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

deliberate, cat-like way of hers. “Yes, none of us are fools, darling. We know all your tricks .”
    Minerva suspected the lady didn’t mean just his legendary diplomatic prowess.
    Knuddles growled from his post in Nanny Brigid’s arms. The lady ran her fingers over the mane of black hair that surrounded the little dog’s monkey-like face. “If you think we will leave because you claim to love her, you are quite mistaken.”
    “Then stay for our wedding and see for yourself,” he told them. “I insist.”
    I n one of the small, private parlors of White’s, Lord Chudley had been spending a quiet evening reading his paper. Far more enjoyable than escorting Bedelia and her niece to some soiree or musical or whatever it was she’d been nattering on about over their tea this afternoon.
    Bless her heart, he did love his wife, but Bedelia was a busybody by nature, the sort who could cannonade a fleet of American privateers with her forthrightness.
    So he’d learned quickly that occasionally he was “utterly needed at his club.”
    And good wife that she was, she understood and took no offense.
    Even so, his respite was interrupted when two fellows came into the room, sharing a whispered exchange that spoke of deceit, and so Chudley watched them through softly shuttered lashes feigning a nap. His high-backed chair was turned slightly toward the fireplace, so the pair didn’t see him immediately, that is until they came deep enough into the room.
    “Sir Basil—” one of them said, nodding toward where Chudley lounged, looking for all intents like a slumbering old gallant.
    “Never mind him,” Sir Basil declared. “I daresay even if he were awake, at his age he’s as deaf as a post.”
    Now if Chudley had been a more arrogant sort he would have taken this young pup to task for such cheek.
    Deaf as a post, indeed! He wasn’t that old, and considering he’d just married his fourth wife, and had no trouble keeping her blissfully happy, he’d like to announce that he was as spry as a goat—they could only wish for such good fortune at his age.
    But Chudley hadn’t spent his early years working for the Foreign Office not to know that arrogance and a lofty regard for one’s manhood had no place in this world.
    That, and he still kept abreast of things in the old office, and he’d never once heard a good word said about this upstart Sir Basil. And from the shady looks of the company he was keeping, Chudley had no doubts the pair of them were into something they weren’t willing to discuss at Whitehall.
    And if that was the case, his curiosity outweighed a slight about his hearing and age.
    But demmit, who was that other fellow? He looked vaguely familiar.
    “We have a problem,” Sir Basil was saying.
    “What is it now, Brownie?” the man replied, glancing down at his fingernails. “You always have a problem. And they never amount to the drama that you insist on adding to them.”
    “You’ll think differently when I tell you.”
    “Then get on with it,” the other man said. “Tibballs is downstairs, utterly foxed and in the mood for a few hands of loo. And in a few hands I’ll have emptied his pockets.”
    “You won’t have pockets to fill when you find out who is back in Town.”
    The shake to Sir Basil’s voice almost prodded Chudley to open his eyes and give the man a level examination.
    “Good God, man, get this over with,” the other fellow said, sounding all-too-bored and having taken no note of the fearful tremor to Sir Basil’s voice.
    “Langley,” Sir Basil said in a deadly still whisper.
    Chudley’s breath froze in his throat and he wondered if perhaps his hearing wasn’t up to snuff, for he would have sworn he heard the man say—
    “Langley?” The man laughed. “Demmit, Basil, when did you start believing in ghosts? Langley is dead. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
    There was the thud of boots as the man went to leave, but his departure came to a halt as Sir Basil continued,