Page 58 of The Unfortunate Debutante
Emma looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I have never been slapped before.”
A surge of protection coursed through his body, and he found raw anger building up inside of him at the sight of her tears. He knew he could take out the five constables milling around the wagon, who were arresting people at their discretion. However, his main concern needed to be Emma’s safety.
Simeon had no doubt that Pembrooke had witnessed the attack and knew he would contact Justice Ford, the magistrate of Bow Street, to sort this mess out.
As he assisted Emma and Janet into the carriage, he heard a shot fired in the direction of the stage. He turned his head and saw people running in the opposite direction, attempting to flee the violence. Men and women were laying on the ground, bloodied and bruised as the constables continued to attack the unarmed people. This was a travesty, and he couldn’t wait to speak to Justice Keats about his supposed warrant and questionable tactics.
Emma and Janet were huddled up in the corner, and Simeon sat down next to Emma. He placed his arm on her shoulder, and she leaned into him.
“Do you think I am truly going to prison?” she murmured.
Surprising even himself, he kissed the top of her head. “Not on my life.”
The wagon was filled with mostly women, and a few bruised and bloodied men. Everyone was silent as they rode the short distance towards Westminster Bridewell, one of the worst prisons in London.
The wagon jerked to a stop in front of a decaying stone structure with iron bars over the windows. The glass in many of the windows was broken out. Simeon jumped out of the wagon and came around to start assisting everyone out of the wagon. When it was Emma’s turn, he heard horses’ hooves pounding on the cobblestone, getting increasingly louder.
He turned his head and saw the black-crested coach of the Marquess of Downshire barreling towards the prison. Before it came to a complete stop, the door opened and a stone-faced Lord Downshire stepped out. His eyes sought out Emma, and he visibly relaxed when he saw her.
Without hesitation, Lord Downshire headed straight towards Emma and pulled her into a tight embrace. He murmured something into her hair before he released her and stepped back. Immediately, his eyes narrowed, and his hand came up to touch her reddened cheek.
His eyes snapped up, and he addressed Constable Stone, who was standing guard near the wagon. “Who in blazes struck my ward?”
Constable Stone visibly froze with trepidation before saying, “I did. She was resisting arrest…”
Downshire spoke over him. “You had the audacity to arrest my charge. For what?”
“For… uh… striking an officer of the law.”
Taking a commanding step closer, Downshire proclaimed, “I could see why. I, too, would like to strike you for your complete and utter incompetence.”
A pudgy, short man with a receding hairline walked out of the prison’s main door and approached Downshire cautiously. “May I ask what the problem is, milord?”
“This imbecile,” Downshire pointed at Constable Stone, “falsely arrested and assaulted my ward, Miss Emma Pearson, and I demand her release at once,” he declared forcefully. “If not, I vow that I will get the Prince Regent himself to demand her release.”
“I assure you that will not be necessary,” the man rushed to say. “I am Mr. Beacon, the director of Westminster Bridewell. I would like to formally apologize for Constable Stone’s mistake.” The man bowed. “Your ward is free to go with my apologies.”
“Not good enough,” Downshire proclaimed, again pointing towards Constable Stone. “This man had the nerve to lay his hand on my ward.”
Mr. Beacon turned towards Constable Stone. “I will recommend to Justice Keats that you should be fired immediately.”
Downshire walked over to the group of people near the wagon. “May I suggest that all these people be released, as well, because of this man’s incompetence.”
“Excellent idea, milord,” Mr. Beacon remarked. He turned his attention towards the group. “You are all free to go, with my apologies.”
Downshire turned his heated gaze towards Simeon. “Wentworth,” he growled, “get in the coach.”
Simeon escorted Emma to the coach. Once she was situated, he sat across from her. He noticed she was wringing her hands in front of her.
“It’ll be all right,” he assured her.
Her brows dipped inward. “I’ve never seen Luke so angry.”
The coach door was wrenched opened, and Downshire came to sit down next to him with a clenched jaw.
Emma spoke up, hesitantly. “I am so…”
“Not now, Emma,” Downshire said, interrupting her. “I am so incredibly disappointed in you.”
