“St. Just let Emmie lead him by the wrist upstairs into the bedroom she was using. She closed the door behind them without a thought, and it occurred to him in London, were he to be found being private with a lady in her bedroom, that lady would be his wife, or his intended, will she, nil she. God bless Yorkshire, he silently concluded as Emmie rummaged in her wardrobe, for Emmie Farnum deserved better than the likes of him. She emerged with a silver tin and waved it at him. “Shirt off,” she ord...ered, crossing her arms and waiting. When he lifted an eyebrow, she just waved the tin again. “I’ve seen you without, my lord,” she reminded him, “and I am hardly a blushing debutante. You cannot put this on your own back, and Lord Amery is nowhere to be found, though you should send him to me when we’re done here.” Slowly, he unbuttoned both waistcoat and shirt and shrugged out of them, all the while trying not to feel her gorgeous blue eyes taking the measure of him as he shed half his clothes.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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