Lord Langley Is Back in Town Read Online Free PDF Page B

Luckily she didn’t. But Thomas-William had muttered something about her stealing his pistol once, something he’d dismissed as a drunken blithering.
    Still, Langley glanced over at her window, the one on the corner near the drainpipe. The chamber was dark and still, which said to him she had either sought her bed long before or was out for the evening.
    “Why hasn’t she cast them out?” he asked. From what Thomas-William had said about the lady, he couldn’t imagine Minerva Sterling suffering a pack of fools gladly.
    Thomas-William’s answer was one upraised brow that said so very clearly that the lady had tried . . . and failed.
    Langley nodded. “It would have probably taken a regiment of the king’s finest Marines, a dedicated group of cannoneers, and a nearby sale on silks to get those four to quit their stronghold now that they’ve dug in.”
    “And they know you’re about,” the other man grumbled.
    That was the worst of it. They knew he was alive. And that he was in London. So how was it that all four of them had discovered this, and discovered it early enough to journey all this way just to corner him? And what if they believed the rumors, the lies that he was guilty of treason . . . guilty of something he couldn’t even remember . . .
    Perhaps he should take a more a careful tack, listen to Thomas-William.
    “Are you coming?” the man prodded.
    Shivering in the cold, Langley muttered, “I must get my notes . . . my clothes . . .”
    “Have you considered that one of them might be . . .” Thomas-William’s words trailed off, but it didn’t take much wit to finish his supposition.
    The one who wanted to see him gain his just reward  . . .
    Oh, yes, that thought had run its wild course through his rattled senses.
    “This complicates everything,” he said, more to himself.
    Thomas-William made a loud snort, as if to underline such a statement. “I have your things—at least your clothes. Come with me to the earl’s estate. We’ll catch the first tide.”
    Langley shook his head. “No, I stay in London. I’ll never discover the truth, never clear my name, cowering in the countryside.”
    “Suit yourself. You might try the King’s Barrel in Shoreditch. Ellyson favored it when he came to town. Mention him, and the landlady might extend you credit.” This was Thomas-William’s oh-so-subtle way of reminding him that he had no money. No money for lodgings, no money for bribes, all the things that would have made his task much easier.
    That was the rub of it. He had no money—other than the handful of coins he’d stowed away in the attic. Nor was Thomas-William sporting plump pockets, not unless he’d finally found a way to win back his last six months of salary from that cheating little minx, Tia.
    Since most everyone thought him dead anyway, his fortune had been divided between his daughters. There were no accounts to draw from, not unless he wanted to drag Felicity and Tally into his dangerous pursuit. And that was exactly why he’d deposited them in Miss Emery’s school all those years ago. To keep them safe. Hidden away from his enemies.
    Hiding.
    God, he hated that word. It left him in alleyways, grasping at fleeting memories and chasing shadows. What if this was it? The rest of his life was to be spent thusly? At the edges of society, if only to avoid the scandal of treason, of his name—not to mention his carcass—being dragged through the streets and what that would mean to his daughters, their reputations.
    Shivering anew, Langley lost patience with this half-life of his—even if it was only for a narrow bed and the faint warmth of Lady Standon’s attics. By God, he needed to finish this. But to do that, he needed to retrieve his journal—for it held what little he did remember of Paris, along with his list of suspects, top of which sat one name: Sir Basil Brownett.
    That was one of two things he’d recalled all this time. Sir Basil’s name and a shadowy