unconscious in the carriage, too?”
“Was…” her father looked at her with a deepening frown.
“You knocked me out. You drugged me,” she continued thoughtfully, deciding she’d get the entire story one way or another.
“You were hysterical,” James Carstairs corrected her firmly. “I gave you a sleeping draught to calm you.”
“You gambled me away to a stranger in a card game. Now why in heaven’s name would I be distraught?” Emma laughed at the reddened face of her father and the other man. “So here I was, in a carriage with my trunks, unconscious. Left alone on the curb, when some crazed individual came along and decided to steal the carriage. Where were you? Why did you leave the carriage unattended?”
“This was a most unfortunate incident…” Alister began cautiously.
“We were preparing for departure inside the inn,” James Carstairs said flatly.
“Why were you there, Lucas?” Emma asked abruptly, forgetting not only her place but that she should never interrupt her betters. She let the puzzle pieces form in her mind.
“I was summoned to meet my intended bride,” he said, the words low and edged with anger. “When I arrived at the inn where they were meeting, you were already in the carriage, unconscious, only I didn’t know until the thing was hijacked.”
“What happened?” She asked softly, her right hand sliding down his arm to twine her fingers with his. Forward, she knew, but something wasn’t right. He was aggravated and very angry but she wasn’t sure at whom.
“The fool mounted a strange horse and tore after the carriage like some kind of crazed circus rider,” Alister St. Christopher declared flatly. “Damn fool could have been killed. Then where would this family be?”
“Decidedly penniless,” Lucas returned without emotion.
“You stopped the carriage?” Emma asked, looking at the implacable features of the man in front of her.
“I removed the hijacker but couldn’t stop the carriage,” Lucas said quietly, recalling the fury at too many people in that moment of time before he was thrown from the rider’s box. “I was thrown free when it crashed off the side of the road and into the field.”
“Were you hurt? Are you bruised? You should have told the doctor when he was here,” Emma squeezed the fingers she held.
“I learned how to tumble and fall when I lived in the Orient for a few years, Emma, I am fine, thank you,” Lucas assured her with an unseen softness in his voice.
Emma laid her cheek against his shoulder and smiled.
“My hero,” she murmured, jumping the next instant when a low throat cleared behind her. “Oh, god…scare me, why don’t you. Make some noise beforehand…shuffle or something.”
“I am most sorry, Miss Carstairs,” but he hid the smile, meeting the eyes of his employer. “Should I inform cook about extra guests, my lord?”
“No,” Lucas answered instantly. “My father’s house is just down the lane and we did not invite them for dinner.”
“Very good, sir. Cook informs me dinner is ready when you are,” Harris enjoyed his position with Lucas St. Christopher, despite the odd manners of the man. He was fair, honest and didn’t possess the high and lofty attitudes of too many of the elite, despite his position.
“A few minutes, thank you, Harris,” Lucas had never taken his gaze from the two older men for long. He still had that niggling feeling at the back of his neck and that never ended well. “As you can see, we have plans for the evening. Since neither of you were pressed to investigate the accident, or Emma’s well-being before now, I can only assume you’ve had far more pressing matters on your minds.”
“Did they catch him?” Emma asked abruptly, frowning at the sudden look of evasion on their faces. “The man who stole the carriage,” she clarified when no one spoke. “Did they catch him?”
“He struck the ground and took off at a run. I lost sight of him, Emma. I was too concerned for you once the carriage careened off the road to go back and search,” Lucas had also seen the look on his father’s face. “Is there anything else, father? Mr. Carstairs?”
“You’re going to deny me time with my daughter?”
“I – am denying you time with your daughter,” Emma said without flinching at the curse he uttered. Mild by her standards, she thought, almost laughing. “A father who gambles his daughter away has no rights. I don’t expect to see you or spend time with you ever again, to be honest.”
“Careful, girl, I won’t tolerate your disrespect,” James Carstairs took a step closer, his fist clenched on the accessory cane he carried.
“Where is my mother? Did you gamble her away, too?”
Lucas doubted she was even aware of the light, quizzical sound to her voice, almost childlike.
James Carstairs’ free hand came out at the same time it was grasped by Alister and pulled back.
“We shall find another way,” Alister said quietly, his dark eyes piercing as they flit from Emma to Lucas. “Propriety says she should not be with you in this house until after the nuptials, boy.”
“And you know how much I care for propriety, father. Emma is safe here. I don’t gamble,” Lucas informed his father flatly. “Good day to you both,” he moved carefully, keeping himself between James Carstairs and Emma.
“Well, that was interesting,” Emma spun and walked off down the wide hall to the scents of food coming from the dining hall. Even as the sun was setting outside, it hadn’t cooled off any. She knew little about the climate of England, but guessed that a house by the ocean would be a little cooler with the off shore breeze. She sighed, pausing in the doorway and looking around at the dimly lit room.
Why couldn’t her memories be gone along with whatever life this Emma had endured through her years? Evidently depression wasn’t something that was left behind when some deity mucked about with your life.
“Emma?”
She jerked herself back with a sharp breath and looked up at him. Somehow she found a smile and pulled it into place.
“Yes, Lucas?”
“Where do you go off to? You look so sad…”
“Oh, no…maybe just tired, I think,” she shrugged it off and went to the chair she’d used that afternoon. “I’m not very hungry. Would you mind if I went to bed? I don’t want to be rude to you. You’ve been so nice, considering what our parents have thrust you into,” she gripped the high back of the chair but she couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes.
“Of course, Emma. I should have given some thought to it being your first day up.” Lucas wasn’t sure what had happened. He watched her go with an odd emptiness inside him. He didn’t know where she had gone that had taken the effervescent woman from him. The strong, impish girl that had skipped through the house and slid down his banister had vanished.
He sat down, offering a vague nod at Harris. “Send Nancy up to see to anything Emma might need, Harris.”
“Yes, sir,” he went to give the instruction to the young woman, returning with the dinner plate for his young master. “She’s on her way now. Is there something I can be of help with?”
“I don’t know, Harris,” Lucas ate and knew it must have been good, but he barely tasted it, even when he realized the plate was empty.
He sat at the dining table for a long time, just staring.
This wasn’t normal. For the last two days he’d sat at her bedside hour after hour, watching her. Until she woke and believed she was in the middle of a dream, he’d never met her. Never seen her awake and animated. Once animated, though, something about Emma had taken a firm grasp on his insides the instant he looked into those wide, brown eyes.
“Harris…” Lucas continued toying with the goblet, turning it slowly in his fingers. He didn’t look away from the red wine inside the fine crystal. He didn’t have to look up to know Harris had answered his call.
“Sir.”
“You might want this task for yourself. In which case, assign one of your assistants to cover your duties while you’re away,” Lucas took in a long, slow breath, thinking over things the two unwanted men had spoken of on the stairs of his home. “I want information and begin at the Inn where my father and James Carstairs were staying. You might even see about a short term hire of Galen Greystorme. It is his profession, after all. I want you to speak to anyone who might have seen the thief who took Emma’s carriage and I want to know if he’s been seen since. I’d like to find him. I want to know anything anyone knows about my father and Carstairs. I find it a tad odd that my father wins his daughter in a card game, and suddenly they’re best of friends.”
“I don’t know James Carstairs,” Harris began slowly. “But I do know your father’s reputation at the card tables.”
“Which accounts for his financial troubles,” Lucas agreed with a nod. “Which brings another question to mind. Find where they were gaming and see what sort of gamer Carstairs is.”
“Intuition, sir?”
“Flat out suspicion, Harris,” he lifted the glass and drained the wine. “And make certain those on guard around the workshop and house, have been made aware and alert. I don’t like the sensation of my neck prickling and believe me, those two set it off like a fox from the hounds.”
“I’ll handle it first thing in the morning, sir,” Harris said with a nod. “And I’ll make certain Miss Carstairs is carefully and discretely watched.”
“I know you will, Harris,” Lucas said, lost in thought as he wandered out to his workshop.