Read Loretta Chase - The Devil's Delilah for Free Online Page B

look up. He ought to have looked up at least once in the past twenty-four hours. She had not needed Lord Berne's lyrical compliments last night to be assured that her new amber gown became her. Even this simple sprigged muslin fit her to perfection, and it had cost Papa a substantial sum. Mr. Langdon might at least show some aesthetic interest.
    What on earth was so fascinating about that stupid book? She crept noiselessly to his chair and glanced down over his shoulder at the volume that lay open on his lap. Then she gasped.
    Mr. Langdon came abruptly to attention. "Miss Desmond," he began, but the look on her face stopped him.
    "You!" she cried. "You — you beast !"
    "Miss Desmond — "
    "Don't you speak to me, you wretched man. How dare you?"
    "I — I beg your pardon?" said Mr. Langdon, much taken aback. Bent over him was a flushed, furious, and blindingly beautiful countenance whose wrath seemed to set the very air throbbing. Certainly it had his senses reeling.
    "A sneak. A horrid, sneaking thief. And I felt sorry for you. Oh, I wish Papa had killed you. No, I wish I had done it myself." Her hand went to the neckline of her frock, then halted.
    It dawned on Mr. Langdon that he was for some unaccountable reason in very real danger. The gesture had puzzled him only for an instant, until he'd guessed that she'd gone for her pistol, which, luckily for him, was not at present upon her person.
    Quickly he stood up, the volume clutched under his arm.
    "Miss Desmond, you are distressed. Shall I — "
    "Distressed?" she echoed wrathfully. "You have stolen my father's manuscript and sit here coolly reading it, when anyone might come in and — and — " She paused. "Good Lord, are you mad?"
    "I am not mad, Miss Desmond," he said in the soothing tones usually reserved for sufferers of delirium. "I fear, however, that you are hysterical. This volume belongs to your father?"
    "No," she snapped. "It is the property of the Archbishop of York. Of course it's my papa's. Surely you noticed that the pages are handwritten — that it is a manuscript, in fact — that it is my father's?"
    "Yes, I noticed all that."
    "Well?"
    "I also could hardly fail to notice that it was here on the shelves with the rest of our host's collection. I assumed your father had given it to Lord Street-ham. My own collection contains some unpublished efforts by friends — though I must say this is far more worthy of publication."
    The angry flush on her cheeks faded to a more becoming pink as her fury subsided, to be replaced by discomfiture. She did not answer, however, only gazed unhappily at the book he held.
    "You are telling me, Miss Desmond, that this book does not belong to Lord Streetham?"
    "No, it does not," she answered in a choked voice.
    "Then why was it here, and enclosed in this odd binding?" He moved closer to show her the richly tooled cover. "This is supposed to be a work on horticulture."
    "Yes, I know. I can read Greek," she said stiffly.
    "You can?"
    "Don't patronise me, sir."
    "I beg your pardon. I meant no offence. It's just that young ladies — "
    "Oh, don't , please."
    To his surprise, Miss Desmond threw herself into the chair he'd vacated and clutched her head in her hands. Several pins flew out, and the gleaming black tresses they'd contained slipped out after them to dangle against her shoulders.
    Jack politely looked away.
    "Young ladies," she muttered. "Yes, a fine lady I am, don't you think? Make a fool of myself first, then think after. That's the way of it. Good grief." She looked up, her grey-green eyes clouded with remorse. "I'm sorry I called you those horrid names. In case you had any doubts, I have a beastly temper. And no one knows where I get it from because Mama and Papa both are so — oh, never mind."
    Though he was unaccustomed to coping with overwrought young women — that was more in Tony's line — Jack had lived with three short-tempered sisters. "I don't mind," he said, trying for the airy tone he often took with