Meet My Love at Midnight (Midnight Meetings Book 5) by Gina Conkle

Author:Gina Conkle [Conkle, Gina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NYLA
Published: 2018-03-04T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR

Mr. Emerson’s face was a fierce study in scowling. Hazel-green eyes narrowed. His jaw flexed under a day’s growth of auburn whiskers. If she had a fan with her, she’d use it to cool her cheeks…or fan the flames sparking from the thief taker’s eyes.

“Allow me to explain,” she began.

“Please do, milady.”

He set a fist on his hip, and for the first time, she saw him. Really saw him. Scuffed boots. Black wool breeches mended in two places. An ill-fitting black coat. And a forest green waistcoat hugging a trim mid-section. Jack Emerson dressed like an upper servant on his half day. None could accuse him of foppery. Though his shoulders were broad, he was more lean-framed than bulky. A man always on the move.

When he wanted the truth, he spoke less. When he wanted others comfortable, he spoke more. A gentle humor. The kind one found in a smart but unassuming gentleman.

And he made her heart flutter.

She swallowed the dry lump forming in her throat. “I meant a trade of sorts.”

“What kind of trade?” His scowl deepened.

Though the hour was late, more young Ryland nieces scurried through the entry hall, their braids flying. Heels clicked fast. Dancing started in the ballroom.

She met his gaze with a level one of her own. “You may ask me anything you want—”

“As in your family in Queenhithe?”

“—as in anything you want, and I shall answer.”

His jaw ticked faster. “Truthfully?”

Nothing stripped a woman better than the truth. It freed her. Left her shaky but stronger for it.

“Dance with me, and I will answer truthfully.”

“I don’t dance,” he ground out. “I thought you understood that.”

She cast a glance down the hallway past the kitchens. Ryland’s study and the family library were down that hallway. “I could teach you. One dance.”

His balled-up hand on his hip tightened. The knuckles turned white. Brilliant chandeliers showed his tiredness. He’d worked all day while she and others like her reclined in luxury. What was she thinking? He must want his home, to remove his boots, put his feet up before a fire, and—

“I’ll do it.” Emerson grabbed her elbow, his long stride leading them to the quiet end of Ryland House.

She trotted to keep up. They whisked past the dining room, past the hallway leading to the kitchen, past two ferns on tall pedestals meant to discourage party-goers from venturing down this hall. Emerson’s profile was a stoic line against beige walls. Overhead lush murals of pastoral bliss covered ceiling panels, creating a wonderland of elegance. Evergreen boughs decorated ledges in this empty section. Red bows had been tied to the chandeliers. Mistletoe dangled from one of them.

Mr. Emerson stopped underneath it, his mouth a hard line. “Start the dance lessons.”

He was not in the kissing mood.

She smoothed her skirts. The stoic thief taker was with her. Not the sensual flirt. It would take some work to lure him out again, but feminine intuition told her he was just under the surface.

“Very well. We’ll start with an allemande.” She stepped beside him.

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