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possess fears. I’m certain Emma shares the same concerns as you about the mission. My recommendation is you find a way to face them together.” His brother unwound his long form and stood. “I shall keep an eye on Weathersbee since I presume you will be otherwise occupied this eve.”

Christopher waved his brother off and returned to stare at the pages before him. He had let his fear of rejection rule him for days, preventing him from seeing the woman he loved. It was possible Emma, regardless if she loved him or not, would let her worries about leaving her family prevent her from agreeing to accompany him.

He would miss the birth of Landon and Bronwyn’s firstborn. Drumming his fingers upon his desk, he waited for more depressing thoughts to come. Instead, images of Emma, pregnant and smiling, filled his mind. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and fingered the posy ring that had remained close to his heart. The ring should be settled upon Emma’s finger. He’d rectify that tonight.

Reordering the files on his desk into alphabetical order, the question of what had kept Emma preoccupied for days kept poking at his mind. Rather than hypothesizing, he needed to go to her. The last folder remaining was the one that contained the carefully crafted list of Network members that he and Landon had selected to relocate to the New World. Christopher opened the file and examined the list once more. The decision upon which members to send to America had taken an extraordinary amount of time and a fair amount of consideration. Families would be disbanded, and several critical positions within PORF households would have to be filled. The long days and nights working alongside Landon were poignant reminders of how things used to be before Landon inherited the earldom. It also reinforced how much Christopher would miss his older brother’s sound guidance.

The flicker of the candle reminded Christopher to check his pocket watch. Half-past eight—later than he had planned to leave, but Emma should still be awake. Raising his arms above his head, he stretched out his tired, sore back and then lowered his arms to roll his aching shoulders. The thought of seeing Emma refueled his lagging body. He grabbed the list of Network members, folded it precisely into quarters, and placed it alongside Emma’s posy ring. Christopher’s stomach growled. He would head home and have Cook prepare a picnic basket. Emma had a tendency to skip meals too. He smiled at the idea of sharing a repast with her again. He’d made it two blocks from the offices before a footman emerged from the shadows and began to follow him unusually close.

Swiveling to confront the guard, Christopher asked, “What is the matter?”

Simon replied, “Nuffin, sir. Miss Lennox asked that we made sure ye made it safe back to her shop, is all.”

“Very well. We will make a quick detour to my townhouse to pick up some food, and then we can be on our way.”

Grinning like a fool, Simon revealed a picnic basket from behind his back. “Already done, sir.”

Damnation, he’d had the notion mere moments ago; the Network could not have known his wishes. No, but they had anticipated them—meddling fools. But Christopher had to admit, in this instance, it was a good thing. Sometimes good intentions do result in favorable outcomes. It didn’t make him sympathetic to their interfering ways, but he did appreciate their concern.

Striding across town, Christopher’s nerves finally settled enough that he no longer felt nausea at the idea of asking Emma to leave her shop, family, and friends behind in return for an undefined future with him. Christopher mounted the steps to Emma’s front door, resolved to obtain her answer. He took the food from Simon, who was still grinning, and pushed forward into Emma’s shop. The bell tinkled overhead as the door swooshed open. Christopher scanned the shop. “Emma?”

“I’ll be rit with ye.” Emma's steady voice came from above.

“Has your dad arrived for the eve?”

Emma appeared on the steps in a lovely, light-blue day dress. “He’s come and gone. Lock me door and turn the sign.”

He did as he was instructed and heard Emma sigh. Taking slow, methodical steps, he joined her on the stairs. “What is the matter?”

Hands on her hips, Emma asked, “Do ye always comply without hesitation?”

“Not always. I might object if there were a good reason to.”

Emma frowned and turned to mount the steps. Following close behind, he noted the sagging of her normally taut straight shoulders. He froze as he reached the landing. Pillows had been arranged around a blanket on the floor.

Emma gracefully sank down on the far corner and curled her feet under her skirts. “Are ye goin’ to join me or stand there starin’?”

Of course she knew of his plans. Nothing was kept secret amongst the Network. He placed the basket in the center of the blanket and sat with both legs stretched out in front, crossed at the ankles. “Simon tells me you’ve been extremely busy.”

She raised her gaze to meet his. “Aye. All because of ye and yer bloomin’ plans.”

“My plans?”

“I’m not likin’ the idea of ye marryin’ me and then ye leavin’.”

Christopher’s heart burst with hope.

The angry slope of her brows told him she was deadly serious when she said, “It’s not the union I’d imagined when I agreed to wed ye.”

Trying to control the mixture of fear and hope rioting through his veins, Christopher swallowed and then said, “Enlighten me. What type of union did you envision for us?”

Busy pulling out the food from the basket, Emma began mumbling, more to herself than answering his question. “It’s not like I wanted a fancy life or anythin’. I was content.” Emma paused, hand in midair with a shiny red apple. “Aye, I would have been happy if me life continued to go on the same but with a husband.” Emma snorted—Liar. Catching herself, she handed him the apple and repeated, “I jus’ didn’t imagine being

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