Page 69 of Love with a Notorious Rake

His gaze slid to Miller, who walked the narrow aisles between the machines. The man was diligent in his work, kept the machines humming and in top working order regardless of McRae’s neglect. Aidan would have to ensure the man was looked after once he made his report. Recommend him for a better position elsewhere should Morris Mill be shuttered—if that happened. Aidan found he had less and less confidence in fairness and proper government oversight.

A blood-curdling scream made Aidan freeze in his tracks.

“Stop the machines!” Miller yelled. “Don’t move, girl!” The spinning room fell silent, except for a child shrieking at the top of her lungs. The woman who had been operating the machine covered her mouth and turned away in horror.

Aidan vaulted down the stairs and ran toward Miller. “What is it?”

“One of the scavengers, sir. Her hair got caught in the machinery. Good bloody thing I was right here when it happened, or her head would have been crushed.”

Aidan lowered himself onto his haunches. His stomach tumbled with nausea when he saw it was little Lottie. Part of her scalp had torn away on the left side of her head. God, the amount of blood. It ran in rivulets down her shoulder. It was a wonder she was still conscious. “Hush, child. I will free you.” He turned toward Miller. “I need scissors. Now.” He could cut away the long hair trapped in the mechanism, for if they moved any part of the machine, it could tear her scalp off completely.

Rokesmith scrambled under the machine to get to the small girl, who was whimpering now, obviously losing consciousness. “Lottie!” he cried, frantically pulling at her tattered dress.

“Carter, we need a wagon. Go outside and fetch one. Can you drive it?”

He nodded, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks.

“We will head to Dr. Middlemiss. You know where it is?”

“Church Street?” he rasped.

“Yes. Go. Quickly now.”

Rokesmith tore out from under the machine and ran for the exit. Miller returned and passed him the scissors. “Lottie, don’t move. I’m going to cut you free.”

She slumped, and Miller quickly held her upright and in place while Aidan sliced through the long curling locks. At last, she was free. Aidan stood and shrugged out of his coat, wrapping it about her head. He had nearly slipped in the blood pooling on the floor. He remembered hearing of Garrett’s gunshot wound, how Abbie had kept constant pressure on it to stem the flow of blood. Her quick-thinking action had kept him alive until he could be treated.

“Take over, Miller!”

Aidan didn’t wait for a reply, but sprinted outside. Lottie wasn’t moving. She lay in his arms like a doll made of rags. He found Rokesmith arguing with one of the workers.

“Get out of the way; we are commandeering this wagon.” The man opened his mouth to argue, but Aidan gave him a deadly look. “Stand aside, or I’ll beat you fucking senseless.”

The man backed up several steps, and he and Rokesmith scrambled onto the bench. Grabbing the reins, Rokesmith snapped them and yelled, “Hah!” The dray horses vaulted forward until they were out of the courtyard. “Is she…still alive?”

Aidan twisted his coat like a tourniquet over her head and face, leaving only her nose and mouth visible. His fingers felt for a pulse in her neck. Faint, but still there. “Barely. Faster, lad.”

Blood had already seeped through the fabric of his coat. Head wounds bled more profusely than most other injuries. How in hell had he known that? Could Middlemiss even do anything for the young girl? What kind of training did he have?

Rokesmith was openly sobbing, and with his free hand, he patted the boy’s arm. “Stay strong, lad. For Lottie. We will do all we can to save her.”

Rokesmith quieted, sniffling as they headed into the village proper. “Out of the way!” Aidan yelled as they rumbled through the narrow streets. Once they arrived at the clinic, Aidan barely waited for the wagon to come to a stop before he was scrambling down with Lottie in his arms. He burst through the door. “Doctor!”

Both Middlemiss and Cristyn emerged from behind a curtain.

“Accident at the mill. Her hair caught in the mechanism of the spinning machine. Part of her scalp…God.” His insides tumbled. How else could he explain it?

“Bring her through here.” Middlemiss pointed. Cristyn followed. Aidan gently laid the young girl on the table. “You should wait outside.” Rokesmith ran behind the curtain, making the small area more cramped than it already was. “Take the lad with you. Allow us to examine her.”

Aidan seized the boy’s shoulders and he struggled, not wishing to leave the girl’s side. “Come with me,” Aidan murmured. “The doctor and nurse will care for her.”

“Wait in my office in the rear, Mr. Black,” the doctor said as he unraveled the coat about Lottie’s head.

Rokesmith’s shoulders slumped, and he dejectedly followed Aidan into the small office. The lad was obviously devastated, and Aidan was at a loss as to how to comfort him. It was not something he bothered with, considering how egoistic he was. Or rather—had been. “Carter.”

The lad sniffled and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. “She was too young,” he muttered, so low Aidan could hardly make out the words.

“Pardon?”