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

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. Wishing 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.

Emma wiped the tears away from the edge of her jaw with the back of her hand. Rolling to her feet, she walked over to the far wall. She ran her hand over the cabinets and drawers designed and crafted by her dad. Her parents’ support had never once wavered in all the years she’d pursued her dreams. Wandering through the bolts of material, ribbon, and lace, Emma mumbled, “Could I really give all this up for a life with Christopher?”

Argh. Bronwyn had once accused Emma of having a terrible habit of taking actions that prevented her from gaining what she most desired. Is that what she had done this eve?

Halfway up the steps to her sanctuary, she turned back to scan the shop floor once more. And for the first time ever, instead of pride flowing through her veins, a cloak of emptiness enveloped about her. Her gaze landed on the settee that she and Christopher had occupied earlier. Tears welled and spilled onto her cheeks. Should she risk the life she had built for herself for an uncertain future?

A future that had the potential to force her to emerge from the shadows of the Network and be thrust into his world alongside the ton, which she had carefully avoided for most of her youth. Until the fateful day she decided to offer her services to the secretive Lady Lucy, the first female Agent of the Home Office. Lady Lucy had been young and in need of the Network’s help. Emma felt a kinship for the woman she couldn’t ignore. Similarly, Emma couldn’t deny the young, grieving Lord Hereford an audience when he appeared on her doorstep, extending her the same offer his papa had years before—for Emma to live under the protection of the Hereford title. She had declined the offer of residence and the generous dowry bequeathed to her. Instead, she extracted a promise from Lord Hereford to never reveal her inheritance and requested the funds be donated to an orphanage run by the Network. Like her mum, she had declined all of Lord Hereford and his papa’s attempts to atone for the trespasses of the past and would continue to do so.

With a heavy heart, she placed a hand on the railing and mounted each step, ready to rest her weary head. Feet firmly planted on the landing, her eyes watered again gazing at the space she had experienced her first real kiss…with Christopher. Emma clutched her stomach. Not even a day had passed, and already she missed him. Crossing the empty space, Emma shuffled behind the screen and crawled into bed. Thankful no one was about, she buried her face in her pillow and wept.

Chapter Twelve

The ink bled into the paper as the nib of Christopher’s quill stilled. Landon’s thunderous booted footsteps echoed through the hall. Damnation, he was in no mood to deal with