Lady Arabelle crossed her arms and huffed. “We are family. The obstinance that runs through your veins is the same that flows through mine. And to answer your question, while Mr. Neale is devilishly handsome, no. My heart belongs to another man.”
Her anger evaporated at Lady Arabelle’s answer. “Who?” Emma demanded as she placed the dress and lace upon the table.
“You’ll think me a ninny if I tell you his name. But his reputation is without merit.” Lady Arabelle was born with a wise old soul. It wasn’t surprising she fell in love with an older man. While Emma would never publicly admit it, Lady Arabelle was kin, and Emma wouldn’t let any man hurt her family.
Emma said, “Tell me more about this fella of yers.”
Arabelle flopped onto the settee and draped her arm over her face. “He claims he’s too debauched for me—that he isn’t worthy of my love.” With an exaggerated sigh, she continued, “He claims he is past his prime and has resolved to spend the rest of his days as a bachelor.”
If Lady Arabelle’s behavior was the result of falling in love, then Emma wanted nothing to do with the condition.
“He’s right. Yer too good for him. Why don’t ye attempt to seduce another man? A man more worthy of ye.”
Bolting to sit up straight, Arabelle said, “There is no other for me.”
Lor. Unrequited love apparently caused a woman to lose her wits. “Don’t be silly. Doesn’t Sebastian know of some respectable young lord you could marry?”
“Oh, my brother has a long list of eligible men, but Lord Mar…” Lady Arabelle shook her head and sighed. She rolled back to rest her head upon the arm of the settee and said, “The lord with whom I’m in love with is not on the list.”
Blast. If Lady Arabelle had revealed her beau’s name, Emma could have had the Network investigate the man. If he proved worthy, she would have devised a scheme to assist the woman in despair lying in the midst of her shop. Her niece. Damnation, it was dangerous to begin thinking of the woman as anything but Lady Arabelle.
Emma looked down at the row of lace she had pinned without thought as they had chatted. She’d designed the gown with Christopher in mind. She shouldn’t bring up Christopher, but curiosity won out. “Is Mr. Neale on yer brother’s list?” Emma’s gut flipped as the word escaped her mouth.
Arabelle raised her head and answered, “Aye.” Flinging her arm over her eyes once more, Arabelle continued, “Christopher and I could have lived a life together amicably.”
Emma’s heart cinched at Arabelle’s use of Christopher’s given name. It shouldn’t bother her. He had courted Arabelle for a spell, after all.
Arabelle sighed. “But have you ever been in a man’s presence, and the rest of the world fades away?”
“Aye.” Every time Christopher was near. Emma was struck with sadness, realizing she wasn’t the only one who fell under Christopher’s spell.
“Well, the world still exists when I stand next to Christopher. He is not the one for me.” She lifted her arm slightly and peered at Emma. “Wait. How do you know about Christopher and me? We were extremely careful.”
“He told me.”
Arabelle rolled to her feet and confronted Emma. “Christopher told you. When?”
“Recently.” Avoiding Arabelle’s searching gaze, Emma busied herself holding various buttons up to the gown.
Wandering about the room, Arabelle said, “Then you already knew I’ve no interest in Mr. Neale.” Arabelle had reverted to referring to him with propriety. What was the chit up to? The mischievous gleam was back in her eyes.
“I thought he perhaps misunderstood your feelings.”
“Ha!” Emma jumped at Arabelle’s voice right behind her. “The Mr. Neale I’m acquainted with is extremely insightful and an excellent judge of character. Also, he was never one to talk in riddles, always straight to the point and honest.” She tapped Emma on the shoulder. Emma spun around to stare into Arabelle’s serious features. “I do care enough for Mr. Neale to be one hundred percent honest with him. He is a wonderful man, and I consider him a dear friend.”
A wave of irrational anger on Christopher’s behalf at Arabelle’s rejection rolled through Emma.
The bell over the door tinkled, and Emma’s dad appeared.
Tipping his hat, he nodded. “Lady Arabelle.” He glanced about the shop before shutting the door behind him.
Grabbing her reticule from the settee, Arabelle headed for the door. “Mr. Lennox, it is a pleasure to see you, but your appearance means the hour grows late, and it’s time for me to return home.” Arabelle straightened from her perfect little curtsy.
Emma called out, “I’ll expect ye next week for a fittin’.”
“Splendid. I’m looking forward to seeing your newest creation.” Arabelle winked and turned to leave.
Mr. Lennox opened the door and said, “Let me escort you to your carriage—it’s already dark outside.”
Emma stood by the front door as her dad gallantly walked Arabelle to the waiting vehicle. Once her niece was safely tucked inside, her dad marched back and said, “Ye shouldn’t be allowin’ her to stay so late.”
“She’s hard to get rid of.”
“I heard ye are expectin’ another visitor this eve.”
The Network’s gossip mill was hard to evade. “Yes, I’m expectin’ Mr. Neale to arrive later.”
“But ye’ve decided not to attend Bronwyn’s bloody ball. For wot good reason is he payin’ ye a visit?”
“He’s offered to help….”
“Help ye with wot? Pinning gowns?” her dad teased and then his lips thinned into a straight line. “I don’t trust him. I want to know his intentions.” He took a step closer and stared down at her. “Ye’re me daughter, and I’ll not have anyone take advantage of yer kind heart.”
“What if it is I who takes advantage of him?”
“Yer mum didn’t want me to share me thoughts on the matter, but men are highly motivated to say and do anythin’ to win a pretty girl’s affection. Yer mum believes Mr. Neale is an honorable one, jus’ like his brother. And if he’s taken an interest in ye, well, ye best be thinkin’ wot to say if he asks ye to marry him.”
“Marry Mr. Neale? I’ve only jus’ met him.”
“Lord Hadfield’s dictate for his brother to marry by season’s end is well known. We all know of Lady Arabelle’s rejection of Mr. Neale’s pursuit and his sudden interest in ye. Yer mum asks ye to consider the matter carefully.”
“He’s not interested in marriage to me.”
“How do ye know?”
“If Mr. Neale did propose, it would be out of convenience. Rejected by a lady, he is in desperate need of a woman to marry. I’ll not marry a man who's not in love with me, as you are in love with me mum.”
“Girl, come here.” He sat and waited for her to sit next to him. “Do ye know how long it took me to ask yer mum for her hand?”
“I’m guessin’ not long. The two of ye are always fawnin’ over each other.”
“Wrong. I’ve loved yer mum pretty much from the day we met, but it took me three long years for me ask her to marry me. And then there was the matter of the Council. Do ye know why it took me three years?”
“Nay.”
“I didn’t believe I was good enough to be the husband to a Network Council member. Yer grandma hit me over the head and told me wot I want ye to hear—live life and love without fear.”
“But Mr. Neale will become an official PORF upon marryin’, and his wife too will become a PORF. I’m not…”
“Girl, ye’d make a fine PORF. Ye have good instincts, and ye’re born to do great things. Look at wot ye have already made of yerself.” He gave her a hug, kissed the top of her head. “I’m proud of ye, and yer mum and me, we support ye whatever ye decide.” With one last squeeze, her dad turned and left.
Mute, Emma followed behind her dad and slowly turned the locks one by one. His footsteps faded, but she remained rooted next to the door. A few days ago, she had pondered o
ver her future—secretly wishing for more. Then she met Christopher, and her life suddenly became more complicated yet exhilarating. Aside from enjoying and longing for more of the man’s heart-stopping kisses, Emma was drawn to the complex gentleman who was nothing like the man the Network reports had portrayed. Flattered that Christopher wanted to spend more time together, she hadn’t pressed him to share his reasons. She herself couldn’t precisely explain why she felt compelled to seek out his company and felt adrift when they were apart. Nevertheless, she would have to find out Christopher’s true intentions tonight before matters became more convoluted.
Chapter Eleven
Nodding to the two young burly men assigned to watch over Emma’s shop, Christopher noted their unusual frosty nature towards him. He hadn’t managed to ascertain their names, but he knew they were among a rotation of six men who always saw to Emma’s safety. Whispers amongst the Network staff he employed clearly indicated Emma was a highly respected member—the eldest child to a Network elder. The Network apparently cared little about her paternal bloodline, only that she was as fierce a leader as his sister-in-law, Bronwyn. It was no wonder the pair were fast friends. In fact, the blue blood that ran through Emma’s veins was considered her single flaw. Her destiny to hold a seat upon the Network Elders’ Council explained the extra protection Emma received, for which he was grateful. The dangers of Emma living all alone gave him heart palpitations, and after her morning visit, he couldn’t banish the idea of having her safe and living under his roof.
Christopher approached the front door, and just before he rapped on the glass, he turned back and scanned the area. The guards were closer than usual. Best to set them at ease. He walked back to face the cold stares of the young men. “I’m not a threat to her.”
The older looking of the two stuck out his chin and said, “What business do ye have callin’ this late at night?”
Apparently, it was possible to keep some secrets safe from the Network. He’d claimed he simply wished to spend more time with the woman, but it was a lie. He wanted to see her seated at his table, every meal, morn, noon, and eve. He craved her kisses. He needed Emma. But he was no fool. The woman didn’t trust easy, and even though she’d eagerly participated in their embraces, he would have to prove his worth to her before she would even consider the idea of having him.
The younger man chimed in, “Ye’re not marked. Our loyalty belongs to Emma, so ye best have a good reason to be visitin’.”
“Are you questioning my intentions?”
“Aye.” The pair replied in unison.
“Emma is perfectly safe with me.” He was a gentleman, for goodness sake. What was in his blasted Network file to give Emma’s guards pause? He had been a damned saint for the past two years, with little time for anything but work.
Ignoring the wary looks on the guards' faces, Christopher swiveled to march back up to the shop’s front door. Guilt at not having been the model gentleman during their previous encounters resulted in his fist striking against the glass harder than he intended.
“Stop yer bloody poundin’ or ye’ll break me bleedin’ door.” Emma peeked from behind the curtain. Her eyes widened and lit with excitement. With each click of a latch being released, a muscle in his body relaxed.
The door swung open, and Emma invited him in. Christopher stood next to her admiring her swift moves securing the door once more. Yes, this woman was the woman he wanted. A chuckle escaped him as he recalled Bronwyn’s request to assist Emma with her speech. He was loath to disappoint his sister-in-law, but he’d not be attempting to change the woman standing beside him—she was magnificent in her own right.
She beamed a smile up at him. “Wot’s so amusing?”
“Nothing. I’m simply happy to be here.”
“I’m glad ye are here too.” Emma reached for his hand. “I’ve got lots of plans for ye.” She led him over to the settee on the shop floor.
Removing his hat, gloves, and coat, he asked, “Oh, really? Would you care to share what you have in store for me?”
The minx pursed her lips, scattering every gentlemanly thought he possessed. She removed the items from his hands and placed them in a neat pile upon the piece of furniture. His mind was busy imagining them lying upon it—naked.
“Ye did agree to do wotever I wanted.” She rested her hands flat against his chest.
Had she felt his heart jump through his waistcoat? The mischievous slant of her lips and the twinkle of desire in her eyes had him lowering his head to her ear. “Was there something specific you wanted from me now?”
Emma boldly slid her arms about his neck and brought his mouth to hers. Giving in to temptation, his tongue slid over her lower lip, prompting her to open for him. But Emma took charge, and it was he who was lost.
Only when she broke the kiss for air did he regain his mental facilities. Plump pink lips beckoned for his attention, but her guards’ questions had him pulling back. Instead, he said, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“Have ye?”
“Aye, but I’ve been warned to behave myself.”
“By whom?”
“Well, earlier, my dear older brother came by and paid me a visit. Quizzed me as to the purpose of our meetings now that you had no intention of attending Bronwyn’s ball. My rather vague answers appeased neither him nor the ears beyond the walls and doors of my office.”
Emma placed what would otherwise be a chaste kiss upon his cheek, but at that moment, it sent a bolt of pure desire down to his loins. “It’s yer own fault. If ye weren’t a known rake, then all would be well.”
He pulled back but didn’t fully release her. “Rake? I’ve been chaste as a monk for the past two years!” Who was filling her pretty head with such notions? He swallowed a groan. His behavior had been far from innocent.
“Really? Hmm…” She cocked her head to one side. A patch of creamy skin on her neck beckoned him.
He didn’t hesitate. He circled the soft, delicate skin with his tongue and then pressed his lips to the spot. “Aye, no one tempts me like you do.”
A soft moan from the back of her throat had him suckling the tender skin. If he didn’t stop, he would leave a mark. Straightening, he gazed down at Emma. She lowered her arms and reached behind her back for his hand once more. Reluctantly, he released his hold about her waist and threaded his fingers with hers. Her eyes darted to the stairs that led up to her private lodging. It was an invitation that he was sorely tempted to accept. But he wanted more than just her body. Lowering them both to the settee, Christopher said, “Tell me, what plans did you have for us this eve?”
“Me plans?” Emma shook her head. A flare of desire flashed in her eyes but was quickly blanketed as she shifted away. He didn’t like the additional inch of space she had placed between them, but it was probably for the best. It would ensure he avoided the temptation to divest her of her dress and make his earlier imaginings become a reality. While waiting for her to speak, he attempted to clear his mind by reciting the Latin alphabet.
Emma ran her palms over her thighs before meeting his gaze. “Me dad paid me a visit earlier.”
“As he does every eve, does he not?”
“Aye.” Emma lowered her eyes to her tightly clasped hands. “Why did ye push to spend more time with me?”
“Why did you agree if you didn’t wish the same?”
She shrugged. Emma wouldn’t meet his gaze.
His stomach clenched at the sickening thought that she had agreed out of obligation and duty and not out of a desire for his company. He reached out to lift her chin until their eyes met. “Please tell me you didn’t consent to our meetings because you took an oath to serve PORFs.”
He couldn’t read her thoughts behind her shuttered eyes. Gone was the woman seeking out his kisses, replaced by a woman he didn’t recognize. Had all their interactions been merely her sense of duty to see to his needs? He waited, wanting her to deny it. Hoping she’d tell him she was as spellbound as he was. Wish
ing her days had been filled with thoughts of him as his days were with her.
Emma remained silent.
Christopher released a sigh of resignation. Emma wasn’t interested in his company. She didn’t care for him the same way he’d come to cherish her.
“I release you from our agreement.” He donned his coat, hat, and gloves. Speaking to the top of her bent head, he continued, “I won’t subject you to any more lessons or attempt to further court you.” Christopher trudged to the door and let himself out. With the door ajar facing the empty street, he said, “I shan’t forget you, Emma Lennox, but I’ll not bother you anymore.”
* * *
Sitting on the floor in the middle of her store, Emma finished hemming Lady Arabelle’s gown. The tears that had blurred her vision finally rolled down her cheek as she tied a knot and cut the thread away from the gown. Recalling the events of Christopher’s visit was torture. None of it made sense. First, he had arrived early, catching her off guard. Armed with only a half-concocted scheme to determine Christopher’s true intentions, Emma had relied upon her instincts. Caught up in his charming spell, she sought out his kisses. Knowing Christopher was a gentleman and wouldn’t take her innocence unless he intended to marry her, she had dared to invite him up to her bed. Her pride was punctured when he rejected her offer, choosing to remain on the shop floor.
Not one for games, Emma changed tactics and blurted the question she needed to be answered. Except she forgot she was dealing with a barrister who skillfully countered her inquires with questions of his own. Questions she wasn’t ready to answer. She should have answered him. She should have told him the truth—she hadn’t agreed to meet with him out of a sense of duty. Confessed that he had transformed her routine days into adventures. Admitted when he was near, she dared to wish for more.
But when he had uttered the word courtship, she thought her hearing faulty. A series of images had flashed before her. Christopher standing before Reverend Rivers at her church. The PORF mark upon her ankle. Her parents waving from afar. All leaving her mute as Christopher left her shop.
Tempting a Gentleman Page 8
