He grinned despite his fatigue, despite his worry over her injury, and despite the unknown plans of her enemies. “The detective you met two years ago had no compunction about how he would have carried you up those stairs. You’re fortunate John Smith is a gentleman.”
“Well, Mary Smith is grossly insulted by your utter lack of circumspection. A lady needn’t know a man’s arms are sore from carrying her across her bridal threshold.” She paused and looked at the room as if for the first time. She blew out a puff of air and rubbed her eyes. “Oliver,” she said quietly, “thank you.”
He managed a smile. “You’re welcome.” He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck. A quick glance in the washroom showed a small bathing tub with plumbed water, which was a welcome sight.
He returned to Emme, who still sat, unmoving, on the bed. Her feet dangled a few inches from the floor, the casted foot marginally larger. “Gus suggested the swelling may reduce. If the cast becomes loose, tell me immediately.”
She grimaced. “I do not wish to return to that hospital. Sam and Hazel will be here soon. They can tend to me, if needed.”
He nodded and checked windows, the wardrobe, the security of the outer door, and the door connecting their rooms.
“When you wish it, I’ll secure the services of a hotel maid. Human or ’ton, whichever you prefer.”
“I’ll need a human maid right away, actually. Without my trunks, I’ll need her to go to a local shop for a dinner dress. I have the ISRO meet-and-greet this evening. Dining and dancing.” She looked dubiously at her foot.
“You’ll be there, never fear. You may not dance much, but you’ll be in attendance.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks to you, Detective-Inspector. I owe you everything.”
He waved a hand at her with a wink. “Promise me no shenanigans between now and the final Summit event, and your debt is paid.” He picked up a telephone earpiece from the desk and dialed the office. He requested help for Emme’s shopping errand, a tea tray, and a maid to help Emme freshen up. “We must keep up appearances,” he told her as he hung up the phone, “and preserve your good standing.”
“Or your continued good standing.”
“Yes, also my continued good standing. There’s little worse than a man’s ruined reputation.”
She rolled her eyes and looked at him. “A man’s reputation is ruined due to unpaid debts or dishonest business practices. A woman’s reputation is ruined if a man compromises her morally.”
“I do see the inequity.” He crossed the room and looked out the windows, taking stock of the yard behind the inn, the stables and autocar garage, and the neighboring businesses. “Regrettably, all I have to offer unjust society as a whole”—he twitched the curtain back in place and returned to her—“is a healthy, equitable respect for one Emmeline Castle O’Shea.” He sat down next to her on the bed’s edge. “The rights of women. I see another cause in your future.”
She sighed. “It is a cause already underway. I have the energy for but one at a time.”
“Fortuitous, then, that you’ll be able to take on something already organized and in place. You would be welcomed with open arms.”
She turned her head and offered a wry smile. “Mr. Reed, are you sympathetic to the suffragette cause?”
“I am sympathetic to any cause that rights an egregious wrong. My only request is that a semblance of civility is observed.”
She looked at her foot for some time before murmuring, “I cannot believe this is happening. I do not have time for it!” Her eyes were huge when she turned them to him. “Oliver, what am I going to do?”
The fact that she was asking him such a thing spoke volumes about not only her anxiety level but her extreme fatigue. The Emme he knew formulated her own plans. The Emme he knew jumped out of airships. A glance at her foot was explanation enough, though. This injury heaped on the mountain of existing stress was enough to make anyone feel helpless.
“The first thing you are going to do is take a bath with the help of a maid. Then you will don the fluffy robe I spied in the dressing room and take a good, long nap.”
She blinked, and he wondered if she’d understood a word he’d said.
“Yes. Very well.” He carefully put her arm around his neck and lifted her to her feet. With his arm around her waist, he half carried her to the washroom, and, hooking his foot around a small stool near the sink, set her down. He turned on the water, hearing the hiss of the gas heating mechanism. He tested the water temperature, talking to Emme over his shoulder.
“My mother had a theory—everything in life was manageable after a nice, long warm bath. I’m inclined to agree with her.” He stood up as the tub began to fill and looked at Emme, who stared back at him with unfocused eyes.
He sighed and knelt in front of Emme, carefully removing her other boot. She stared at her legs, one bare from the knee down and grotesquely discolored with bruises before disappearing into the plaster cast that looked like a hard white stocking.
He took her hands in his. “Emme.”
She looked at him, unblinking.
“This could be much worse. Your family could be planning your funeral today.”
Finally, she blinked slowly and took a breath. She exhaled and nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, touching her forehead to his.
“You’re welcome. The maid should be here momentarily. I’ll send her in.”
She nodded. “I can manage in the meantime. My schedule for the day . . . there are people I must contact.”
“Yes. I’ll do that while you rest.”
A knock sounded at the door. “That will be either the maid or our new friend, Gus.” He nodded toward the filling tub. “Watch the water level.” He
