“No.” He glanced at Mooktu. “We have to get away from here-off the docks-quickly.”

Mooktu nodded. “I’ll get the others.”

He was gone on the word, leaving Gareth to set Miss Ensworth back on her feet.

Gently, as if she were porcelain and might shatter at any instant.

“Are you all right?”

As the warmth-the heat-of his hard hands fell from her, Emily managed to blink. “Y-yes.” This must be what shock felt like.

Indeed, she was amazed she hadn’t swooned. He’d seized her, dragged her from danger, then held her close, effectively plastered to the side of his body. His brick-wall-hard, excessively warm-not to say hot-body.

She didn’t think she’d ever be the same.

“Ah…” Where was a fan when one needed one? She glanced around, and noise suddenly assaulted her ears. Everyone was talking, in several different languages.

Hamilton hadn’t moved. He stood like a rock amid the sea of surging humanity. She wasn’t too proud to shelter in his lee.

She finally located Mullins-her grizzly ex-soldier guard-as he came stumping back through the crowd. Just before the attack, a wave of bodies had pushed him ahead and separated them-then her attacker had stepped between her and Watson, her courier-guide, who’d been following on her heels.

Her people were armed, but having lost her assailant in the melee, they gradually returned. Mullins recognized Hamilton as a solider even though he wasn’t in uniform, and raised a hand in an abbreviated salute. “Thanking you, sir-don’t know what we’d’ve done without you.”

Emily noted the way Hamilton’s lips tightened. She was grateful he didn’t state the obvious-if not for his intervention, she’d be dead.

The rest of her party gathered. Without prompting, she quickly put names and roles to their worried faces-Mullins, Watson, Jimmy, Watson’s young nephew, and Dorcas, her very English maid.

Hamilton acknowledged the information with a nod, then looked from her to Watson. “Where were you planning to stay?”