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

Reluctant for her to leave, he asked, “Will you stay and eat?”

“Nay. I best be off. I’ve got ladies comin’ fer fittin’ all day.” She stood and bent and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek and said, “Goodbye fer now.”

She left and took a little piece of him with her. It was an odd sensation that he’d never experienced, and he wasn’t entirely certain if he cared for the hollow, empty feeling.

Chapter Ten

Smoothing out the mint-green silk, Emma sighed. Her last appointment for the day was late. She glanced back down at the shimmering material. The shade of green would highlight its owner’s eyes. Lady Arabelle had dared Emma to design a dress for Bronwyn’s ball that would tempt a man of the cloth. It was a brash, reckless challenge, and one no sensible modiste would accept, but Emma had been itching to test her skills. Lady Arabelle’s youthful form would complement even the most basic of designs, but she wanted a gown that would accentuate her pert bosom and emphasize her petite waist, all in an effort to make the man of her heart submit to his own desires. A tiny spark of guilt pricked Emma’s conscience on behalf of the target of Lady Arabelle’s scheme. Why the man refused to come up to snuff and offer for the woman boggled Emma’s mind. Lady Arabelle was intelligent, well versed in politics, and had a head for investments. It was no wonder Christopher had once been interested in pursuing her. Lady Arabelle would have made a fine wife for Christopher. Wife. Christopher was on the hunt for a wife.

Emma gripped the edge of the cutting table, short of breath. She inhaled slowly until the stabbing sensations in her chest abated. He should be seeking out a woman more like Lady Arabelle, not negotiating agreements to spend time with the likes of her. She would never manage to be refined and poised like Bronwyn had. Ladies didn’t agree to secret meetings alone with a gentleman. And they certainly didn’t seek out kisses to seal bargains that were dangerous to their hearts. Never before had a man’s perusal caused her body to respond. Instead of revulsion at what Emma believed to be vile male thoughts, Christopher’s gaze sparked a sinful curiosity within her. The man’s intense stares made her insides quiver, even more than his fiery kisses.

The bell over her shop door tinkled, announcing Lady Arabelle’s arrival. The persistant younger lady had made it a weekly habit to visit for an hour or two. More often than not, Lady Arabelle would simply chatter on about the latest on dit while Emma sewed or took inventory. At first, Emma hadn’t the heart to turn the lady away, believing Lady Arabelle was lonely. However, she wasn’t without friends amongst her set, as Emma came to hear all about them. After Lady Arabelle’s third visit, the woman confessed she wished to strengthen their family bond. Emma was well aware of Arabelle’s tenacity, and if Emma had denied her, Arabelle would simply have devised another scheme. And so each week, Emma waited for Lady Arabelle to burst through her door—for the woman was a whirlwind of energy.

“Emma!” The girl's sweet voice was lyrical even when shouting.

Pulling back the curtain to the back room, Emma smiled and said, “Lady Arabelle, ye finally arrived.”

“I apologize. I had a devil of a time escaping. Sebastian and his lectures.” Lady Arabelle embraced Emma in a hug. “We heard you will be attending the Hadfield ball. Sebastian would love for you to arrive with us in the Hereford carriage.”

How amusing that the news of the coming and goings of a mere dressmaker made it to the ears of the members of the ton. “That’s nice of yer brother to offer, but I’m not attending.”

“But we were told...” Lady Arabelle released Emma and demanded, “Why not?”

“For me own reasons.” Emma swiveled and rounded the table to grab a bowl full of pins. If the woman continued to press, Emma wondered how many pinpricks the woman would endure before she desisted.

Lady Arabelle said, “But Countess Hadfield is your oldest and dearest friend.”

Deciding it best not to draw blood, Emma placed the pins next to the mint-green gown that remained laid out on the cutting table.

Emma stomped out of the back room, leaving her client behind. “Bronwyn needs to make new friends.”

Coming to a halt next to the measuring table, Emma grabbed a bolt of pink floral satin and let it fall upon the bench with a loud thump, punctuating her statement. It was one thing for a lady to associate herself with a dressmaker but an utter disgrace to claim a bastard as her friend. Emma did not want to embroil Bronwyn in a scandal that was neither of their doing. No. It was best she didn’t attend.

Lady Arabelle pressed on. “You can’t mean that.”

The entreaty chipped a piece of Emma’s heart away. Of course she didn’t want to lose her best friend. But Emma would rather poke her eye with a needle than to bring shame upon Bronwyn. Why didn’t the lady and her brother understand that insisting on claiming her as family would cause tongues to wag, and none of the gossip would be kind or beneficial to their status amongst their peers? Heavens above—Lord Hereford was privy council to the King and Prince Regent. What was he thinking, offering to escort her to the ball?

Emma glared at Lady Arabelle. It was like staring into a looking glass—they shared the same honey-blonde hair, heart-shaped face, and unfashionably lush lips. Bronwyn’s guests would have to be blind not to see the family resemblance. Attending the Hadfield ball was out of the question. The Herefords already attracted enough attention. Between Sebastian—unwed, titled and blessed with his papa’s handsome features—and Arabelle’s beauty and skill at the pianoforte, the family garnered more than its fair share of attention from the matchmaking mamas and patriarchs of