With This Kiss by Victoria Lynne Read Free Book Online Page B

Trevlin’s predilections ran solely toward young boys.
    “That’s quite a list, princess. I had no idea I had fallen into such stellar company.”
    “Yes. Well…” She hesitated for a moment, fiddling with the soft folds of her gown. “Naturally my uncle prefers that the more favored suitors turn their attentions toward his own daughters.”
    Naturally. Good God. What had she said?
I fear my uncle does not have my best interests at heart.
That was putting it mildly. If the man was that eager to be rid of her, he would have done his niece a greater favor in tying a stone around her neck and tossing her in the Thames.
    “When one considers my alternatives,” she said, “I believe it becomes understandable as to why I would take the drastic measure of pressing my own suit this evening.”
    “Indeed.” He leaned back against the settee, a wry grin curving his lips. “Always flattering to learn that one is looked upon as a last resort.”
    “That’s not the case at all,” she protested. “The same research that led me to turning down my other suitors convinced me that you would make a tolerable husband.”
    “Indeed? And just what research was that?” he asked, genuinely curious.
    “I spoke to your servants. You’ll be happy to learn that they’re a rather closemouthed bunch. Furthermore, most of them have been in your employ for years. Loyalty of that sort is generally a sign of contentment. Short of informing me that you are not romantically engaged at present and that you were undertaking a rare visit to the Devonshire House this evening, they had very little to say.”
    “That’s good?”
    “Quite. As you might imagine, the discussions I had with the servants in the employ of the other gentlemen I mentioned were rather… stimulating.”
    Morgan barely managed to suppress a smile at her prim disapproval. “Yes,” he replied solemnly, “I would imagine so.”
    A contemplative silence fell between them. She bowed her head, her lips pursed in thought. As she moved, a strand of her incredible hair fell forward, brushing against her cheek like a silken caress. For an instant, Morgan found himself wondering what that hair would feel like tumbling against his chest, how that fiery red would look against the linen cream of his sheets. Before he could pursue that fantasy further, she looked up and softly announced, “I believe we would do well together as husband and wife.”
    “And just how did you reach that astonishing conclusion?”
    “I’m fluent in French,” she said, evidently — perhaps deliberately — misinterpreting his sarcasm for a genuine query.
    “So am I,” he replied, unimpressed.
    “I can cook.”
    “I have a cook.”
    “I’m very efficient in the managing of a household.”
    “As is my housekeeper.”
    “I have served as hostess at my father’s parties, affairs that included as many as one hundred guests. Furthermore,” she rushed on before he could comment, “I would not be a burden to you financially. As I mentioned earlier, I have a steady income from the rents on this space, and the auctioneer from Pindler and Sons has informed me that I may make as much as two hundred pounds from the sale of the furnishings. Perhaps even two hundred and fifty pounds—”
    “Can you breed?”
    “I beg your pardon.” She studied him with an expression of queenly disdain, plainly giving him an opportunity to retract his words. When he didn’t, she brought up her chin and turned away, muttering in a tone of maidenly outrage, “What a vulgar question.”
    He lifted his shoulders in an indifferent shrug. “Yours is a vulgar proposition. Besides, you’re forgetting what a man wants most when he takes a wife.”
    “Love?”
    He nearly choked on a mouthful of tea. “You neglected to mention a sense of humor while regaling me with your considerable attributes.”
    “Then I’m afraid I don’t—”
    “An heir.”
    “Oh. I hadn’t considered… that is…” Her voice faltered and