Lord Langley Is Back in Town by Elizabeth Boyle Read Free Book Online Page B

me guess what you would suggest: that I take a wife and remove myself to the country for the remainder of my days. Would that dull prospect make me respectable?”
    “If that is what it takes to get you and your . . .”
    “Former nannies?” he offered.
    “Companions,” she corrected, “and yes, if that is what it takes to get all of you out of my house, then please take a wife. I’d say my house is overflowing with likely and overly willing candidates.”
    Langley paused, a shiver running down his spine, her suggestion jumbling about with Thomas-William’s grumbled complaints.
    Hiding . . . Out in the open . . . Take a wife . . .
    The door shuddered again, and he realized he had barely enough time to hatch his plan. But leap into it he would, starting with shrugging off his jacket.
    Lady Standon gaped at him. “Whatever are you doing?”
    “Taking your advice.” Flinging his jacket in one direction, he plucked off his cravat with one hand while the other flipped open the buttons on his waistcoat.
    She eyed him with open horror. “You’re mad! I never told you to disrobe!” Then realizing that her voice was rising, she gasped and lowered her register.
    Having added his cravat and waistcoat to the pile, he opened up his shirt a bit and stalked across the room, catching her in his arms. “No, you didn’t.”
    Caught unawares, the pistol fell from her grasp. Then Lady Standon began to struggle, her fists pounding at his chest. “I certainly didn’t tell you to accost me either!”
    “No, madame, you didn’t.”
    A loud crash left the hinges groaning their last. One more good hit and—
    “Then whatever are you doing?” she gasped, having stilled for a second.
    “Exactly what you told me to do. Taking a wife.”
    And as the door crashed open, he sealed his proposal with a kiss.

Chapter 3
     
A man will only propose when thoroughly cornered.
Advice to Felicity Langley from her Nanny Lucia
     
    M inerva had no idea what it was Langley was about to do until his lips captured hers and his arms wound tight around her.
    There was no escape from his trap—for quite frankly, she was trying like the very devil. Her hands on his shoulders balled into fists and pummeled at him, all to no avail, for the wretched scoundrel had her exactly where he wanted.
    A collective gasp rose up as the door swung open to reveal his neatly staged tableaux. A perfect scene of uninhibited seduction, his lips covering hers, his hands cradling her in his steely grasp, the rakish lines of his body entwined with hers.
    As if they cared not that the entire household was witness to their passions.
    When Minerva tried to twist free, he added to his deception by dipping her back, so her body arched into his and it appeared to all that he was devouring her, for in truth he was—his hands roaming over her back, along her spine, teasing her, touching her, as if he could not get enough of her . . . which made her struggles appear more like . . .
    Oh, heavens, she didn’t want to think about how she appeared, not when she was more worried about how it actually felt.
    For as shocking as it was, the words “delicious torment” seemed to have found a new place in her vocabulary.
    “Langley! Whatever are you doing to her?” Nanny Lucia said in a high-pitched voice that verged on a horrified shriek.
    That was the question Minerva wanted to ask—that is, if she could have managed—but right at that moment her lips were occupied, and unfortunately she was having trouble breathing.
    Having trouble thinking.
    For traitorously, seductively, and eloquently, this wretched, practiced rake was plying his trade over her like a maestro might roam a bow over a violin.
    And yes, her strings were trembling. Vibrating with a music that begged one to listen, to move, to respond.
    How could she not? What with her breasts pressed to his chest, his hand cupping her . . . her . . . good heavens, her backside, and his lips, oh, those lips, plying