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

“I know. But I intend to obtain his blessing this morn.” He waited until she turned to face him and then added, “Let me see you home.”

“Are ye mad? I’ll not have the Network gossipin’ before ye speak to me dad.”

Christopher was well aware of how very efficiently the Network spread information. Even Landon and Bronwyn hadn’t managed to keep the news of the babe a secret. But he wanted to see Emma home safe. “The watch will be switching out soon, and you don’t have the cover of darkness to help you go undetected.”

“Ha. Ye have much to learn.” She reached between her legs and pulled up her skirts, revealing her nicely shaped calves. Rather than exiting through the door, she marched to the window and peeked through the center slit in the curtains.

“You can’t be serious. We are three stories up from the ground.” He rushed to the window, but the woman was already out on a tree limb. He poked his head out and caught a glimpse of her small form shimmying down the tree and then ducking to skirt the low wall that led to the mews. Damn, she was fast and silent—and utterly remarkable. He turned to see the watchmen engaged in conversation, oblivious to Emma’s departure.

“Is something amiss this morn, my lord?” Christopher jumped at Cannon’s voice right behind him. Emma must have unlocked the door.

“No. I have a very important meeting this morn.” He ran a hand over his roughened jaw. “A good, clean shave today, Cannon.”

A wide, knowing smile formed on his usually reserved valet’s face. “Aye. I’ll go fetch the strop.”

Perhaps Emma hadn’t been successful at escaping detection. He’d soon find out when he visited his future father-in-law.

Chapter Seventeen

Emma crept up the back stairs of her parents’ home, making her way past the bedroom she used to share with her half-siblings. She had grown used to sleeping alone. Her first month living away from the security of her parent’s roof had been filled with nights of restless sleep—waking at every little creak of the shop. Emma rubbed her upper arms. It was cold most nights sleeping all alone, but last night in Christopher’s arms, she had slept like a babe. Emma halted in front of her parents’ chambers, wringing her hands. Her mind raced. Inhaling, she raised her hand to rap on the door. The thin wood door swung open before her knuckles hit.

“Emma.” Her mum, already dressed for the day, quickly pulled Emma into the room. “Wot’re ye doin’ here?”

When dealing with her mum, it was best not to mince words. “I’m gettin’ married in three weeks.”

Her mum popped her head out of the doorway and peered down the hallway. Closing the door as softly as possible, she leaned against the door and squinted at Emma. Her mum’s gaze narrowed at the sight of Christopher’s cravat that Emma had tied around her wayward tresses. Without a brush, it was the best solution she could manage at the time. No. She had wanted to take a little token from his closet, proof she hadn’t dreamt it all up.

Her mum ran a finger over her cheek and then tilted Emma’s chin up, forcing her to meet her mum’s gaze. “Child, ye best explain. Start with who are ye marrying.”

“Mr. Neale.” Emma looked about the room. “Where is Dad?” Her dad always broke his fast with the family. A trickle of dread ran down her spine.

“He’s been waitin’ for ye at yer shop. If ye didn’t see him, where have ye been all night?” Her mum grabbed her hands and squeezed. “Did the scoundrel seduce ye?”

Christopher was no rogue. She really should ensure the Network reports were revised. Emma shook her head. “No, Mum.”

“But ye were in his bed?”

“Aye.” Emma rushed to explain. “But Christopher was a complete gentleman. I’ll say his sheets and mattress were rather fine. I slept like a babe.”

Her mum released her hands and crossed her arms. “Hmph. Do ye want to marry him?”

With conviction, she answered, “Aye. I do.”

“I thought you believed him to be a total louse, given his apparent lack of interest in his duties as a PORF. Wot changed yer mind?”

She certainly wasn’t about to confess to her mum his kisses had anything to do with her agreeing to marry. Nor would she mention the details of Hereford’s will. There was only one reason that would cease her mum’s questions. “I fell in love with him.” As the words tumbled from her mouth, the truth stuck her—she loved Christopher.

Her mum sat upon the bed and patted the mattress. “Mr. Neale is a handsome fella, I’ll not deny, but are ye sure its love?”

“How can I be sure?” Emma obediently sat on the bed that wasn’t as plush as Christopher’s, but it was clean and familiar. With her forefinger, Emma traced the long stitches forming a simple floral design and waited for her mum to answer.

“It’s difficult to say.” Nothing rattled Emma’s mum. Yet the woman she admired most in the world was nervously pleating the hem of the apron she wore. “When yer not with him, do ye fink of Mr. Neale?”

“Aye.” Emma admitted and then added, “Sometimes I fink of his eyes, but mostly of his words and the clever little ditties he hums when he’s concentrating.”

“Ditties, you say.” Her mum’s gaze bored into her. “Wot d’ye feel when yer near him?”

Emma’s cheeks heated. “Well, he makes me tummy all jittery, and I’m never cold when he’s about.”

“Hmm. Are ye able to chat with him?”

Emma smiled. This was an easy question to answer. “Aye, with as much ease as I can with ye.”

Her mum wrapped Emma up in a hug. She pulled back, and her mum rested her hands upon Emma’s shoulders. “He makes ye happy then.” Her mum gave her a gentle squeeze and smiled. “Yer muscles are not all knotted. Tis good. He’s good for ye.”

“Oh, aye. Mr. Neale can do wonders for me with his fingers.”

Her mum’s eyes went wide