Read Online Like No Other Lover by Julie Anne Long - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie Anne Long
Ads: Link
amiss. Mention dogs.”
He snapped his head back toward her with predatory swiftness.
Just in time, she knew, to see the astonishment and hope and hunger fleeing her face.
Bloody man .
This— this —was precisely the sort of thing she needed desperately to know. How much easier her task would be if she was armed with this kind of information.
They both watched Lord Milthorpe cast the china cup a wistful glance, as if he knew he was bound to crush it eventually and was issuing a silent advance apology.
“When was the last time you blushed, Miss Brightly?” Miles asked suddenly, sounding genuinely curious.
“Blushing,” she was snappish with nerves now, “is the province of naive fools.”
His brow furrowed and he nodded as though she’d said something Socratic.
She desperately wanted something to do with her hands, and cursed the fact that she’d left her own cup of tea atop one of those tiny shining tables, well out of reach. Across that thick, languidly patterned, aristocratic carpet was another small world, a world where Violet Redmond was laughing gaily about something unimportant, where the worthy-of-Miles-Redmond Lady Georgina sat looking untouched and demure, where Lady Middlebough, for some reason, was watching Miles Redmond with big dark eyes.
And where a smoldering-eyed, golden-haired man was pretending not to look at Cynthia. Lord Argosy.
Ah! Her interest perked up. She wondered what Miles knew about him .
Bloody hell.
She returned her gaze to her tormentor. Who looked intolerably amused. He’d seen the direction of her attention.
“I do not want to kiss you, Mr. Redmond.” She was appalled to hear her voice had gone threadbare.
“But I think you will kiss me anyway.”
More of that soft, secretly amused, bloody, bloody confidence.
Walk away, she told herself.
Unfortunately, her feet and her brain were not in communication at present.
She looked up at him wearing a mask of a social smile. Eyes, spectacles, nose, mouth, height: the sum of his appearance meant that in another circumstance she would not have given Miles Redmond another glance. But this, too, she realized now, had everything to do with his self-possession. She understood now that if one did not notice Miles Redmond, it was simply because he did not wish to be noticed.
“I can give you such a list for every man in this room, Miss Brightly. Just imagine the use someone like you could put it to.” He was still diabolically, quietly cheerful. “It seems like such a waste not to share it. I’ve stated my price for it. Nod your assent and we shall seal our bargain straight away. Shake your head, and I shall abandon it altogether, and wish you happy hunting.”
Cynthia’s heart was kicking painfully now. Her mouth had gone dry.
One kiss. One kiss could help her secure her entire future, or permanently shatter her reputation if the man could not be trusted to stay quiet about it. She thought of her slim purse upstairs, and the angry woman in the bath chair in Northumberland, and her own pride, which refused to accept the idea of a post in Northumberland or to abandon the idea of a grand marriage.
Miles took one small, impatient, warning step away from her.
She had promised herself she would be good. She would not foment mischief when brilliant opportunities for mischief arose. She would be very careful not to encourage men to shoot each other over her. She’d promised herself she would no longer gamble with her future, regardless of past successes, as she had so very little left to gamble with. Literally and figuratively.
But was it her fault if gambles continually found her ?
Don’t do it. Don’t do it .
She sealed her fate with a duck of her head.
“Alcove,” he said instantly. The word was a low command. And he turned and melted from the room.
Well, then.
His large frame rounded the corner, which she knew opened onto a hallway off which lay other rooms.
So smooth had been his departure, no heads turned to
He snapped his head back toward her with predatory swiftness.
Just in time, she knew, to see the astonishment and hope and hunger fleeing her face.
Bloody man .
This— this —was precisely the sort of thing she needed desperately to know. How much easier her task would be if she was armed with this kind of information.
They both watched Lord Milthorpe cast the china cup a wistful glance, as if he knew he was bound to crush it eventually and was issuing a silent advance apology.
“When was the last time you blushed, Miss Brightly?” Miles asked suddenly, sounding genuinely curious.
“Blushing,” she was snappish with nerves now, “is the province of naive fools.”
His brow furrowed and he nodded as though she’d said something Socratic.
She desperately wanted something to do with her hands, and cursed the fact that she’d left her own cup of tea atop one of those tiny shining tables, well out of reach. Across that thick, languidly patterned, aristocratic carpet was another small world, a world where Violet Redmond was laughing gaily about something unimportant, where the worthy-of-Miles-Redmond Lady Georgina sat looking untouched and demure, where Lady Middlebough, for some reason, was watching Miles Redmond with big dark eyes.
And where a smoldering-eyed, golden-haired man was pretending not to look at Cynthia. Lord Argosy.
Ah! Her interest perked up. She wondered what Miles knew about him .
Bloody hell.
She returned her gaze to her tormentor. Who looked intolerably amused. He’d seen the direction of her attention.
“I do not want to kiss you, Mr. Redmond.” She was appalled to hear her voice had gone threadbare.
“But I think you will kiss me anyway.”
More of that soft, secretly amused, bloody, bloody confidence.
Walk away, she told herself.
Unfortunately, her feet and her brain were not in communication at present.
She looked up at him wearing a mask of a social smile. Eyes, spectacles, nose, mouth, height: the sum of his appearance meant that in another circumstance she would not have given Miles Redmond another glance. But this, too, she realized now, had everything to do with his self-possession. She understood now that if one did not notice Miles Redmond, it was simply because he did not wish to be noticed.
“I can give you such a list for every man in this room, Miss Brightly. Just imagine the use someone like you could put it to.” He was still diabolically, quietly cheerful. “It seems like such a waste not to share it. I’ve stated my price for it. Nod your assent and we shall seal our bargain straight away. Shake your head, and I shall abandon it altogether, and wish you happy hunting.”
Cynthia’s heart was kicking painfully now. Her mouth had gone dry.
One kiss. One kiss could help her secure her entire future, or permanently shatter her reputation if the man could not be trusted to stay quiet about it. She thought of her slim purse upstairs, and the angry woman in the bath chair in Northumberland, and her own pride, which refused to accept the idea of a post in Northumberland or to abandon the idea of a grand marriage.
Miles took one small, impatient, warning step away from her.
She had promised herself she would be good. She would not foment mischief when brilliant opportunities for mischief arose. She would be very careful not to encourage men to shoot each other over her. She’d promised herself she would no longer gamble with her future, regardless of past successes, as she had so very little left to gamble with. Literally and figuratively.
But was it her fault if gambles continually found her ?
Don’t do it. Don’t do it .
She sealed her fate with a duck of her head.
“Alcove,” he said instantly. The word was a low command. And he turned and melted from the room.
Well, then.
His large frame rounded the corner, which she knew opened onto a hallway off which lay other rooms.
So smooth had been his departure, no heads turned to
Similar Books
It's Always Darkest Before the Fridge Door Opens: Enjoying the Fruits of Middle Age
Phil Callaway, Martha O. Bolton
