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

her smiling, and so he teased, “Oh, Landon will be so disappointed to hear you still refer to him by his title.”

“He’s the bloomin’ Head PORF. Of course I’ll refer to him with respect.”

She made him smile, and he wasn’t about to release her from their agreement. “You can’t quit. The deal was five dance lessons under my tutelage, and in return, I shall hire an assistant. The lessons were never dependent upon you attending the ball.”

She stopped mid-twirl. “Ye’re tryin’ to confuse me, spinnin’ me around and yammerin’ on like a lawyer. If ye fink I shouldn’t go, then why did ye insist on these silly lessons?”

He told her the truth. “I wanted to spend time with you and dance with you.”

“Why—because I remind ye of Lady Arabelle? If ye can’t have ’er, ye want to dally with me?”

“Yes. No.” He didn’t release her. “Wait, let me explain.”

She raised a pretty eyebrow, detangled herself from him, and crossed her arms. If he peeked under her skirts, he’d probably see her tapping her foot, but she remained stock still, and there was no sound to indicate he was right.

He needed her back in his arms. His mama played on, blissfully unaware that they had stopped dancing. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he inched closer and brought his hand up just below her chin. He dared not to touch her until he’d fully explained. “This has nothing to do with Lady Arabelle. She made her choice, and the woman chose another. I made the deal…well, I’m not certain of why except that I couldn’t focus on anything but counting the minutes until I’d see you again.”

Emma’s shoulder’s relaxed a tad at his ill-formulated explanation. On a half sigh, she said, “Thank ye for yer honesty. If Lady Theo deems it unwise for me to attend the ball, I shall send word as I’ve no interest in prancin’ about when I’ve orders to fill. If I do have to attend, then I’ll ask ye simply send over more of yer drawings.”

Her rejection stung. He lifted her chin up, so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Is it really a torture to spend an evening with me?”

The chit rolled her eyes. “Do ye know how long it takes to design, cut patterns and material, and sew one gown for these women?” She stripped off her gloves. “It takes a few hundred pinpricks and at least three days of sewin’, and I’ve got orders up to me eyeballs.”

He wasn’t going to give up the chance to spend more time with Emma. “Illustrations are not enough. I’ll compromise; if you are to attend, I shall provide the drawings, and I’ll give you tomorrow night as a reprieve, but we must meet the following eve.”

Eyes narrowed, she searched his features. With a curt nod that dislodged his touch, she said, “Agreed.”

He released the air trapped in his lungs. “I shall eagerly await to hear my dear cousin’s verdict tomorrow.”

Emma left him and walked straight up to his mama without a second glance at him. She tapped his mama’s shoulder, and the music came to a jarring halt.

“Sorry, Aunt Henri. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

His mama smiled and flickered her gaze over at him. “Had enough of my son already?”

“Aye.”

Emma treated his mama with a level of deference she didn’t take with him. In fact, she treated both Bronwyn and Landon with the same level of respect. Yet, she treated him entirely differently. Uncertain if he was irritated by the fact or pleased, he escorted the women to the coach with the Hadfield crest awaiting them out front.

Chapter Seven

Emma arranged her skirts as Aunt Henri retrieved and passed her a blanket from a hidden compartment under the opposite bench. “What displeases you about my son?”

Nothing got past this woman.

Emma sighed. “Why did you and your husband decide not to have your children receive the mark at birth?”

“Simple. My dear belated husband, in his infinite wisdom, believed that the mark shapes a man’s thinking before he can form his own identity. He wanted our sons to be free to decide their fate.” She smiled. “I see you do not agree with my late husband’s logic.”

The coach rattled along the cobbled streets mimicking Emma’s thoughts. “It is an honor, not a burden.”

“And is that the sentiment you hold towards being born into a Network that serves PORFs?”

“What has Lord Hadfield shared with you about the Network?”

“Child, you could have been my own daughter, answering questions with a question just like my boys.” Aunt Henri smiled and answered, “Naught. But I sense he has ruffled a few feathers amongst the Network.”

“In choosing Bronwyn for wife, he stirred a pot that had been simmerin’ for a long while. Lord Hadfield is astute and has a way about him that we are comin’ to understand. He’s nothing like his brother.”

“Oh, I think you might have underestimated my younger son. Christopher is, in fact, more akin to his papa—unassuming but extremely hard to deter once they’ve set their course.”

Hmph. Christopher appeared quite happy to adhere to his older brother’s wishes and happily run the family business. Yet there had been a time or two when Emma noted the extra moment Christopher took to answer particular questions and sensed the silent sighs when he was torn between his own desires and those he cared for and respected. Christopher might not be the man she had initially assumed him to be.

“I don’t think Christopher has decided upon a future.”

Aunt Henri burst into laughter. “Oh my dear child, he most definitely has already chosen a path on which to venture. And in typical Christopher fashion, it is not an easy route.”

She patted Emma on the knee and promptly closed her eyes, leaving Emma a tad befuddled. Emma ran her sweaty hands over her skirts, pausing at the spot where Aunt Henri had touched her in a motherly fashion. Emma refrained from poking the woman to demand what