Chapter Twenty-Two

"This was a terrible idea, miss."

Emma glanced at Jenny, who wasn't usually this outspoken when it came to things she didn't like. Though quick to agree with Emma, the maid generally kept her negative opinions to herself, especially when it came to Emma and her unusual notions of a woman's place.

Emma had to agree with Jenny this time.

Though it wasn't yet so late that the streets were empty, it had gotten dark. And it was certainly too late in the evening for Emma to be venturing out on her own, even with Jenny beside her. If Tabitha ever found out what she was doing...

"I need to apologize to him," Emma said, clasping her hands in front of her, as if that might make her look less terrified to anyone who passed. Truthfully, the longer she stood outside the building, the more suspicious she would look, and this wasn't such a poor part of Town that she had no chance of being recognized. Mr. Forester lived here, after all, so it had to be at least somewhat respectable.

Yet he was the reason Emma hadn't been brave enough to go inside and find his apartment. Mr. Forester, who had looked at her like she was the source of all his pain. Mr. Forester, who hadn't done anything worth Emma's complete ruination of his reputation. Mr. Forester, who did not, as Miss Fairfax had believed, rent a room at Albany. Emma had, thankfully, had the foresight to casually ask Alvaro where Mr. Forester lodged before setting out this evening. But now that she was here, looking up at the ill-maintained building with its cracking plaster, Emma was beginning to see the folly in her plan.

Yes, she wanted to apologize to the man. But she probably should have waited until the next time she saw him instead of sneaking out under the cover of darkness, and with only a maid to accompany her, no less. But after her afternoon with the young ladies of Society, Emma had been overcome with guilt, and she wouldn't have slept a minute tonight if she hadn't at least tried to make things right with the man. No inheritance was worth condemning a man to being an outcast when he already had so little.

Jenny cleared her throat, fidgeting as she glanced around them. "Should we go inside, miss?"

Emma sighed. "Yes. We came all this way, and I can swallow my pride for an evening." She didn't particularly like the way Jenny hid a smile as they stepped up to the dilapidated building.

As soon as they reached the door, however, Emma halted and stared at the wood. She had been so focused on getting herself here that she hadn't considered what she would actually say when she arrived. "I'm sorry" didn't seem to be enough for how thoroughly she had torn him down, and that was assuming he even listened to her. At this point, she would be lucky to receive a few seconds of his attention, and that would hardly be enough.

How did one tell a man she had been completely wrong about him but couldn't give him what he hoped for, no matter how much she wanted to? That inheritance was the only thing she had.

"I've made a mistake," she whispered, taking a step back from the door.

Jenny didn't hesitate with her response. "I will find us a carriage to return us to Harstone House."

As the maid hurried back to the busier street around the corner, Emma took her time in following, her mind stuck on the fact that she was always going to be an enemy to Nicholas Forester, no matter what she did. One of them would always be the winner, and her heart ached with the idea that her happiness would result in his misery and the other way around. What sort of cruel trick had Grandfather played by choosing one of them over the other?

"What have we here?"

Emma jumped, startled by a gruff voice in the growing darkness. It took her only a moment to know the man who approached her just outside the building would not be friendly. Why had she dawdled instead of keeping to Jenny's side? It wasn't as if the maid would be any sort of defense against a man twice her size, but there was strength in numbers.

Emma forced a brief smile. "Excuse me, sir." She attempted to step around him, but he blocked her path, forcing her back against the wall. "My companion is wait—"

"That little slip of a thing?" The man reeked of poor hygiene, his eyes dark pits against sallow skin, and Emma could hardly breathe. "We don't see many chits like you around these parts." His fingers bunched the fabric of her skirt as his eyes took her in from her feet to her neck. "All proper like. This dress would fetch a pretty price, wouldn' it?"

Heart pounding, Emma fought to get enough breath to scream, but then his hand slid up to her throat, cold fingers tucking around her jaw.

"Whoever you're comin' to see, I reckon he won't mind waitin' while I have a taste."

Before Emma could react, his mouth was on hers, tasting foul. She finally snapped out of her fear, shoving his chest and kicking and squirming, doing everything she could to get away from him. He was stronger, though, her protests pulling a growl of anger out of him, and he shoved her into the wall. Crying out with pain, Emma fought more frantically. She would not go down without a fight.

"Emma!"

Suddenly the man was ripped away from her, tugging her forward because one hand still gripped her dress, and she stumbled right as her rescuer threw a punch into the man's jaw. His grip loosened, but Emma still lost her balance and crashed to the ground in a heap.

That same voice shouted her name again, though her heart beat too furiously for her to place where she knew it from. Not until a gentle hand took her arm and helped her up to her feet.

"Are you hurt?" he asked frantically, his large hands wrapping around hers.

Emma lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. "Mr. Forester? No, I'm..." She struggled to take a deep breath. "Perfectly well."

He clearly didn't believe that, his eyebrows pulling low as he looked down at their clasped hands. "You're shaking."

Indeed she was. How else would he expect to find her when she had just been attacked by a true beast? "You saved me," she whispered, even her voice trembling. "I came to..." Why had she come? She couldn't think with Mr. Forester's eyes examining her with so much concern.

The man on the ground groaned, not yet unconscious, and Mr. Forester swore when he looked at him. "We need to get you away from here," he muttered, wrapping an arm around her waist without releasing one of her hands. "We can't let anyone see you in this state."

"What?" Only when they started walking did Emma realize her dress had been torn in her attacker's grip, several inches of her skirt pulled away from the bodice.

"You shouldn't be seen with me like this," she mumbled back, feeling rather numb all of a sudden as she realized what might have transpired if Mr. Forester hadn't come to her rescue. And to think she had come here to try to make things better for him. "You are under enough scrutiny as it is, and—"

"I hardly think anything could make my situation worse than it already is, Emma. You saw to that. Is that your maid?"

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a hackney coach waiting ahead, a worried Jenny beside it. "Yes. Nick, I didn't mean to—"

"Get inside," he nearly commanded, and she found herself listening to him without question, climbing inside the coach with weak legs. She likely wouldn't have managed it without his hand wrapped around hers, and even when she sat, she still gripped his fingers like she might fall apart without the contact.

Had he really rescued her? After everything?

"You hate me," she whispered, staring at him as he stood outside the carriage.

He helped Jenny climb inside despite awkwardly standing in the doorway with his hand trapped, and then he sent a smile to Emma that didn't help her racing heart. She didn't deserve that smile.

"Now, Miss Mackenzie, you mustn't believe everything you hear. There's a good deal of untruth out there."

With that, he pried his hand free and told the driver to take her to Harstone, shutting the door and throwing Emma into darkness. Only when she was safely in her bedchamber and in her nightgown did she realize she'd never even thanked him for saving her from something truly terrible.

Some apology that had been.