“I am sure you have,” Emmeline replied crisply. “But you haven’t received anything like this fighting to keep me safe before.”
“Emmeline.” Oliver began.
Emmeline sucked in a breath because she saw regret on his face. She knew he was going to say that he had a job to do and now that it was done it was time to move on. She could see it on his face. Whatever that moment had been just now when he had promised her that they would work together, it had clearly been confined to them fighting Smidgley and his men. It had nothing to do with their togetherness as a couple.
Feeling a goose for having been so foolishly optimistic as to think he had wanted them to work together on a more personal level, Emmeline smiled bravely at him despite the sharp sting of tears.
“Now, let’s get you inside and cleaned up, shall we? I think we need to leave your friends to get this lot to gaol. You need to take stock of the damage they have done to you and decide then what you are going to do about the Smidgley’s uncle. I don’t doubt he will need to be the next one to be put behind bars. It might be best to leave it for a day or two, though, before you challenge anybody else.” She offered him a watery smile and turned to face the house. “I will go and put some water on to boil, I think.”
Oliver blinked at her, wondering what he had missed over the last few minutes. For a moment, he had been certain she was going to cry. But she hadn’t. Instead, she seemed almost hurt about something. He squinted carefully at her as she walked to the house. There was a slight limp to her gait. He slowly eased himself upright and was about to go after her to find out what was wrong when Harry appeared beside him.
“Do you think you need a doctor?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t, but I am not sure if she does,” Oliver growled with a nod toward Emmeline.
“I didn’t think he would be this bold,” Harry replied softly.
“Me either,” Oliver admitted.
“Best to get the uncle next then, eh?”
Oliver nodded. “We have to move quickly. We don’t know what Sir Hugo is up to, but now that we have the twins, we must go after that uncle before he disappears. We don’t want him alerting anybody in London to their being a problem.”
“The others are now on watch at Smidgley Hall. So far, the uncle has yet to leave the damned place. Thankfully, Niall saw Rupert leave and managed to alert us or we wouldn’t have known he was here,” Harry replied.
“I am glad you managed to get here in time.” Oliver, determined to find out what was wrong with Emmeline, began to half-walk, half-shuffle toward the house. The more he stood still the more he began to ache from head to toe. Even his teeth ached, but it was of little consequence given that Emmeline might not have come away as unscathed as she pretended.
“Let me know if you need a doctor.”
“Get this lot off to gaol, Harry. By the time it is done, I should be ready to go after the uncle,” Oliver called.
“We have to round up help for that. The house is heavily guarded. We need to plan the next operation very, very carefully.”
Oliver threw Harry a rueful look. “If that uncle moves, arrest him. I don’t care what trumped up charges you use. Do it and kill anybody who stands in your way. That’s an order.”
Harry pursed his lips and watched Oliver go but didn’t say anything else. He knew that was what the men had wanted to do all along. At least now that Smidgley had attacked Oliver and Emmeline, and come to the safe house to do it, they didn’t have to break any laws to get Rupert Smidgley behind bars. Harry had to wonder if that was the way Oliver and Sir Hugo had planned everything to happen.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Oliver caught up with Emmeline in the kitchen. She was putting a pot of water on to boil and ripping up some cloth into strips, a veritable hive of activity. At first glance, it didn’t appear that anything was wrong. But Oliver knew her well enough to know she was tense, and on edge, and deeply upset about something.
“What are you doing?” he murmured gently, watching her jerky movements.
Emmeline looked fragile, as though a strong gust of wind was going to shatter her into a thousand tiny pieces.
“Getting some things ready. We need to get you cleaned up. Do you think you need to see a doctor?” She asked, her voice brisk and business-like.
“Emmeline.”
“Because if we don’t get those wounds cleaned and dressed properly you are apt to get an infection. That is the last thing you need,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Emmeline.” Oliver watched her bustle this way and that around the kitchen before he carefully stepped closer.
“Has everyone gone to take them to gaol? Thank Heaven for that,” she replied, heaving a sigh when she peered out of the window only to find the stable yard completely empty.
“Emmeline. Stop.”
“I just need to get these things together.” She slapped them down onto the table and looked out at the still laden washing line. “I really must get that washing in before it starts to rain.”