Page 30 of Tempting a Gentleman
They left the office, and Weathersbee’s coach rolled to a stop out front. Before entering the vehicle, Christopher scanned his surroundings and nodded to his Network guards. They were never fond of changes in his routine. Christopher had already determined he was no longer happy with his decision to remain apart from Emma. But first, he’d fortify his nerves with a brandy and a beefsteak from Brooks’s.
* * *
Weathersbee speareda potato and raised his fork to his mouth. “You seem rather distracted this eve.”
“I apologize. My mind is a whirl at present.” Christopher had crafted a number of phrases he wished to share with Emma, but none seemed appropriate nor adequate. “My thanks for the invitation to supper.” His half-eaten beefsteak no longer held its initial appeal. In fact, his stomach was clenched tight in knots at the prospect of seeing Emma again.
“Perhaps I could assist. After all, I am in your employ to do such.”
“The issue is of a personal nature, not one related to Neale & Sons.”
The man’s brows lowered. “Ah. I see this has to do with a woman. Having never married, I do not claim to have any idea how to deal with the creatures.” Weathersbee took another bite of his meal. He took his time chewing and swallowing before he continued, “However, it is my humble opinion that a man should brave rejection and hurt rather than be left to wonder if his regard might have been returned by the woman he loves.”
“So, you braved rejection and have remained unmarried.”
“No. I was a coward. I feared my lady love’s rebuff, and by the time I garnered enough courage to ask for her hand, she’d already chosen another.” Weathersbee placed both knife and fork down and grabbed for his glass of brandy. Leaning back in his chair, he added, “Don’t dither, Mr. Neale. Go seek the woman you love.” He raised his glass to his lips, but over the rim of the glass, the old man’s gaze never left Christopher.
He shouldn’t pry into the man’s private affairs, but the question rolled off Christopher’s tongue. “Why did you not marry another?” Damnation. The flash of pain in the old man’s eyes was precisely what Christopher wished to avoid.
“There was no other for me.” He downed the remainder of his drink and placed the glass upon the table. The blaze of the fire and the three candles upon the table provided more than sufficient lighting for Christopher to study Weathersbee’s features as they transformed from relaxed to tortured to resolved before he said, “Regardless of the number of days, months, or years that have passed, there hasn’t been another woman’s image who invades my thoughts day and night.”
Blast it all. From the moment she blazed right past him on his brother’s front steps, there hadn’t been a day Christopher hadn’t thought of Emma. “I shall heed your advice, Weathersbee. No more dawdling.”
“You are a good and honorable man, Mr. Neale. Far more perceptive than I’d given you credit for.” The footman had refilled his glass, and Weathersbee rose it in salute. “The woman would be a fool not to return your affection.”
Striding out the private dining room of the gentlemen’s club, Christopher glanced about at the number of men littered about in chairs, partaking in idle chatter with a drink in their hands. Why did they remain here and not return home to their women? Recognizing a few of the lords as he passed them on his way to the front door, Christopher sighed. These gentlemen had wed out of duty rather than for love. None of them possessed that innate aura of pleasure and satisfaction which emanated from Landon and his married set. Under his breath, Christopher mumbled, “I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake as Weathersbee.”
Launching himself into the night air, he hailed down a hack. “Eastside, sir. Ms. Lennox’s establishment.”
The driver nodded, and Christopher bounded into the vehicle. Relief that he was finally on his way to see Emma was slowly replaced with apprehension. There had been whispers at the office of her restricting visitors to family and clients. He was neither family nor a client.
His head lolled forward as he placed elbows upon his knees and clasped his hands together. He’d been an utter dolt for stating he’d leave her be. If the office gossip of her eyes being red and puffy was true, he’d beg her forgiveness for causing her to hurt. He wanted the opportunity to make things right.
The hack rolled to a stop. Jumping out of the vehicle, he flipped a crown up to the driver.
His greatest fear became a reality as Simon, one of Emma’s guards, approached and said, “She’s not at the shop.”
He must have heard wrong. “It’s one in the morn. Surely Emma is safely asleep in bed.”
The blasted footman simply stared at him and shrugged. At another step towards Emma’s shop, Simon shifted and blocked Christopher. “I assure ye, sir, she’s not abed yet.”
“Where is she then?”
“I can’t tell ye. Would ye like fer me to hail ye another hack?”
Christopher shook his head and turned to begin the trek back across town to his townhouse.
Damnation. Where the hell was Emma?
Chapter Fifteen
Agust of wind pushed at Emma’s back, forcing her to reach for the nearest solid tree trunk.
Blimey, it was cold. She tugged her cloak tighter about her. Glancing about, Emma searched the tree line for signs of Christopher’s night watchman. She needed to time her approach with the change in guard. If she was caught, the Network would be abuzz. Gossip Christopher nor Emma could afford. Scanning the sky, Emma located the three-quarter moon set low to the south. Blast! She’d missed her chance—it was well past the midnight hour. Even after employing all the counterargument tactics Bronwyn had taught her, Emma couldn’t convince Sebastian to alter his will. The man was a stubborn mule. Narrowing her eyes to locate the men on patrol, Emma slowed her breathing. She’d have to outsmart the Network guards.
Hugging the shadows, she crept through the gardens, bobbing and weaving around the neatly manicured hedges. She approached the back terrace, pebbles crunching beneath her slippers. She froze and scanned the area once more for the bloomin’ guard. Two large black blurs moved fast in her direction. She picked up a stone no bigger than a small apple, and she threw it as far as she could in front of her. Emma dashed back to sneak down the stairs to the kitchen doors. Heart racing, Emma slipped through the entrance and rested her throbbing forehead against the inside kitchen wall.That was too bleedin’ close.
She needed to see Christopher, regardless of whether he wished to see her. For four blasted days, she’d waited and wished Christopher would change his mind and come seek her out. But oh no, ever the gentleman, the man had kept his bloomin’ word.
