Tempting a Gentleman, Smith, Ann [best ebook for manga TXT] 📗

only other living soul that knew of his passion for music and drawing, both of which he’d abandoned these two years past, busy with running the firm Landon had left to him to oversee.

His mama’s gaze switched between him and Emma before settling on Emma. “When did he give them to you?”

“This morn, Aunt Henri.”

Christopher looked from Emma to his mama and back again. “Aunt Henri?”

His mama continued as if he’d not spoken. “And you have studied them all.”

“Aye.”

She wrapped Emma in a warm hug. “I’ve always been fond of you, girl, but now you have my heart.” She leaned back and said, “Promise to be patient with him.”

What was his mama on about?

Averting his attention back to Emma, he said, “Shall we try again?”

“Have ye decided upon Bronwyn’s replacement?”

She was persistent. He’d give her that. He hid the grin that he rarely shared with anyone but family and said, “No.” He placed her right hand in his left. “However, I have selected five candidates, and I intend to eliminate one each day as we progress through our lessons.”

She didn’t hesitate. Emma positioned her left hand out in front of her and turned so that they stood hip to hip. He admired her courage and determination. But what he really wanted to see was if he could recreate the interest in her gaze from the night before. Which would be an impossible task with his talented mama seated at the pianoforte watching with them with peripheral vision only mothers possess. From the moment she entered the music room, Emma had carefully avoided his gaze—he’d be lucky to coax forth a smile. Damnation. His stroke of brilliance to have his mama chaperone for the evening to protect Emma from scandal and horrid gossip was, in fact, a deucedly ill-conceived plan.

He glanced over at his mama and nodded. With a wink and a smile, his mama placed her fingers over the keys, ready to begin.

Christopher bent his head down and said, “Perhaps you can rest your arm along my back.” She placed her arm about his waist, which felt natural but wouldn’t do in public. “Slightly higher so that your arm is straight.” He let his hand brush along the back of her neck as his hand came to rest upon her shoulder. Her whole body shuddered. He looked down at her, but her lips were drawn tight and her gaze trained in front of them.

As the music began, Christopher led Emma through the marche, and they smoothly transitioned into the pirouette position—facing one another, gazes locked, her right hand in his. Finally, he saw the spark he’d been fixated upon all day.

Emma said, “What’re ye grinnin’ about?”

“Am I smiling?”

“Aye. But I’d rather ye be not foolin’ yerself. I’m not Lady Arabelle.”

He frowned. “I’ve not lost my senses. I’m fully aware of who I have in my arms.” He narrowed his gaze as they slid into a more intimate position, his foot between hers. With the barest of pressure, he squeezed her hand before he raised their joined hands to make an arc above her head. Turning ever so slowly, he simply stared into her eyes.

“Are ye goin’ to make conversation now, or is it the woman’s duty to start the idle chatter?”

He had forgotten himself, imaging he was dancing with a woman who wanted to dance with him, not one who had been coerced to spend time with him.

“Miss Lennox, are you looking forward to the ball?”

Emma pasted a wide smile on her face, but it didn’t erase the scrunch of her brow. “Bronwyn ordered me to be present. I’ll never disobey a direct order from a PORF.”

No, Emma wouldn’t dishonor the oath she took. She was more likely to devise a scheme that would allow her to avoid such orders in the future, though. “I can’t imagine you like letting others order you about.”

Puffing out her chest, Emma said, “It’s a great honor to serve and protect the PORFs. Me family has done so for generations. Bronwyn may have been me friend first, but she’s a PORF now and married to the Head PORF at that.”

He glanced over to see his mama happily lost in the music. He bent his head and asked the question that had plagued him. “Are you at all worried?”

He’d changed topics without preamble, but the recognition in Emma’s eyes was clear.

Not skipping a beat, she easily matched his steps as they promenaded about the room. “Ye’re asking if I care if the ton notices or figures out me connection to the Herefords.”

“Yes.” The brush of her skirts against his leg sent his thoughts scattering for a moment before his gaze landed back upon her serious features.

“I can’t change who me sire was. And I’m not attendin’ for me own pleasure. I’m there to support Bronwyn.” She twisted at the waist to face him. Her brow wrinkled with concern. “Do ye fink me presence will look poor upon Bronwyn?”

Her question poked a hole in his heart. She wasn’t concerned even a little for herself but was troubled by the embarrassment her appearance might cause for her best friend. She was remarkably strong-willed. Uncertain how best to answer, Christopher squeezed her hand that remained securely in his.

Turning her, so she was face-to-face with him once more, he said, “I confess, the inner workings of the ton are far beyond me. I’d hope Theo would have advised Bronwyn and you if it were to be a problem.”

Her features relaxed at the mention of his cousin Theo. “Brilliant. I’ll jus’ have to remember to ask Lady Theo for her opinion tomorrow.”

“What will you do if Theo says you should not attend?”

She pursed her lips in thought. Christopher was quickly becoming fond of the habit. With a smile, Emma answered, “First, I’ll send ye a note lettin’ ye know I’ll not have to continue with these bloomin’ lessons. Second, I’ll simply track Bronwyn down and tell her how it is. I’ll not bring shame upon her or Lord Hadfield.”

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