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

“Or someone she cares about.” Landon’s fingers stilled. “Why do I get the feeling you are not sharing information?”

“I’m not withholding anything from you.”

“The muscle in your right cheek twitched. You are not being entirely honest with me. Mama made some obscure insinuation that you attempted to kiss my wife’s dearest friend, but Emma believes it was only due to her resemblance to Lady Arabelle. What say you?”

Christopher took a moment to subdue the urge to lunge across the desk and punch his older brother. “I’m not a rogue going about town debauching innocent women.” Releasing a sigh, he added, “I’ll admit for a brief moment during our first meeting, I may have been confused by Emma’s resemblance to Lady Arabelle. However, I see Emma with such clarity now that there is absolutely no confusing her with another.”

“Is that so?” Landon nodded to the illustrations he had been working on. “And those?”

“A medium to expel the images from my mind is all.”

“It is your wish to banish Emma from your thoughts?”

“The damn woman is a conundrum. Confounding. Bewitching.”

“Sounds to me you have much to consider, little brother.” The annoying dent in Landon’s cheek appeared as an all-knowing smile formed on his brother’s smug face. “Both Bronwyn and I appreciate your attempts to teach Emma how to dance.” Narrowing his gaze, Landon added, “Emma did share with me your agreement.”

His scheme to spend more time with Emma had failed. “I shall hire an assistant by week’s end.” If he had a capable secretary in place, it would free his time. Time he could spend getting to know Emma better.

“My thanks, brother.” Landon patted one of the large stacks of files upon his desk. “It does appear you are in need of help. Should I return tomorrow?”

“No need.” He had everything under control.

Running the family law firm hadn’t been his choice, but it was his responsibility nonetheless. He wasn’t one to shirk his duties nor disappoint his family. He simply had to resign himself to his lot and ignore the yearning to create something apart from his papa’s legacy. Landon had adapted, and so would he.

Landon leisurely rose out of his seat. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it and see myself out.”

Christopher nodded and waited for Landon’s booted footsteps to fade. Picking up the drawings of Emma, he debated whether or not to go see her. The faster he thumbed through the illustrations, the more the woman came to life—a vibrant, independent woman. Emma was right. She didn’t need him to teach her a thing. She was perfect in her own right.

Exhaustion settled in—his entire body heavy weighed down by melancholy. He blew out the candles and headed home. The easy jaunt to his townhouse was taxing, as his feet carried him in the opposite direction his heart wished to venture.

* * *

Punching his pillow, Christopher cursed his inability to fall asleep. His conversation with Landon repeated over and over in his mind. His brother naturally asked a great many questions, and even when he had attempted to hide the truth, Landon had simply accepted Christopher’s weak responses without further inquisition.

Something was amiss.

Landon had hinted Emma’s decision had something to do with protecting someone she cared for and not necessarily Bronwyn. He wouldn’t get rest until he had the answer. He rolled out of bed. Early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains as he let his eyes adjust for a moment. Ignoring the clothes that had been neatly laid out by the valet Landon insisted he hire, Christopher entered the adjoining room that housed his clothes. He retrieved a pair of trousers and a simple lawn shirt and made quick work of dressing.

Christopher stood in front of the looking glass. Relocating to a residence of his own hadn’t brought with it the independence he’d craved. He loved being close to family, but being an heir to a title and brother to the leader of a clandestine organization were limiting rather than liberating. He’d ignored the constant, watchful, and well-meaning footmen while in residence with Landon, but having another subset watch over his home even though he had yet to receive the mark of a PORF seemed a waste of resources.

Narrowing his gaze at the man in the mirror, Christopher shook his head. Hmph. The man before him appeared the relaxed, nonchalant second son of a gentleman. It was a look he’d mastered, but Christopher’s muscles were definitely strained taut beneath his clothing. Christopher’s mask had only ever been stripped from him twice. Both times by a brazen, cockney-accented blonde who danced in his arms.

Jamming his arms through his greatcoat sleeves, Christopher strode through his townhouse. He’d nearly made it to the front door.

“Mr. Neale. Mr. Neale,” his housekeeper called out from behind him.

He swiveled and waited for the meddling woman to catch up to him. “Yes, Mrs. Gainville.”

The woman wiped her hands over her apron. “Mr. Neale…umm…” She threw her hands in the air and said, “She didn’t want us to wake ye… She’s been waitin’ for ye in the kitchens. Of course, ye appear when she popped into…never ye mind about that.”

Summoning the last remnants of patience he possessed, Christopher asked, “It’s rather early, as you say, Mrs. Gainville. Pray tell, who is she?”

“Miss Emma Lennox, sir.”

“Emma?” He stepped away from the front door and headed toward the kitchens.

He entered the warm, herb-scented room. Amidst the busy space, Emma stood by the prep table, chattering away with one of the kitchen hands who was whisking eggs.

Not wanting to interrupt, he took a moment to take in her image. She was beautiful in her day dress – a shade of light blue that reminded him of a cloudless day. It was simple and functional in design, not at all like the walking dresses with bows and flounces favored by the ladies of the ton.

Emma’s gaze fell upon him, and Christopher cleared the lump from his throat. “Someone should have seen to your comfort and summoned me.”

“I prefer the kitchens,