Page 39 of Tempting a Gentleman
Staring at the closed door, Christopher wondered who “they” were. How many elders would he be facing?
Rutherford’s booming voice came from the back of the shop. “Mr. Neale, I’d be much obliged if you would lock the door and turn the sign for me. We have been expecting you.”
Christopher wasn’t surprised that the old jeweler was a member of the Network Council. His store sign over the door displayed a rather intricate design of a harped angel—only slightly less elaborate than the one that adorned Emma’s shop sign.
Rutherford continued, “We’ll be with you in a moment. Might I suggest you peruse the cabinets at your leisure? I’m certain there is a ring that would suit.”
Though he’d peered into each glass case , none of the wedding bands encapsulated Emma’s unique personality. He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved the half-size pencil and parchment he always carried. He’d sketch a wedding band that would reflect his feelings for Emma. Instead of outlining a design, he found himself jotting down words.
Trust
Passion
Life
Yours
Forever.
A posy ring was the answer. If he was correct, Emma would prefer a plain gold band with a special inscription for her eyes only. He was no poet. He needed to choose the words wisely—but which ones would best convey his commitment and love for her?
Tapping the pencil against his lips, he bemoaned the limited vocabulary of a barrister when it came to feelings. From the corner of his eye, he caught Rutherford spying on him.
Tucking the pencil and parchment back into his jacket, Christopher turned to face the jeweler. “Rutherford. How long would it take for you to fashion a posy ring?”
“A gold band, no outer design with five or fewer words engraved, would take a few hours.” Rutherford reached into a cabinet behind the counter and withdrew a tray of rings in various sizes and widths. The old man expertly palmed a few testing weights and sizes about his forefinger. After evaluating six or so, he selected one and handed it over to Christopher. “’Tis the one.”
It was small and narrow, with little room for a message. “Five words, you say.”
“Aye. Will that be an issue, sir?”
“No. Shall I provide them now or after our meeting?”
“After.” Rutherford grinned and turned to lead him to the back room.
Christopher’s stomach knotted. Unprepared for whom he was about to meet, he wasn’t able to mask his surprise at being greeted by Emma’s mother. If Mrs. Lennox was a council member, then Emma was a highly ranked member of the Network. Christopher inwardly groaned as Bronwyn’s father, Cadby, came out from the shadows and stood behind Mrs. Lennox.
Lord Waterford appeared next and stood to the right of Mrs. Lennox. “Christopher, welcome. Due to the importance of the matter to be discussed, the council deemed it necessary to convene at this rather odd hour. However, that precludes two members who are currently at work. Both have proxied their votes to Mrs. Lennox.”
“I apologize for the inconvenience. I’d be willing to return at a more convenient time if it would be preferred.”
Mrs. Lennox stepped forward. “Ye’re not to see Emma unless terms have been agreed to.” The woman moved to sit at the head of the table, motioning Christopher to be seated to her right.
He slid into the chair, and the others took their seats. Lord Waterford, the only familiar friendly face, sat opposite him.
Hands clasped resting on the table, Mrs. Lennox calmly said, “Ye shall arrange to have the banns read at our parish, not yers. Fer the next three weeks, ye’re to dine with our family on Wednesdays. And no more sneakin’ about at night; ye’ll court me Emma proper.”
Christopher released a sigh of relief. As far as demands went, the ones made so far were easy to fulfill. Except he found Mrs. Lennox's stipulation to dine with Emma’s family for only three weeks peculiar.
Before he could utter his agreement to the requests, Lord Waterford added, “The council also respectfully requests you see to it that Emma agrees to limit her services to only those listed.” He pushed a piece of paper towards Christopher.
Christopher scanned the features of the members of the council. Not one of them appeared happy with the request, but all seemed resolved. He looked to Mrs. Lennox. “Emma’s shop is everything to her. It should be hers to run as she pleases. I understand as a husband, I’d legally have the right to make such an absurd demand, but…it will be impossible to do as you ask without hurting Emma.”
Mrs. Lennox stiffened in her seat, and her brows swooped down into a fierce frown. “You will have to figure out a way.”
He was willing to do anything to secure their consent, but to agree to Emma relinquishing control over her shop was like asking him to give up the firm. The demand was unthinkable.
Lord Waterford cleared his throat. “We humblyrequestthat you, as a member of the Hadfield line, seek your brother’s permission for you and Emma to escort a contingent of Network members to America. Our intent is that they will remain and establish a base there so we may fulfill our duty to support all PORFs. It will allow you to take Emma on an adventure and, allow time for the two of you to adjust to your new roles.”
