Page 19 of Tempting a Gentleman
“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 isshe?”
“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, and I’ve enjoyed chattin’ with me friends.”
“You came to visit your friends and not me, then.”
“Don’t be daft; of course, I’ve come to see ye.” A flash of uncertainty crossed her features.
Uncertainty was not a look that suited her. He wanted to see her relaxed and smiling in his home. “Let’s adjourn to the morning room, shall we? Mrs. Gainville, a pot of coffee and tea would be wonderful.”
“Yes, Mr. Neale, right away.” His housekeeper gave Emma a push forward and whispered, “Go on, just tell him.”
Emma nodded and replied, “Me thanks for yer ear.”
Christopher pretended not to have overheard the brief words between the two and swiveled to lead Emma out of the kitchens.
He opened the door to the sparse morning room, where he normally took his morning meal. In fact, he realized all the rooms in his house lacked the warmth of a woman’s presence. Which was highlighted by the energy that trailed Emma as she walked past him.
She walked straight for the window and peered out onto the street. No surprise; Emma had been well trained by the Network to protect its assets. He lacked the mark of a PORF but had slowly accepted the fact that the Network, which had stayed on the fringes of his life as a child, now infiltrated every aspect of his world. Unmarked, he was supposed to be oblivious to the fact his entire household staff were carefully chosen members of the Network, selected to serve and protect him in anticipation of him receiving the mark as soon as he wed. Even as a child, Christopher had noted the subtle protective nature of the Hadfield staff over its masters. And his suspicion that his family was, in fact, one of the three legendary families sworn to protect the royal family was confirmed when Theo fell in love with Lord Archbroke and confessed to having inherited the PORF family volume instead of Landon. Since then, he pretended to not know of Theo and Landon’s clandestine schemes, knowing that if either of them needed his assistance, they would simply ask. But as the months went by, it became clear neither would involve him until he officially became a PORF.
