“If it is there, I know you will find it.”
His confidence in her ability pleased her more than it should have.
“From everything I have gone over to date, it would seem he did not initially have any intention of betraying you or the club. Have you any idea what may have changed?”
Roderick shook his head. “None at all. I have been unable to find out anything about the man prior to his employment here. It makes me wonder if perhaps a secret from his past caught up with him. He may have believed he had no other options.”
“That is a very forgiving attitude toward someone who may have stolen a great deal from you.”
He shrugged. “I would prefer not to believe I had been completely wrong about his character. It is not easy for me to put my trust in someone, but once I do…” His voice faded off.
“Your loyalty is admirable,” she said gently.
“I treat others only as I would wish for them to treat me.”
Her heart beat swiftly as she heard the things he did not say. She suspected he had encountered a great deal of unfair prejudice in his life. She ached for him in that moment, but he did not allow the melancholy mood to last long.
Grinning broadly, he asked, “So tell me, just how much of a dent in our profits is Clarice making with her party preparations this year?”
Emma accepted the shift in conversation gratefully and managed to give some general idea of the expenses charged for the upcoming celebration. They left the kitchen together shortly afterward with no mention at all being made regarding her presence at the Michaels’ anniversary ball.
He must not have seen her.
While that should have eased much of her tension, she found herself not so much relieved by the knowledge that her secret was still safe as she was confused by her momentary desire that he know the truth about her. No good could come of such a revelation.
And when Bishop came by her office barely an hour later to tell her she was being summoned to Mr. Bentley’s presence once again, her anxiety returned in a rush.
Bishop’s stride was long as she followed him down the hall, but she regulated her pace to a more sedate speed, forcing him to pause for her to catch up. The impudent servant gave her a wide grin as she came up beside him, but he said nothing. When Bishop marched her past the closed doors of Bentley’s office, she stopped.
“I thought Mr. Bentley had requested my presence?”
Bishop gave her another sly grin and jerked his chin upward. “He did. Bentley’s in his private apartments this time of day. That’s where we’re going.” Then he turned and started off again down the hallway.
She caught up to the footman at the end of the hall as he waited to lead her up the enclosed mahogany staircase. Carefully lifting her skirts as she ascended the stairs, she asked, “Is it common for Mr. Bentley to request meetings with his employees in his private apartments?”
“No, it’s not.” Bishop did not turn to look at her, but she heard the knowing amusement in his tone. “Practically unheard of.”
Emma had to decide whether she would balk or continue along.
Just what was she afraid of…that Bentley would actually send a footman to bring her to his bed?
Frowning at her own foolishness, she followed Bishop up the stairs. Yet, as irrational as it was, something about the idea settled into her consciousness and wouldn’t let go. It created a persistent tug in her center she could not ignore, and her insides started to feel quivery and strange.
She told herself she was being ridiculous, but the odd sensations continued.
On the next floor, the stairs opened to a casual drawing room. Sofas and chairs were arranged in multiple groupings before a large fireplace. Tables were set up with chessboards and other similar amusements.
Bishop led her across the drawing room and through some double doors on the opposite end. Traversing along another hallway, they finally stopped before a closed door and the footman turned to execute a pert knock.
At the sound of Bentley’s voice, a rush of warmth flooded Emma’s limbs, making her fingertips tingle. She stiffened her spine to counteract the reaction.
Bishop opened the door, and with a jaunty bow, he turned and walked back the way they had come. She watched his careless stride until he disappeared around the corner. Realizing she was just trying to delay an encounter that was inevitable, she took a steadying breath and walked into the room.
That she was in a small sitting room rather than a bedroom afforded her a certain amount of relief. A fire burned low in the grate and the curtains were drawn, keeping out the daylight and allowing for the softer lighting created by candlelight. Being in the room made it feel like it was late evening rather than late morning, as she knew it to be.