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Luck Is No Lady(32)

By:Amy Sandas


A sudden sinking feeling weighed down Emma’s steps. She was nearly even with the doors when they swung open and a young woman dressed in an emerald-green silk gown spilled out into the hall. The woman immediately turned back to face Mr. Bentley as he followed her from the room, but not before Emma noticed the cosmetics coloring her face and that her bosom was threatening to leap from the top of her meager bodice.

“Oh, Mr. Bentley,” the girl gushed as she stepped toward him to place her hand on the center of his chest. Her copper-colored ringlets bounced against her bare shoulders as she looked up at him. Emma imagined the young woman’s expression matched the worshipful tone in her voice. “I’m ever so grateful for this chance. I’ll prove myself worthy, I swear it.”

Bentley smiled as he settled his hands on the woman’s shoulders. “I do not doubt it,” he said in a warm and soothing voice. “Now, you should head off to your rooms. You have had a long night and will need your rest before we meet again.”

The girl bobbed a quick curtsy, sending her ringlets bouncing again. And then, seemingly unable to resist the impulse, she threw her arms around Bentley’s neck in an enthusiastic embrace. “Thank you, sir.”

Emma felt a strange twisting in her stomach when she saw his hands come up to smooth along the length of the woman’s back before he grasped her waist to set her away from him. His chuckle was deep as he replied, “I will make the arrangements with Mrs. Beaumont. You have nothing to worry about.”

Just as he finished speaking, he shifted his gaze toward Emma standing foolishly in the hall, watching them. The easy smile he had displayed while conversing with the girl in green silk slid away, and his eyes flickered as his attention focused intently on her.

Feeling a blush of embarrassment warming her cheeks at having witnessed what was obviously a private discussion, and not knowing what else to do, Emma muttered a quick “Good morning” then turned to rush down the hall to her office.

Closing the door behind her, she efficiently removed her bonnet and pelisse, not even realizing she held her bottom lip hard between her teeth. Only when she sat down at her desk and took a long breath did she acknowledge how distressing it had been to witness the intimate scene between Mr. Bentley and the young woman.

Emma took a few more breaths and reminded herself that this world was nothing like what she was used to. Of course a virile and handsome man like Mr. Bentley would have a desire for female companionship, and it made sense he would choose one of the women from the west wing to satisfy his…physical needs. That they would be so open about it was probably because they were accustomed to such activities. Mrs. Beaumont’s girls mingled with Bentley’s guests on a nightly basis. And apparently, with Bentley himself…in his office.

Her stomach twisted with a raw sort of ache.

She propped her elbows on her desk and dropped her face into her hands. She couldn’t possibly be jealous. It was ridiculous even to consider it.

She was shocked. That was all. Of course the ton was rife with love affairs, with most occurring between couples married to other people. But it was all conducted quite discreetly. One rarely knew anything beyond gossiped speculation. Certainly, you would not come upon lovers in blatant display of their relationship.

Her stomach gave another sharp twist.

Yes. She had been surprised. But things were different here. She would have to accustom herself to such things.

A sharp knock sounded at the door, and Emma jumped to her feet. Anxiety made her muscles tighten.

The knock came again, followed this time by the rich sound of Mr. Bentley’s voice.

“Excuse me, Emma, do you have a moment?”

Emma would have loved to refuse, but she didn’t.

Because she was a sensible woman.

She strode to the door, telling herself she was fully capable of behaving as though she had not just witnessed her employer rendezvousing with a prostitute. She opened her door but did not step aside. She remained in the doorway to give the impression that she expected the interruption to be brief.

The sight of Mr. Bentley’s elegant form and the direct focus of his blue eyes dazed her for a moment. He was again dressed in evening wear, though his waistcoat was of a rich emerald green this day. A shadowed growth of beard was beginning to darken his jaw, and weariness pulled at the corners of his mouth. The handsomeness of his subtle dishevelment nearly distracted from the minute hint of curiosity she detected in the low pull of his brow.

Emma had to consciously catch her breath before she could speak. “Good morning, sir.”

He tilted his head. Her subtle refusal to allow him entrance to her office had not gone unnoticed.