“You are abandoning us into Angelique’s keeping, then? Do you really think that is wise?”
Emma had to laugh at Portia’s dramatic take on the issue. “I will still attend events with you in the evenings, though on occasion I may not make it back in time for visiting hours. For those rare occurrences, Angelique should be able to manage the simple social task without undue confusion.”
Lily sighed then offered a smile. “Well, it seems this will be our last evening congregation. You will need your sleep if you are to stay out with us in the evening and still rise early enough to attend your new duties.”
Emma hadn’t thought of that. She would miss their nightly talks. “Yes, I suppose it would be best.”
Portia’s scowl did not budge through the rest of their questions, but she had offered no additional arguments.
Now, as Emma followed Snipes down the blue hall, all of her sisters’ concerns, plus a few more of her own, ran rampant through her mind.
The double doors of Mr. Bentley’s office were open, and the doorman raised his fist to execute a forceful knock on the frame. At the call to enter, Snipes turned and walked away without a word, leaving her to enter the room alone or remain awkwardly in the doorway. Despite the voice in her head that urged her to walk confidently into her employer’s office, she found herself standing where Snipes had left her.
Mr. Bentley sat behind his broad desk, dressed in a white shirt and gold brocade waistcoat. His muslin cravat had been loosened, and his dark hair was slightly mussed. A snifter of brandy had been set off to the side while he finished writing something in a small leather-bound book.
He looked as if he had been up all night.
Unfortunately, the appearance of being up all night was inordinately attractive on him.
Despite the polished appearance of his surroundings and the well-tailored cut of his clothes, the man possessed an air of unpredictability and an almost defiant nonconformity. He was unlike any gentleman she had ever known.
Such characteristics should have made her wary. Instead, he fascinated her.
Emma squared her shoulders and forced her breath to an even rhythm. She would have to learn quickly how to tame her reactions to this man. It would not do for her to be distracted at every turn by the simple sight of him.
Just as she felt she had herself back under control, his gaze lifted to find her in the doorway and her breath came to an abrupt stop. Goodness, what arresting eyes he had.
“Good morning, sir,” she said primly, forcing the remnants of her disquiet into hiding beneath a thick layer of self-possession.
“Mrs. Adams.” His mouth curved into an easy smile as he set his pen down. Tilting his head, he arched one eyebrow. “I trust you are well today?”
“Quite well, thank you,” she replied automatically to the casual greeting. “And you?”
He stood from behind the desk as she spoke and reached for his black evening coat where it draped over the back of his chair. Throwing her a fleeting glance, he answered her inquiry with a covert grin. “I have been infinitely better and far worse.” He lifted his coat and slid his arms into the sleeves then shrugged the garment over his broad shoulders.
Emma observed his movements with warmth rising in her cheeks. She had no idea watching a man don his coat could feel so disconcerting. Or was it his hidden smile and momentary gaze that had her insides twisting?
Get ahold of yourself, Emma.
He buttoned his coat as he crossed the room toward her. “Come with me, please.”
Emma stepped back into the hall, then paused and turned back to wait for him to indicate which way they were to go. She hadn’t expected him to be so close as he drew the double doors of his office closed behind him, or that his nearness would cause a swift thrill in her blood. Though perhaps she should have.
“While I am in my office, I prefer to keep the doors open unless there is some specific necessity for the contrary. As long as the doors are open, I encourage interruptions. However,” he added, “closed doors indicate I am not in, or I desire solitude.”
Emma noted he did not bother to turn the lock. He clearly expected the people around him to honor what the closed doors signified without requiring additional enforcement.
With a subtle tip of his head, he led her down the hall away from the stairs she had come up.
“This level of the club contains my office and those for my senior employees. My manager, Mr. Metcalf, is likely finishing up some things below. You will have an opportunity to meet him and the others later. Leeds, our butler, has an office along this hall, though he much prefers the small closet below the stairs in the main hall for his work. He does not like to wander far from his post. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Potter, also has an office on this floor. Their private quarters are located in the east wing.”