Tempting a Gentleman by Smith, Ann (bearly read books .txt) 📕

you are angry, you torture me with silence. So out with it. What is truly the matter?”

“I’ve been ordered here to gain yer promise that ye will have yer replacement in place by week’s end.” Bronwyn’s knowing eyes narrowed, but Emma refused to squirm.

“Did you even attempt to argue my case?”

“Of course I did. I talked until me face was red. They’re not askin’ ye to lie about. There are three wise women on the council. All have birthed their fair share of bubs, and they know how tirin’ it is at the beginning and the end. All they ask is that ye take it easy for now.”

Slumping back into the chair, Bronwyn replied, “I don’t have the final decision. Christopher does. I can only present him with the best candidates available, and it is up to him to choose who he will hire.”

This is how things should be between them. Sorting out their problems together. “Blimey, then I’ll have to hunt down yer husband and ask him to advise his brother that if Mr. Neale doesn’t choose, someone else will on his behalf.”

Bronwyn jumped out of her seat and rounded the desk to wrap Emma in a bear hug. “Good gracious. Please share with me what is the matter with you?”

Pushing her friend away for the first time ever, Emma said, “Stop yer fussin’. There nothin’ wrong with me.”

“Emma Lennox.” Bronwyn grabbed Emma squarely by the upper arms. “You never seek out help from others.” Staring eye to eye, Bronwyn continued, “Something has happened. Did Christopher…”

At the mention of his name Emma broke down, and a tear escaped. “Christopher kissed me. Me. And then I had to tell him…I told him the truth.” Her mouth soured even now at the thought of speaking of her horrid sire. “I’d rather sip arsenic than have to repeat wot I admitted to Mr. Neale. Ye know that.”

Bronwyn ushered Emma to the pair of leather chairs separated by a small, round table. Emma sank into one while Bronwyn dragged the other around so that they could sit facing each other.

“Ye shouldn’t be movin’ the bleedin’ furniture about.” Emma found her hands being squeezed by her best friend.

“I didn’t become some fragile creature as soon as I conceived. Enough about me, please tell me what happened.”

“’Tis not much to share. He mistakenly kissed me thinkin’ I was Lady Arabelle. I told him the truth—that I was her grandfather’s bastard. End of story.”

“What do you mean he mistook you for Arabelle?”

“I’ve heard breedin’ causes a woman to lose her wits.” Emma raised an eyebrow. “Another fine reason to remain unwed.”

“I’m serious, Emma. Why did you allow Christopher to kiss you? You never let your guard down.”

She shrugged. She didn’t know the answer despite having thought about it all night. She needed to make her escape soon before Bronwyn suspected she might actually fancy Christopher. “I came here to extract a promise from you, and I’ve a dozen orders waiting, so let me have it.”

Bronwyn’s lips thinned into a straight line. “I have a better idea. We will discuss the matter directly with Christopher.”

Emma clenched her fists. There was no way she was going to see Christopher willingly despite the awakening passion he’d exposed. She was no ninny and had her pride. He hadn’t been thinking of her when he bent his head to press his lips to hers. He’d imagined it was Lady Arabelle.

There were no secrets among the Network. Her mum preyed upon at the tender age of fourteen by the lecherous old geezer, Ulysses Risley, who was Lord Hereford at the time. Ulysses died before Emma was born, succeeded by his son, Harold, who restored honor to the title at war but also gave his life for his country. The current Lord Hereford, Sebastian, who was watched closely by the Network and PORFs, had thankfully inherited none of his grandfather’s terrible traits and continued to honorably uphold the earldom his papa had worked so hard to restore.

From a young age, Emma knew she was different from her siblings. No one in the Network brought up the topic of her lineage. They cared naught, for Emma had also worked hard to prove she had not inherited her sire’s villainous tendencies. She didn’t fear gossip. The ton’s insults couldn’t hurt her more than she allowed them to. She refused to let them hurt her or her mum further. The ton didn’t scare her. It was her own blasted reactions to Christopher she didn’t comprehend.

Bronwyn rose and stood in front of Emma, blocking her from leaving. The door to Bronwyn’s office opened moments later, and Mr. Neale’s warm tenor voice filled the room. “I’ve already considered Mr. Brentworth and Mr. Neatherton’s applications. Neither of them…” He paused as he peered around Bronwyn and caught a glimpse of Emma. “Beg pardon. I didn’t know you had company.”

Bronwyn stepped to the side, and Emma rose. If she didn’t face Christopher as brazenly as her friend would expect, there would be more prying questions from the only other woman who knew her as well as her mum.

Quickly organizing her thoughts, Emma said, “Mr. Neale, the lack of progress in yer search for Bronwyn’s replacement is concernin’ given her delicate condition.”

“Exactly why I prioritized the matter and am here.” He looked her over and smirked. “Are you here to apply for the position?”

“Gor, wot a horrible idea. Absolutely not.”

“Shame.” Christopher reached into his breast coat pocket and retrieved a letter that he held out for her. “Fortunate that you are here, and I can pass this along to you personally.”

Instead of accepting the parchment, she stared at it as if it might bite her. “Wot is it?”

“The instructions for this eve’s lessons.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I thought I was quite clear last eve. There will be no more lessons.”

“I’d hoped you would change your mind.”

“Emma never changes her mind, even when she’s wrong,” Bronwyn chimed in.

Emma turned back to face Bronwyn. “Me sources say if I decline the first