Roderick came toward her in long, swift strides. “Are you all right?”
She nodded but couldn’t speak yet, confused by the insistent despair that hit her at the sight of him. Something in her wanted so badly to release control and allow the torrent with the hope he might take her up in his arms and hold her secure while she cried.
His expression darkened as he reached her. He grasped her shoulders and peered intently into her face.
“I called your name three times as you passed my office. You are not the slightest bit all right. Tell me what is wrong.”
His strength and nearness somehow managed to bring Emma back from the emotional edge she had nearly tumbled over. She had not been so lacking in composure since the day her mother died holding her hand. Focusing on the warmth of his hands on her shoulders and the sharp glint of concern in his eyes, she managed to find her voice again.
“Nothing is wrong. Nothing that concerns you or the club.”
“Damn the club,” he muttered harshly. “I am asking about you.”
Emma stepped out from under his hands and circled around to the shelves of ledgers. She had no intention of unloading her personal problems on him, no matter how comforting he appeared. Despite what had happened in the Lovell gardens, he was her employer. She must retain their working relationship or her position at the club might not last.
Her income may not help with Hale’s loan, but it was a tether of security, the only thing keeping the Chadwicks from financial disintegration. She needed her position here.
“There is nothing to say. It is a family issue.”
She wished her voice did not sound so despondent. He would not miss such a contradiction to her words. To continue distracting from her internal upheaval, she selected a ledger from the shelf and brought it back to her desk. She could see Roderick out of the corner of her eye, standing where she had left him. She could feel his gaze following her intently.
“Are you in need of additional funds? Let me help.”
Emma set the ledger down and stood at her desk with her back to him. She closed her eyes, wishing she had not been so candid about her circumstances.
“I mean it, Emma. Tell me what you need.” His voice was low and earnest.
He had stepped up close behind her. All she had to do was lean back a little to be in his arms. She had known from that first night at the Hawksworths’ ball how perfectly she fit against him, how it felt to have his arms circle her waist and his jaw rest alongside her temple.
For a moment she considered accepting his offer. The amount of Hale’s loan would likely not even faze him. Wasn’t he one of the richest men in London? Obscene fortunes passed through his club on a nightly basis. She had seen the evidence of it herself in the members’ accounts. And that did not account for his other investments, which she was not privy to.
He was offering to help her. Earnestly and with no mitigating requirements.
Instead of leaning back against him, she turned around to face him, tipping her chin up so she could look into his face.
And her heart melted.
The muscles in his jaw were tense and his mouth was drawn into a firm line, suggesting he wished to say more. His dark eyebrows pulled down over his eyes. The concentration of his gaze shot straight through her, making her knees wobble.
It was the weakness he drew from her that convinced her to refuse his offer. She had too much pride. Too much fear in allowing someone to step in and claim control in even such an impersonal way. She could not be beholden to him, or anyone. Not when she had no idea if she would ever be able to pay him back.
It would be no different from what her father did in accepting the loan from Mr. Hale.
As soon as she thought it, she took it back.
Accepting a loan from Roderick would be very different. Still, it was not something she could do. Her struggles were not for him to take on. She would succeed or fail on her own devices.
She dug deep to find a smile, forcing a lightness to her tone as she replied.
“Mr. Bentley, your offer is appreciated, but I assure you it is unnecessary. It has been a rough morning, and I am afraid I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. All is well.”
He relaxed his gaze, though his focus never wavered from her face. The tension along his jaw refused to ease, though the lines in his forehead slowly smoothed away. He looked at her, without moving or saying a word. His gaze was so direct, she felt it through every cell of her body.
It was difficult to retain control beneath such intimate perusal. Her stomach started to flutter and her skin warmed by degrees. His focus reached past her defenses, forcing her to acknowledge a vulnerability buried deep within that she thought she’d eradicated. And she realized it was not something arising in just this moment. It had been present long before she met him. She had just refused to face it.