Read Online The Further Observations of Lady Whistledown (Lady W 1) by Julia Quinn - Free Book Online Page A

can wear. I won’t have you dying and everyone blaming me.”
    “Fine.” His shivering wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t dig a sovereign out of his coat pocket and pitch it to the hack driver, but neither was he faking a chill.
    Lambert didn’t appear at the door as they reached it, and Anne belatedly remembered that it was Thursday, the staff’s weekly afternoon off. “Drat,” she muttered, fishing in her reticule for a key and doubly grateful that Halfurst had recovered the bag for her.
    “What is it?”
    “Nothing. No one’s home.”
    “Ah.”
    A low shiver went down her spine, one that had nothing to do with the cold. She’d never spent this much time alone with a man, and to have this large, muscular one in the house was foolhardy, to say the least. The hack was gone, though, and as she’d said, she couldn’t allow him to walk home through the snow. “Whatever the circumstances,” she said, as much for her own benefit as for his, “you are cold and wet, and you became that way because of me.”
    “I’m not protesting,” he said in his low drawl, following her into the foyer. “I just want to be certain that one of us isn’t delirious.”
    That would explain her actions, anyway. “My father’s rooms are this way,” she said, heading for the stairs.
    His hand slipped down her arm to grip her fingers. “No one’s home?” he asked, pulling her back toward him. “You’re certain?”
    Slowly he drew her closer. Leaning up on her toes, she met his mouth in a hot, hard kiss. Compared to this, his kisses of greeting had been chaste. Anne wound her hands into his lapels, and reality in the form of cold, wet beer crashed down on her.
    “Ew.”
    Maximilian looked down at her, his expression amused and his eyes warm. “I usually don’t get that reaction.”
    “You still need to change clothes. I don’t know how you can stand being so cold and wet.”
    “I barely noticed.”
    He would have caught her in his arms again, but she dodged backward. “The spare bedchamber’s right there. I’ll fetch something for you to wear.”
    For a moment she was concerned that the fireplace in the spare room wouldn’t be lit. Her sheep farmer, however, knew how to amend that.
    Anne paused in her rummaging for a clean shirt. Her sheep farmer? Where had that come from?
    “Well, someone has to watch over him here in London,” she muttered, not believing it even as she said it. Maximilian Trent, despite—or perhaps because of—his preference for Yorkshire, was quite probably the most capable man she’d ever met.
    She grabbed a shirt, trousers, a waistcoat, jacket, and cravat, none of them her father’s best. This was, after all, an emergency. She hoped Maximilian wouldn’t require anything further.
    “Here you go,” she said in a loud voice, pushing open the half-closed door. She didn’t expect to find him naked, of course, but one never knew.
    To her vast disappointment he was still fully clothed, even still wrapped in his caped greatcoat, as he squatted before the fireplace with outstretched hands.
    “Get out of that coat, for heaven’s sake!” she ordered, dumping the clothes on a chair.
    He straightened again, grasping the mantel to pull himself up. “I tried,” he said, his expression almost sheepish. “My hands were shaking too much.”
    It seemed an obvious ploy, but as he rubbed his hands together his whole body gave a shudder. “You truly are cold, aren’t you?”
    “I’m bloody freezing,” he answered, shivering again. “I didn’t realize it until I nearly burned myself with the tinder and didn’t even notice.” He gazed at her for several seconds, then cleared his throat. “I did get the fire started. Give me a few moments, and I’ll be fine.”
    “I’ll help,” she decided, coming forward. He needed assistance, and besides, she really wanted to touch him. Not just his jacket or his shirt, but the smooth skin beneath.
    “That’s not necess—”
    “Stand still,” she