Clarice reached across the table at that point, and Henry enclosed her hand in his. The smiles they shared were as easy as they were intimate.
“It was quite the whirlwind romance, wasn’t it, darling?” she said with a bold wink.
Henry actually blushed as he replied, “Indeed it was, my love.” Then he shifted his gaze and offered a smile toward Emma. “I left my prior position aboard ship, and Clarice left the theater. We traveled back to England together, both of us ready to settle into more domestic circumstances. We were fortunate to find a place here.”
“And Bentley’s is fortunate to have you both,” Bentley added.
Emma dared to glance at him. The genuine affection in his expression was unmistakable. She could see he viewed Henry and Clarice not strictly as employees, but as friends. She suddenly understood his intention behind the informality he insisted upon. It helped to prevent a distancing between him and the others. He truly seemed to prefer a personal sort of relationship with those who worked for him.
“Speaking of the club,” Clarice said brightly as she rose to her feet, “I have my work to get back to.”
“As do I,” Henry declared as both men stood.
Emma would have stood as well, but Clarice put her hand on Emma’s shoulder to stop her. “No need to rise, dear. Stay and enjoy your tea. We wouldn’t want to leave Roderick sitting here all by himself, since he so rarely has an opportunity to join us.”
She couldn’t very well refuse when it was put like that, so she remained where she was while Henry and Clarice left and Roderick resumed his seat. The moment they were left alone together, something shifted in the atmosphere. Or perhaps it was something within Emma herself. She tried to think of something to say—anything to help dispel the intimate silence they had fallen into.
Sipping from her teacup, she risked a glance over the rim and nearly choked when her gaze slammed into his.
He smiled and every nerve in her body came to attention.
She set her cup back on its saucer, refusing to show her discomfort with his bold manner.
Tilting his head, he gave her a look of curiosity, and for a split second, she thought he would say something about seeing her at the ball the night before.
“Have you any plans for your day off tomorrow?” he asked. His tone was conversational and the topic was certainly innocuous, but still the question set her on edge.
“Nothing in particular,” she replied.
Surely, if he had seen her he would have been compelled to call her out on it now that it was just the two of them. Her secret was still safe, it seemed, though she had to acknowledge a small part of her was beginning to wonder just why it was so important to keep her true identity from him.
Would it be so terrible for him to know the truth about her?
The path of her thoughts was alarming.
Even if she was beginning to believe that Mr. Bentley, of all people, could be trusted to keep her secret safe.
It had not taken long to notice the way he managed his staff with patience and compassion. In fact, the qualities were inherent in his interactions with everyone. She had heard enough stories and witnessed enough examples firsthand now of both his fairness in dealing with recalcitrant club members and how he refused to allow for any biases based on a member’s background. He was generous and compassionate in all things. There was no reason to think he would be any different with her.
But things were different between the two of them. She knew it even as she did her best to deny it. There was no telling how he would react to discovering the truth about her. No way to anticipate how it would change things.
That unknown in itself was enough reason to hold her secrets close.
“Clarice seems really to be looking forward to the anniversary celebration,” she said, hoping to steer the conversation away from herself.
He chuckled as he slid his tea aside to rest his forearms on the table. “Yes, she always is, and every year she manages to outdo herself in the preparations. I have no doubt it will be a smashing event.”
“She loves this place, as does Henry. They truly see the club as their home.”
His gaze warmed and the smile he gave her made her stomach dance with a personal sort of delight.
“That is possibly one the nicest things anyone has ever said to me,” he said after a moment.
The pleasure in his tone seeped through her blood, making her skin tingle. Emma lowered her gaze lest he see the effect he had on her.
After a moment, he asked, “Are you content with your employment here, Emma?”
The sincerity in the inquiry brought her attention back to his face.
“Of course, Mr. Bentley—Roderick,” she corrected when she saw he was about to interrupt. “I am quite content, I assure you. The work has been very rewarding, though I have yet to come across any evidence of your prior bookkeeper’s deception.”