Page 34 of The Hellion and the Captain (Scandals and Scores #2)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

R hys tried to focus on the rest of the game, but it was difficult when all he could do was watch Emmaline.

He admired her courage, which was greater than any he had ever seen before, even if he didn’t agree with her decision to keep playing.

Although he would have done the same thing himself.

Harrington ran over to him before the play began, and Rhys braced himself, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for him.

“Lockwood,” Harrington said, some chagrin crossing his face. “Apologies about Reeves. Even if the umpire hadn’t tossed him out of the game, I would not have allowed him to continue. Had I known?—”

“But that’s just it,” Rhys interjected. “You did know, and you let him play anyway. I knew what the man was capable of the first time I met him. It’s why he’s not playing for Manchester Central — I didn’t want a player like that on my team.”

“I knew he’d be aggressive, but I didn’t know he’d go to such extremes,” Harrington defended himself, but Rhys was already shaking his head.

“You made that choice. And now you have to play with a man short.”

“Your injured player is continuing?” Harrington said incredulously. “I heard… his shoulder was out.”

“It was, but it’s reset,” Rhys said with a shrug. “He can still kick the ball.”

He had a feeling that Harrington knew they were not talking about a man anymore, but he pressed on with the charade.

“You have the penalty you deserve. We have another ten minutes to play. All we can do now is take the field and let the best team win.”

Harrington nodded slowly. “You’re right,” he said, before lowering his voice. “None of the other men on my club know about Reeves’ accusations. I’ll try to keep it that way.”

“Why?”

Harrington eyed him. “Because I’d like to think you would do the same for me if I ever needed it. That, and I’m not in the business of ruining lives. Besides… I don’t need anyone knowing who Williams truly is when the player has scored more than one goal against us.”

So, there was the truth.

“As for Reeves… I’ve told him that if word gets out, I will ensure he never plays football for any club again. That seemed to scare him straight.”

“I appreciate that,” Rhys said, and they shook hands once more before they each returned to their respective teams, taking the field across from one another.

He risked a glance up to the stands, finding the entire Whitmore family standing and staring at them with expressions ranging from chagrin to horror on their faces.

They’d deal with that later .

They would deal with all of it later.

After they won this football match.

“We’ve got this,” he yelled to his teammates, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go!”

They needed no further encouragement as they lined up in front of him while Rhys took the ball on the sideline and kicked it into play.

Colin took the ball as Emmaline ran up the field next to him — perhaps a bit slower than usual, but despite the pain she must be feeling, her jaw was set in determination.

Rhys watched her in awe, marveling at her resilience and skill.

While he would have preferred that she was recovering at home or in the bathhouse, he couldn’t help his swell of pride seeing her out there, giving her all for the team.

The other Manchester Central players rallied around her, their passes crisp and purposeful as they worked to create scoring opportunities.

He could hardly believe that none of them had argued about playing with a woman — that they had, in fact, been more accepting than he had been when he had first discovered Emmaline’s identity.

They had been playing with her for some time now, yet they didn’t seem to begrudge the fact that she had lied to them about who she was this entire season.

The Athletics fought them hard, desperate to win.

They pressed forward relentlessly, testing Manchester Central’s defense.

But Rhys’s men held strong, determined not to concede.

Hardy made a spectacular diving save against Harrington, his fingertips just grazing the ball to deflect it wide as the breath left Rhys’s lungs in a whoosh.

Time ticked down, the tension mounting with each passing second. Rhys glanced at his pocket watch – only about a minute remained. They needed a goal, and they needed it now.

Colin won the ball in midfield and surged forward, dancing past two defenders. He looked up, spotting Emmaline making a run toward the goal. With a perfectly weighted pass, he found her in stride.

Emmaline collected the ball and then feinted left, sending the last defender sprawling, before cutting back onto her right foot.

The keeper rushed out to close the angle, but Emmaline was too quick.

With a deft flick of her boot, she lifted the ball over his outstretched arms and into the far corner of the net.

As the ball rolled down the field, the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. Rhys leapt into the air, pumping his fist in jubilation. Emmaline wheeled away in celebration, her teammates mobbing her in elation, although they were careful of her shoulder.

In the stands, even Emmaline’s brothers couldn’t help but cheer, caught up in the moment’s emotion. They should be happy — their sister had just scored what would likely be the championship-winning goal.

The final whistle blew moments later, confirming Manchester Central’s triumph.

Rhys raced across the pitch, embracing Emmaline, mindful of her injury as he kept enough distance between them to prevent the embrace from turning romantic.

Tears of joy — and maybe pain — streamed down her face as she cradled one arm against her chest and pounded his back fiercely with the other.

“You did it,” Rhys whispered in her ear, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud of you, Emmaline.”

“ We did it,” she corrected him, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Together. As a team. As a family.”

Around them, their teammates celebrated wildly as the Athletics began to trickle off the field toward their own bathhouse.

Rhys left Emmaline’s side for just a moment to shake Harrington’s hand. The opposing captain glanced over Rhys’s shoulder just once, likely at Emmaline, but said nothing before following the rest of his teammates off the field.

Soon enough, the opposing team was replaced by men Rhys recognized as the club committee members to whom he made his monthly reports, led by Lord Harcourt.

“Lord Cartwright is bringing out our Cup,” he said, clapping Rhys on the back. “Good work, Lockwood.”

“Thank you, Lord Harcourt,” Rhys said, needing to do his thank you now, in case Emmaline’s identity came out into the open — for then Lord Harcourt likely wouldn’t be quite as thankful, especially if he knew that Rhys had played a role in the secret.

Rhys clapped his hands together. “Line up, Central!” he called out, and his team was soon lined up in a haphazard manner, Emmaline beside him.

Surprisingly, the club committee stood behind them, allowing the team to have this moment first.

Lord Cartwright stood behind the Cup. He was a tall man with a bushy, white mustache. He had been president of the Football Association for a few years now, and as far as Rhys knew, was a fair man and a good fit for the role.

“Rhys Lockwood, as captain of Manchester Central,” Lord Cartwright called out, “I present to you the Football Association trophy for 1875!”

Rhys walked over to him, taking the Cup from the man’s shaking, outstretched arms and lifting it over his head as his team and the followers erupted into cheers before starting a chant.

He passed the trophy down the field to his teammates, stopping to help Emmaline, who couldn’t hold it with her one good arm.

He smiled as he shook his head incredulously at her, standing there with one hand in a sling, holding the arm close to her body.

Rhys was torn between celebrating this moment and getting her away from here to rest and see to her injury once more.

Eventually, everyone had a turn seeing the cup, and friends and family of the players began to trickle onto the field.

Rhys’s mouth dropped as he suddenly saw who was walking toward him.

“Mother? Father?” he said, hustling toward them, noting Emmaline remained with him. “What are you doing here?”

“We came to watch you play!” his mother said, beaming. “Rhys, you are wonderful. Your entire team is.”

“Thank you,” he said, blinking incredulously. “I can’t believe you came.”

“We’re proud of you, son,” his father said, placing a hand on his shoulder, and Rhys nodded, nearly feeling like tears would start running down his face — nearly.

“I need to go see my team for a moment, but you are staying for a time, I hope?”

“We would stay overnight, if you would have us,” his mother said shyly.

“Of course. As long as you would like,” he said, still in some shock. He had visited them when he had holidays, but they had never left London to see him. “If you go to a tavern down the street, The King’s Head, I will meet you there shortly. It’s where the team gathers after games.”

“We would be happy to.”

“And don’t pay for anything,” he said as he walked away. “It’s on me.”

He didn’t wait for their response as he turned around, seeking out Emmaline. When he didn’t spot her immediately, his heart caught, until he saw her figure moving quickly off the field, her brothers approaching from the other side with thunderous expressions.

Rhys hurried after her, catching up to her on the side of the field just as her brothers did.

“What on earth were you thinking?” Freddie demanded. “Playing football, dressed as a man? Have you no shame?”

Rhys looked around, grateful that no one else was near enough to hear their conversation.

“I was thinking that I love this sport and I’m damn good at it,” Emmaline shot back, chin held high. “Why should that be shameful?”

“Because you’re a woman!” her other brother, Richard, exclaimed. “It’s not proper, it’s not natural?—”

“Says who?” Rhys interjected, moving to stand beside Emmaline. “Your sister is one of the most talented players I’ve ever seen. Man or woman, it makes no difference. She belongs on that pitch.”

Freddie narrowed his eyes at Rhys. “You knew about this deception, didn’t you? You allowed it.”

“I did,” Rhys confirmed without hesitation. “And I’d do it again. Emmaline proved herself worthy ten times over. I’m proud to have her on my team.”

“Well, she won’t be on it anymore,” Richard declared. “This foolishness ends now. Emmaline, you’re coming home with us at once.”

“No, I’m not,” Emmaline said firmly. “I’m done letting others dictate my life. From now on, I will make my own choices. I choose football. I choose this team.” Her gaze slid meaningfully to Rhys. “I choose my own path.”

Her brothers gaped at her, momentarily speechless. Rhys took the opportunity to take Emmaline’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

“You heard the lady,” he said. “Now, we have a championship to celebrate. We’ll be at The King’s Head, and you are welcome to join us, as long as you are there to celebrate the club, and your sister.”

Freddie’s face reddened with anger and embarrassment.

“This isn’t over. Father has heard about your scandalous behavior, Emmaline, and he sent us to speak to you, but I can only imagine how he will respond when you return home.

You’ve been offered too much freedom.” With that, he and Richard walked off the field.

Emmaline sagged slightly as they departed, all the effects of the day catching up to her. Rhys squeezed her hand.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently.

She nodded, mustering a small smile. “I will be. I just cannot believe they are the same men who taught me football. The sport seems to be allowed for a child, but not for a woman. It’s infuriating, but what am I supposed to do besides take it as a lesson that perhaps I need to accept there is no place for women in football, at least not yet?

Thank you for standing by me. I know this cannot be easy for you either. ”

“Easy? No. But worth it? Absolutely.” He brushed a flyaway strand of hair away from her cheek.

“I meant what I said, Emmaline. I’m proud of you.

And I’ll support you, no matter what comes.

No one said that women playing football would be easy.

But it will never happen without someone leading the way forward, and I think we both know who that someone needs to be. ”

He led her around the corner of the bathhouse, where they would be out of sight from anyone, except, perhaps, their teammates.

Rhys cupped her face tenderly.

“You were amazing out there. You scared me half to death one too many times, but I admire what you did. And I love you,” he murmured, before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. He lifted his head to say. “I’m proud of you. I’m proud of us. And I cannot wait to see what comes after this.”

“Neither can I,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she tilted her face up to him in a silent plea for more. “Neither can I.”