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

ye care to explain the dire emergency ye claimed to be experiencin’ in yer note, I’ll jus’ be on me way.”

He stopped and turned to face Emma. His eyes filled with worry, and another emotion Emma had never seen before. Fear. No. Pride. No. She couldn’t place it, but whatever had caused him to send a carriage to her shop to fetch her was indeed a matter of import.

Clearing his throat, Lord Hereford finally found his voice. “I wish to ask you to refrain from assisting my sister in her devilish schemes.”

Ah. Arabelle. Emma should have known the lady was the center of her brother’s concerns. Orphaned an early age, with only the servants left to raise them, the siblings were extremely close.

The man was being run ragged by his sister. Emma took pity on Lord Hereford and got straight to the point. “Are ye talkin’ about the dress she requested for Lady Hadfield’s ball?”

“Yes, I am. I bloody well had to sequester my dear sister’s maid for an hour before the chit finally confessed. God only knows what the staff was thinking with me having the girl in here all that time.”

Confirmation Emma had guessed correctly at the purpose of the room had her grinning. But the distress in Lord Hereford’s last sentence quickly prompted a quick response. “Ye are nothin’ like yer grandfather, and yer staff knows it.”

Wrinkles about the man’s eyes appeared, aging him beyond his eight and twenty years. Hands clenched firmly behind his back, he said, “Sounds absurd, but knowing his blood runs through my veins, I’m ever vigilant against developing his wicked ways.”

Lord Hereford’s statement struck her heart. Hearing that they shared the same fear placed a large hole in the wall she had built to keep her distance from Lord Hereford—Sebastian. Fustian. Both Hereford siblings were whittling away her resistance to their company.

Guilt at having agreed to design a dress for devilish intentions shot through Emma. Back straight, she said, “Yer sister is stubborn. No changin’ her mind once she has a plan. Best be involved rather than not know.”

“If you won’t desist, then I shall have to cease paying her modiste bill.”

Sebastian’s reply was quick and decisive. Lord Hadfield had chosen wisely in installing Sebastian as privy council to the King and Prinny. At the time of his appointment, Emma had her doubts, but there was no denying the man pacing in front of her was intelligent and possessed great honor. Emma waited for Sebastian to complete a circuit about the room. She lifted her chin and said, “I don’t charge ye.”

Standing with perfect posture, he paused directly before Emma. “Is that so?” He stroked his chin and added, “Arabelle has much to explain. I’ve been much too lenient with her since my return from the Continent.”

Emma laughed and wondered what Arabelle was doing with the extra funds she’d been commandeering from her brother. Meeting Sebastian’s eyes, which were so similar to his sister’s and her own, Emma felt all her defenses crumble. She’d not be denying Sebastian the connection he and his sister had persisted in forming with her.

Brows knitted together, Sebastian asked, “Do you know the identity of this man my sister is intent on marrying?” The flicker of the firelight in his eyes highlighted the man’s anxiety.

With a shake of her head, Emma replied, “Don’t ye?”

Releasing a defeated sigh, he said, “She won’t share the blasted man’s name. But I know her too well—Arabelle will not give up.”

Emma hazarded it was a trait Sebastian shared. And she herself.

She should stay out of the affair entirely, but curiosity got the better of her. “If ye were to know the gentleman’s name, wot would ye do?”

Sebastian cracked his knuckles. “Demand a bloody explanation from the fool.”

“Tis no wonder yer sister refuses to name him. Ye look like ye might kill the fellow. Arabelle is no pea goose.”

Turning on his heel, Sebastian returned to pacing about the room. Resigned she wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, Emma slid further back in her chair. She ran her hand over the crewel-embroidered wool fabric. Tracing the blue thread of a daisy brought an image of Bronwyn to mind. Bronwyn had reassured Emma that she accepted the decision not to attend her debut ball, but Bronwyn hadn’t managed to mask the disappointment in her voice.

“I need your help.” Sebastian’s declaration brought Emma’s attention back to the man who looked like he had solved the world's problems.

“Fer wot?”

“I know Arabelle has some sordid plan for the Hadfield ball.” Waving a finger at her, he said, “You were invited. I need you to attend; help me to ensure Arabelle doesn’t embroil herself in some scandal and to ferret out the man’s identity.”

She had banished the idea of attending. Christopher would be there. It would break her to see him dancing with another after experiencing it herself. No. He needed to find a wife, and she needed… Well, she wasn’t sure exactly how to fix the emptiness in her heart that had taken up residence since Christopher departed from her store, but she’d find a way.

She glared at her host. “Ye’re a bloomin’ former Foreign Agent and the bleedin’ advisor to the King and the Prince Regent. Surely ye have access to resources that can assist ye.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. She imagined it was a look similar to her own.

Placing both hands on his hips, he said, “There is one thing that runs strong in the Hereford bloodlines…well, actually two: obstinacy and the stout ability to prevent anyone but of their choosing to come close. Arabelle trusts you. She might confide in you who the blighter is.”

The concern on Lord Hereford’s features was heart wrenching. Arabelle was lucky to have an older sibling concerned for her welfare. Sebastian’s gaze softened, and he asked again, “Will you assist me?”

Bah. The stubborn set of the man’s jaw told her she’d not be leaving until he received her promise to help. Their family did not need to weather a scandal. And Lord Hadfield