Page 28 of The Hellion and the Captain (Scandals and Scores #2)

Chapter Twenty-Three

R hys waited impatiently in front of the train.

All of his players were accounted for, boarded, and ready to leave for Berkshire to take on Eton College.

All except one.

“Lockwood!” called out Lord Harcourt from the train platform a few cars ahead. “What is the hold up? We need everyone boarded.”

“Just waiting on Williams, my lord,” he called back.

So many things could have gone wrong. Emmaline could have been caught leaving the house. Her parents could have insisted that she accompany them as Emmaline, for they were planning to make the trip to watch Freddie play.

If she didn’t show up—as Emmett—then Manchester Central would have to play a player short. And those were only concerns about the immediate repercussions for the team, saying nothing of what else might have been discovered about Emmaline.

Just as the train whistle sounded, leaving Rhys no choice but to board, a small figure dressed in the team’s knickerbockers, a linen shirt, a jacket, and cap turned the corner and started running toward him down the platform, and Rhys breathed a sigh of relief.

He knew that run – he had watched her at it for months now, both on the field and during their practice sessions.

“Emma—ett,” he said when she finally reached him, her breath coming fast. She climbed up the stairs he had pointed out to her.

“Where were you?” he asked, keeping his distance, even though he would have liked nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, and press his lips against hers so she would know how pleased he was to see her.

She glanced back at him and lowered her voice. “I had to feign illness and then wait until my parents left. By that time, I had no way to get here besides running for a hack, and I couldn’t find one.”

“Did you run all the way here?” he asked, noticing the bead of sweat that began to slide out from beneath her cap.

She lifted her hand to wipe it, but then stopped before touching her cap, as she likely realized that to lift it could send all of that glorious dark hair sliding down over her shoulders.

“I did,” she said as they walked down the tight corridor toward their car and the train began to move. “Any water around here?”

He found a footman and asked before they made their way to join the rest of the team.

Emmaline looked around her at the upholstered seats, two together on each side of the aisle, facing another pair.

Rhys realized with a quick smile that she likely hadn’t ever travelled in this class before but was usually in the front with Lord Harcourt and Lily.

He had to appreciate that Lily, even though she likely had been offered a place to sit with her parents, was here in second class with the rest of the men as well as Felix’s wife.

“Williams! Didn’t think you’d made it,” Tommy said. “Good thing you’ve got that speed now. ”

“Good thing,” Emmaline said dryly as she sank into the seat across from him, Rhys taking the place next to her. Thankfully, it was one of the few seats remaining, so it shouldn’t arouse any suspicion.

The train ride wasn’t long, but it was rather torturous, sitting so close to Emmaline, yet maintaining a respectable distance between them.

He watched her interactions with their teammates.

She wasn’t standoffish, but she wasn’t the Emmaline he had come to know.

She was reserved, subdued, not wanting to give any of them reason to closely scrutinize her.

An hour in, when most of the men had begun to play cards or nap, as Tommy was across from them, Rhys leaned in toward her, passing her a small case.

“These are for you.”

“What are they?”

“Open it.”

“A gift?” she said with a small smile. “You shouldn’t have.”

She opened the drawstring of the cloth bag, pulling out the small wire frames from within.

“Spectacles,” he said as she cradled them in her hands. “With a strap and glass lenses. It should help prevent anyone from paying you close attention.”

“Like my brother,” she murmured.

“Exactly.” He nodded.

“Thank you, Rhys,” she said, her lips curling into that special smile he liked to think she only bestowed upon him and him alone. “That is very thoughtful of you.”

“Can’t have one of my best players taken out of the game,” he said gruffly, even though it was so much more than that, and from the look she gave him, it appeared that she understood.

Their travel was uneventful, and when they reached Berkshire, Rhys noted how close Emmaline stayed next to him. She likely had never travelled any significant distance without a chaperone, and her experience outside of Manchester, except for London, was perhaps limited.

Of course, he would look after her – even if he didn’t tell her so, for she would only become surly with him, telling him she was just fine on her own.

He was sure she was, but he would rather be there for her, knowing that he had a hand in keeping her safe, happy, and protected.

Later that afternoon, they stepped onto the playing fields just beyond Eton College, which loomed in the background, all warm-colored brick and pointed arches.

The stands were already full of spectators ready to watch the important matchup.

It was going to be a hostile environment, that was certain, as the moment their club was spotted, the boos began.

Rhys just grinned. He loved it. Even if the cheering was against his team, he was still happy to feed off the energy, using it to fuel him and the rest of the club.

They were led to a small fieldside shelter to change. Emmaline kept her back turned to the room, as usual, not changing herself, but keeping on her knickerbockers and slipping her club shirt over the white linen one.

Rhys wasn’t sure the rest of them even noticed, so concerned they were with preparing for the pending game.

“Ready?” was all he asked them. He didn’t need to say any more. Of course they were ready. They all wore the same determination that he felt on their faces, their shoulders set back, their knees bent.

“Ready!” they all responded, nearly in unison, as they filed out the door, one by one. Rhys hit his knuckles against each of theirs as they passed, holding them against Emmaline’s for a moment longer than the rest before she ran out to join them.

Fortunately, she and her brother played on opposite sides of the field. Having grown up playing with one another, they had naturally each taken to opposing positions, so at least they wouldn’t be as close as they could have been were they lined up across from one another.

Rhys lost the coin toss, so they were prepared to defend their goal.

He would have liked to set aside all thoughts of Emmaline, her brother, and what they were risking to simply focus on the game, but he couldn’t.

Not when he was captain. Not when he was the man charged with keeping Emmaline’s secret.

He had to balance all of those responsibilities while still winning the game.

The whistle blew, and the game began. Rhys’s eyes darted across the field, tracking the ball as it was kicked back and forth between the two teams. Manchester’s defense held strong initially, but Eton’s offensive line was relentless. They pressed forward, passing the ball with precision and speed.

Rhys shouted orders to his team, directing them to shore up their defenses and push back against Eton’s advances.

Emmaline sprinted down the sideline, her lean frame allowing her to weave between the opposing players with agility.

She intercepted a pass and booted the ball back towards Eton’s goal, eliciting cheers from their supporters in the stands.

But Eton wouldn’t be so easily deterred.

They regrouped and charged again, their crisp white uniforms and dark trousers a blur as they moved in formation.

Rhys gritted his teeth as he saw Freddie Whitmore leading the attack, the ball dancing between his feet as he maneuvered closer to Manchester’s goal.

“Mark him tight!” Rhys bellowed to his defenders. But despite their efforts, Freddie managed to break past them. He sent the ball sailing over Hardy’s outstretched hands and through the goalposts with a powerful kick.

It wasn’t difficult to see where Emmaline had developed her football skills, for Freddie played the game just like she did .

The Eton side of the stands erupted in cheers as Freddie was mobbed by his teammates. Frustration twisted in Rhys’s gut, but he couldn’t dwell on it. They still had a game to win.

He rallied his team, urging them to dig deep and find another gear. Slowly but surely, Manchester’s play improved. Their passes became sharper, their movements more coordinated. Rhys couldn’t help but be proud as he watched them work together seamlessly, a testament to all their practice.

In the game’s final minutes, with the score tied, Emmaline made a brilliant steal and broke away down the field.

Rhys watched with his heart in his throat as she dodged and wove, outmaneuvering the Eton defenders.

With a deft tap, she passed the ball to Tommy, who sent it rocketing into the goal just as the final whistle blew.

Manchester had won, but just barely. As the team celebrated on the field, hugging and clapping each other on the back, Rhys sought out Emmaline.

She was beaming with exhilaration, her cheeks flushed, a few tendrils of hair escaping from beneath her cap.

Their eyes met, and as much as he wanted to rush over to her and take her in his arms, he settled for sending her a slight nod of acknowledgment. They had done it.

Sensing eyes upon him, Rhys looked over his shoulder to find Freddie standing across the field from them, arms crossed over his chest, feet planted wide, his dark mustache the only feature Rhys could see from here.

His interest, however, was apparent, and Rhys understood.

If Rhys could recognize Emmaline’s play in Freddie’s stride, he imagined that Freddie might similarly note Emmaline’s play.

He hoped Freddie was only watching them celebrate in disappointment, but as Emmaline walked over to Lily, who hugged her, he saw Freddie’s eyes tracking her. He more than suspected. Rhys was sure of it .

He sent himself into motion before Freddie could, coming up behind Emmaline.

“Emmett,” he called out. “Offside.”

Her eyes swung around wildly until she noted her brother, who was now moving forward toward them, encouraging people to move out of his way so that he could cut across to Manchester’s side.

Emmaline turned her face away, and Rhys could only hope she had been quick enough that Freddie didn’t get a good look at her.

Rhys looked at the two women in front of him. “You need to get out of here. Now.”

Lily nodded, the two merging with the crowd of disappointed watchers filtering down from the stands. Rhys watched them, torn. He didn’t like the idea of them being alone among this vast number of people, but was it worse to stay and risk discovery?

“I’ve got them,” came a voice in his ear as Colin surged ahead of him to catch them, his arm curling around his wife as he looked back at Rhys, nodding at him before accompanying the two women away.

Rhys sighed. As much as he would have preferred to be with Emmaline, he appreciated that she was safe, protected. He could trust Colin Thornton. He had learned that lesson well last year.

He looked back to see Freddie looking around in confusion, seeking out Emmaline, but he was to be disappointed.

This has been far too close. They would have to be even more cautious from now on. Emmaline’s secret still hung in the balance, and Rhys would do whatever it took to protect it – and her.