Free Viscount of Vice by Shana Galen

latched onto his words. “You’re right about Flynn. He’s strong. He can destroy Satin, and I can help you free yourself of the opium. Your life doesn’t have to be like it is. You can change it.”
    He stared at her, obviously dubious of her promises. She was dubious as well. Could she help him? She’d never helped anyone all on her own. As much as she tried to blend in at the charity hospital, to make herself like any other nurse, she was still Lady Emma. She suspected she had been shielded from certain unsavory aspects of the hospital. And after her abduction tonight, she had no doubt Katherine and Andrew would whisk her away and out of Society’s view for some time. It would be the only way to save her reputation, if indeed it could be saved after this.
    Emma rather doubted her reputation could survive. She’d been in a room alone with a criminal for several hours. Everyone would assume the worst.
    Suddenly, Flynn’s brother jumped to his feet and looked at the door. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered. Emma’s heart thumped in her chest. Was it this Satin he’d spoken of? What would he do when he saw her?
    A quiet tap sounded on the door, and she swallowed. She wished she could sink under the mattress and hide. Except she’d never been one to hide before. Instead, she rose to her feet and stood, legs braced, ready for the worst.
    â€œWho is it?” Flynn’s brother asked.
    â€œOpen the bloody door before I kick it down.”
    â€œFlynn!” Emma couldn’t stop herself from calling out. She glanced at her captor. “It’s your brother!”
    Robert Flynn faltered, and before he could move to open the door, Flynn did exactly as he’d promised and kicked it open. Robert jumped back, but Emma ran forward. “Flynn!”
    He stood in the doorway, pistol trained on her captor. He gave her only a quick glance, but she could have sworn she saw relief in that look. And then she crashed into his arms. Without lowering the pistol, he caught her and pulled her hard against him. She was safe.
    She wanted to bury her head in his shoulder, close her eyes, and forget the last few hours. Flynn was here. He would take care of her.
    â€œLady Emma, are you hurt? Did this knave touch you?”
    â€œI’m fine. He did not hurt me at all.” She raised her head and looked from one brother to the other. “Flynn, may I introduce your brother, Robert. Robert, the Viscount of Chesham.”
    * * *
    Flynn stared at the man Emma said was his brother. Of course, he knew his brother had her. Derring had said as much, but Flynn still felt a cold numbness wash over him as he stared at the man in the flesh. In his mind, Robert had never aged past the age of four. In his mind, Robert was short and cherub-cheeked, stuck in the place between toddler and boy.
    This man had several days’ growth of beard, and his hair was long and unwashed. He was a little shorter than Flynn himself and quite a bit thinner. Almost gaunt. His nose looked as though it had been broken a time or two, and he sported an old bruise on his temple. His hands, one clenched around a crude dagger and the other a bottle of some sort, were scraped and scabbed and grimy with dirt.
    Reflexively, Flynn pulled Emma closer. He wanted her away from this place and safe. Then he would deal with his brother—if the man was indeed his brother. But even as he thought it, he knew he was fooling himself. The young man who stood before him might have been himself in other circumstances. He saw the same arch of the brow on that face that he saw every morning in the mirror. And he saw something else as well—traces of his late father.
    And for that alone, Flynn wouldn’t have minded striking the man who stood opposite him.
    â€œYou are Lord Chesham?” the man asked. Flynn swallowed. He sounded like their late father. Strange to hear that voice from the grave, though Flynn