Tempting a Gentleman

by Smith, Rachel Ann

  Emma’s heart cinched. She shouldn’t have said nothing would change, for that had been a lie. She would simply have to figure a way to make it the truth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bounding out of his coach and up to the landing in front of Emma’s shop, Christopher reached up to tug at his cravat that seemed to be tightening about his neck. Eager to see Emma, he pushed aside his fears of the conversation that must be had with her father. A mere two hours had passed since Emma had scrambled down a tree, but it seemed far longer under the extra attention his valet paid to shaving and dressing him. Cannon executed his duties with a precision and care that his valet claimed only befitting Christopher’s upcoming meeting. Between the time Cannon had left to retrieve the strop and the time he returned, it was evident that the Network had learned of and dispersed the news of his plans to seek permission to marry Emma. His entire staff beamed with pride as Christopher walked through his townhouse on his way out.

  Christopher’s knuckles were about to hit the wood frame when the door swung open, and Mr. Lennox’s large form filled the space.

  Through gritted teeth, Mr. Lennox asked, “Where’s me daughter?”

  The man’s face was flushed red. Christopher had hoped to catch his future father-in-law in a fine mood, but like with most matters, Christopher would have to wrangle and charm his way through the situation. Peering over the stout man’s shoulder, Christopher said, “I had assumed she was here with you.” The coachman had advised Christopher he’d find Mr. Lennox at Emma’s shop.

  Mr. Lennox widened his stance and crossed his beefy arms. “She’s not here. Wot d’ye want?”

  It was a rather broad question—Christopher wanted the man’s blessing to marry Emma. He wanted to marry posthaste. He wanted the mark of a PORF. He wanted a life of his choosing. He wanted to see to Emma’s happiness. He wanted children. He wanted so much more, but first and foremost, he wanted Emma.

  Matching Mr. Lennox’s steely glare, Christopher said, “I would like to speak with you. Perhaps we could go inside?”

  “Wot about?”

  Surely the man had heard through the Network’s communication channels Christopher’s purpose. The twitch of his future father-in-law’s lips gave the man away. Oh, Mr. Lennox knew why he had come—it was a challenge of sorts.

  Playing along, Christopher looked about and puffed out his chest stating clearly, “I wish to marry Emma and have come to—” He didn’t finish his request, as he found himself stumbling backward.

  Mr. Lennox’s meaty hand was firmly planted in the middle of Christopher’s chest as the man took a step forward, exiting the shop and closing the door behind him. “Ye need to seek the Council’s permission first.”

  Christopher scanned his surroundings. His guards had moved into the shadows but were close by. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he asked, “The Network Council?”

  His future father-in-law chuckled and then laid his heavily muscled arm over Christopher’s shoulder. “Aye. It’s not a far jaunt on foot. I’ll take ye there.”

  An hour later, sweat dampened Christopher’s collar. He glanced at Mr. Lennox. “You do know the way, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  Christopher wasn’t certain. They had been alternating between a brisk pace and that of a tortoise. While Mr. Lennox was comfortable in a lawn shirt and breeches, Christopher was not enjoying the rare sun-filled morning. Christopher finally stopped to remove his hulking greatcoat. “How much further?”

  Mr. Lennox grinned and said, “Oh, I reckon another block or two.”

  Christopher turned and searched for signs of the footmen following them. When they remained out of sight, Christopher asked, “Were you nervous when you sought permission to marry Emma’s mama?”

  “Gor—worst day of me life.” Mr. Lennox grinned. “But I’d do it all over again.”

  Regaining his balance after Mr. Lennox nudged him in the side, Christopher wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “If I have to follow you around town all day for the opportunity to gain permission to marry Emma, I’ll happily do it.”

  With a decided nod, the man said, “Ye’ll do.” Eyeing Christopher with a look of understanding, Mr. Lennox added, “Ye may have me blessin’, but it’s gonna take a lot more fer yer to charm the socks of the bloomin’ Elders’ Council.”

  Christopher didn’t doubt the man’s words and continued to trudge alongside his future father-in-law. Catching the slight shake of a guard’s head in front of them, Christopher sighed and said, “You are awaiting a signal.” The man’s silence was confirmation enough.

  He didn’t have to wait much longer. Christopher spied the young footman Simon beaming a broad grin in Mr. Lennox’s direction before disappearing behind a building. They came to a halt in front of Rutherford’s jewelry shop. How fortunate—he’d be able to purchase a ring for Emma. Mayhap luck was on his side after all.

  Mr. Lennox slapped Christopher’s back, heartily, and said, “Good luck, lad.” His future father-in-law winked and pushed open the door. “If ye manage to git their approval…and ye survive Cadby’s torture, ye may call me Dad.”

  Christopher froze. Torture? Hadn’t he suffered enough already? The agony of not knowing what the Elders may demand of him as he traipsed about town was distressing enough. Although, the time spent in Mr. Lennox’s company had allowed him to gain perspective. Emma was well worth any demand they may make of him.

  Mr. Lennox gave Christopher another shove, and he stumbled into the shop. Righting himself, Christopher turned and asked. “Are you not coming?”

  “Nay. I’m not a member of the council. Off ye go. They’re expecting ye.” Mr. Lennox turned and walked away, whistling a ditty as the door slid shut.

  Staring at the closed door, Christopher wondered who “they” were. How many elders would he be facing?

  Rutherford’s booming voice came from the back of the shop. “Mr. Neale, I’d be much obliged if you would lock the door and turn the sign for me. We have been expecting you.”

  Christopher wasn’t surprised that the old jeweler was a member of the Network Council. His store sign over the door displayed a rather intricate design of a harped angel—only slightly less elaborate than the one that adorned Emma’s shop sign.

  Rutherford continued, “We’ll be with you in a moment. Might I suggest you peruse the cabinets at your leisure? I’m certain there is a ring that would suit.”

  Though he’d peered into each glass case , none of the wedding bands encapsulated Emma’s unique personality. He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved the half-size pencil and parchment he always carried. He’d sketch a wedding band that would reflect his feelings for Emma. Instead of outlining a design, he found himself jotting down words.

  Trust

  Passion

  Life

  Yours

  Forever.

  A posy ring was the answer. If he was correct, Emma would prefer a plain gold band with a special inscription for her eyes only. He was no poet. He needed to choose the words wisely—but which ones would best convey his commitment and love for her?

  Tapping the pencil against his lips, he bemoaned the limited vocabulary of a barrister when it came to feelings. From the corner of his eye, he caught Rutherford spying on him.

  Tucking the pencil and parchment back into his jacket, Christopher turned to face the jeweler. “Rutherford. How long would it take for you to fashion a posy ring?”

  “A gold band, no outer design with five or fewer words engraved, would take a few hours.” Rutherford reached into a cabinet behind the counter and withdrew a tray of rings in various sizes and widths. The old man expertly palmed a few testing weights and sizes about his forefinger. After evaluating six or so, he selected one and handed it over to Christopher. “’Tis the one.”

  It was small and narrow, with little room for a message. “Five words, you say.”

  “Aye. Will that be an issue, sir?”

  “No. Shall I provide them now or
after our meeting?”

  “After.” Rutherford grinned and turned to lead him to the back room.

  Christopher’s stomach knotted. Unprepared for whom he was about to meet, he wasn’t able to mask his surprise at being greeted by Emma’s mother. If Mrs. Lennox was a council member, then Emma was a highly ranked member of the Network. Christopher inwardly groaned as Bronwyn’s father, Cadby, came out from the shadows and stood behind Mrs. Lennox.

  Lord Waterford appeared next and stood to the right of Mrs. Lennox. “Christopher, welcome. Due to the importance of the matter to be discussed, the council deemed it necessary to convene at this rather odd hour. However, that precludes two members who are currently at work. Both have proxied their votes to Mrs. Lennox.”

  “I apologize for the inconvenience. I’d be willing to return at a more convenient time if it would be preferred.”

  Mrs. Lennox stepped forward. “Ye’re not to see Emma unless terms have been agreed to.” The woman moved to sit at the head of the table, motioning Christopher to be seated to her right.

  He slid into the chair, and the others took their seats. Lord Waterford, the only familiar friendly face, sat opposite him.

  Hands clasped resting on the table, Mrs. Lennox calmly said, “Ye shall arrange to have the banns read at our parish, not yers. Fer the next three weeks, ye’re to dine with our family on Wednesdays. And no more sneakin’ about at night; ye’ll court me Emma proper.”

  Christopher released a sigh of relief. As far as demands went, the ones made so far were easy to fulfill. Except he found Mrs. Lennox's stipulation to dine with Emma’s family for only three weeks peculiar.

  Before he could utter his agreement to the requests, Lord Waterford added, “The council also respectfully requests you see to it that Emma agrees to limit her services to only those listed.” He pushed a piece of paper towards Christopher.

  Christopher scanned the features of the members of the council. Not one of them appeared happy with the request, but all seemed resolved. He looked to Mrs. Lennox. “Emma’s shop is everything to her. It should be hers to run as she pleases. I understand as a husband, I’d legally have the right to make such an absurd demand, but…it will be impossible to do as you ask without hurting Emma.”

  Mrs. Lennox stiffened in her seat, and her brows swooped down into a fierce frown. “You will have to figure out a way.”

  He was willing to do anything to secure their consent, but to agree to Emma relinquishing control over her shop was like asking him to give up the firm. The demand was unthinkable.

  Lord Waterford cleared his throat. “We humbly request that you, as a member of the Hadfield line, seek your brother’s permission for you and Emma to escort a contingent of Network members to America. Our intent is that they will remain and establish a base there so we may fulfill our duty to support all PORFs. It will allow you to take Emma on an adventure and, allow time for the two of you to adjust to your new roles.”

  Christopher mumbled, “Madness. Utter madness.” Becoming a PORF appeared to be a double-edged sword. He wanted to fulfill the duties of a PORF as the men in his family had done for generations. But to hurt the woman he loved in order to carry out those duties—he couldn’t do it. There must be another way. And as Mrs. Lennox stated, he’d have to figure out a way.

  The man he thought a friend stared at Christopher hard. After moments of silence, Lord Waterford sighed. “If you don’t believe you can meet our wishes, we shall have to refuse permission to wed Emma. Only a man willing to take on these tasks is worthy of our Emma’s hand.”

  Damnation. While the voyage to the eastern shores of the New World was fast becoming routine, the seas were still littered with pirates. It was not a short jaunt to Europe and back. This request would require significant planning, many weeks at sea, and then many more months once they were upon land to safely establish and infiltrate a city. It was an enormous challenge. And hadn’t he privately wished for change and adventure only a few weeks ago? There was no other woman of his acquaintance that he would want by his side to assist him, but what of Emma’s wishes?

  When Lord Waterford placed his palms flat upon the table as if he was preparing to leave, Christopher stalled the man’s actions by saying, “Very well. I agree to your terms.” After all, he’d vowed to do whatever they asked.

  With a wide smile, Mrs. Lennox whispered, “Ye should have tried to negotiate.”

  “Emma is too valuable to me to risk the council’s wrath.”

  “Welcome to me family.” She patted his arm. “I shall do me best to ease things with Emma, but yer brother and the journey across the seas, that ye’ll have to do on yer own.”

  “I appreciate the support, but I shall fulfill all requirements on my own.”

  Mrs. Lennox stood, and the men followed. Last to rise, Christopher caught Waterford staring at the parchment still sitting upon the table.

  He unfolded it, expecting a long list of ladies' names. Instead, there was only one name, and a peculiar one at that. Eliza Suttingham. Damnation. The woman’s name meant either he was to bring Tobias, Lord Burke, the third PORF family back home to England, or the journey was intended to be more permanent. His mind began to whirl with possibilities and ramifications. Stomach and head in turmoil, Christopher simply blinked when Waterford slapped an arm about his shoulders.

  His friend gave him a little shake. “Do not fear. I’m at your disposal should you need assistance.”

  “My thanks.” Christopher waved the note in front of Waterford. “Who decided upon this?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. I might suggest you have tea with your dear sister-in-law, Countess Hadfield, this afternoon.”

  Yes, an afternoon with Bronwyn would be a grand idea. But he needed to speak to her alone. Turning to Waterford, Christopher asked, “I could do with your help.”

  Instantly Waterford replied, “I’m happy to assist.”

  “I need you to keep my brother occupied for a few hours.”

  The man’s eyes widened and lit up with excitement. “Hmmm…what do you suggest?”

  Christopher loved his brother and inwardly flinched at the idea of Waterford inflicting physical harm to Landon, but he needed a solid two hours to discuss matters with Bronwyn. “An afternoon at Gentleman Jacksons?”

  Grinning, Waterford said, “Perfect. Hadfield needs to be knocked on his arse every now and then. I’ll happily volunteer to do it. How long do you need him gone?”

  Christopher suspected Waterford still had not forgiven Landon for vying for his lady’s hand in marriage, not that Lady Mary ever seriously considered Landon’s suit.

  Regretting making the suggestion, Christopher asked, “Why?”

  “Well, if I knock him out right away, it won’t give you much time with Countess Hadfield. I think I shall let him get a punch or two in.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind. But I’ll warn you, while you have been up holed up in Scotland with your wife, Landon’s been practicing with Archbroke.”

  “Hmph. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to discuss matters with your dear sister-in-law. However, I do expect you to have whatever is needed to carry out the promises you made here today.” Cracking his knuckles with glee, Waterford left the room.

  There was only one last task before he took his own leave. He tore off the bottom half of the parchment with Miss Suttingham’s name on it and placed it between his lips, while he folded the remaining half with the woman’s name on it and tucked it into his breast pocket. Withdrawing his pencil from his jacket, he took the parchment from his mouth, bent over the table, and scribbled the words, me kisses are fer ye.

  Grinning, he left the room and as he passed Rutherford the note. “I’ll be at my brother’s townhouse; have it delivered there.”

  Without looking at the note, Rutherford said, “It will be done.”

  Christopher strode down the path with a new purpose. Anything for Emma.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Eyes trained on the cente
r of the Hadfield butler’s back, Emma followed the man she’d known since childhood and whose family had served the Hadfields for generations.

  Sweeping the drawing room door open for her, he whispered, “My felicitations on your betrothal. We are proud of ye.”

  Emma met the old man’s gaze that shone bright with pride. “Me thanks. I hope Christopher survives his meetin’ with the council.”

  Bronwyn’s quick, slippered footsteps were nearing, and Emma braced herself for an embrace. Except her best friend didn’t engulf her in a hug from behind; instead, the lady grabbed her hand and tugged her into the room. The soft click of the door echoed through the large drawing room.

  Face-to-face with her best friend’s scowl, Emma masked her disappointment. “I’ve come to share the news of my engagement to Christopher and to—”

  Bronwyn narrowed her gaze, squeezed Emma’s hand, and said, “While I’m overjoyed at the news, I’m befuddled as to exactly how this all came about.”

  “Ye don’t look happy.”

  Releasing Emma, Bronwyn gracefully sank down into a chair and waved to the settee. “Sit.”

  Emma perched herself on the edge as she had last time she visited. “Wot has ye in such a foul mood this morn?”

  “Your mum paid me a visit on her way to the council meeting. Before Christopher arrives, I need to know why you agreed to marry.”

  Since her mum had already popped by, Emma repeated the reasoning she gave her mum. “I love him.”

  “Emma Lennox, you just met Christopher not long ago. Are you sure there is no other reason?”

  Of course her best friend wouldn’t simply accept a declaration of love. Using the tactic of avoidance, one of Bronwyn’s favorite devices to deflect her opponents, Emma said, “The other reason I’m here is to tell ye I’ve changed me mind, and I’ll be attendin’ yer bloomin’ ball after all.”

  Hereford had asked for her assistance, and Emma hadn’t the heart to refuse. She’d given her word to watch out for Arabelle at the blasted event. Hereford was a fine negotiator. It was no wonder he excelled as an advisor to the King and Prinny. A burst of pride radiated within Emma and her lips curved into a smile.