The Notorious Proposal

by Terry Long

  Mr. Langdon appeared to be trying to control his breathing. After an inestimable moment of utter silence, where she heard birds chirping overhead, he nodded for her to go ahead and state them while he observed her through narrowed eyes.

  “You’ll give me five pounds for every day we’re married.”

  Aside from the slight twitch in his jaw, Ally noted no other distinct movement. He could have been carved from the Thames’ ice frozen over in January. Really, the man practically solidified to a hard block of granite.

  “Mr. Langdon?”

  “One pound,” he grated through clenched teeth.

  “Sir, please keep in mind, I must remain married to you.” Though five pounds had given her the idea that the man must have gone a little mad to even agree with her eccentric demand at all, Ally sensed he could be pushed just a little bit further. “Five.”

  “Two.”

  “Five pounds per day, or no deal.” Ally wanted to smile when she saw a vein in his temple throb. She quickly stifled it. He could very well throttle her with his bare hands. He looked angry enough to do it.

  “Five pounds. Anything else?” he asked, not at all attempting to hide the scorn in his voice. His eyes now looked at her with renewed hatred and disgust. She believed he had loads more, an abundant supply of loathing in his being to replenish for her.

  Shaking her head, she averted her gaze. “No. That…will be all.”

  “Then we have a deal.”

  “Yes.”

  He wasted no time in nudging his horse forward.

  It was a nice turn of events. Winning a discussion-no, argument-with a man like Mr. Langdon lifted her spirits a tad, if not a lot, but she knew the battle was far from over. The look in his eyes suggested as much.

  Ally knew she’d gotten him beyond furious. She didn’t care. The funds were going to be utilized in a beneficial manner.

  Dr. Reeves would be pleased to learn that the hospital could now procure all of the equipment and supplies needed to treat any patient with any illness.

  Nana would be proud that when her granddaughter walked out of this ridiculous marriage, she’d have helped dozens, hopefully hundreds of people.

  ***

  Absurd as her marriage was, it was just as speedy and unromantic. When the blacksmiths asked them to seal their marriage with a kiss, her new husband opted not to. He’d left her standing in the middle of the hall with its owners passing her uneasy glances. Once again, Ally was reduced to staring after the man’s stiff back as he strode out, presumably making haste to the coaching inn, where he’d left his precious giant horse.

  She didn’t very much care for a kiss, anyway. It was no important thing if her husband—Michael, she’d just learned his Christian name from the blacksmith—hadn’t kissed her, or if he never shall. The odious man wasn’t going to be her husband for long.

  Victor would find a wife effortlessly, she was positive. And as soon as that happened, her husband would get their marriage annulled, and Ally would go back home to Nana, where she belonged.

  Chapter Five

  His wife, Michael decided, was a bossy bit of goods.

  After trailing him to his horse, she impatiently wriggled her arms, showing him she was ready to be lifted at that precise moment.

  Then, when he settled her in front of him, she scooted as far away as she could, making it known she didn’t care to sit that close to him. Had he not righted her, she would have plummeted down, face first. Maybe that would smack some sense into her.

  Finally, when he reached around her to retrieve the reins, she pushed his arms away. The woman was insufferable!

  “There isn’t any way I can avoid touching you,” Michael informed in a scathing tone before reclaiming the reins. “Believe me, if I could go about it, I would. There is nothing that rankles me more.”

  Her lips curled in disdain while she shot him a hot glare for the briefest of seconds, before turning her face. Her shoulders rose and fell dramatically in sync with her breathing.

  They began their overcrowded travel back to London, the heaps of work that awaited his attention at home, the only diversion from the determined ill temper of his companion. She demanded he slow their pace several times—all of which he’d paid her no heed—until she realized he couldn’t be ordered around like a lapdog.

  The second time he stopped to water Caspian at a horse changing station that day, Miss Overton—Ally—wandered toward a maple tree not far away. While he answered the horse keeper’s friendly questions about naught, Michael clasped his hands behind his back and kept a close eye on Ally.

  She watched the other travelers chatter amongst themselves near the inn’s front entry. Ally ran a hand over the folds of her skirts as if to smooth out the creases. Michael followed her hand’s downward movement and noticed that her butternut-yellow gown looked a trifle outdated and plain in contrast to the other women’s. He wondered if her shift was also out of date. Probably. He made a mental note to have his housekeeper take care of dressing the chit since he didn’t give her time to pack a valise.

  Once Ally propped a shoulder against the large trunk, she turned her head in his direction as if sensing his eyes on her. Her gaze met his across the station grounds, and for a short moment, the muscles in his shoulders tensed. Why did she make him so damn uncomfortable? He forced a scowl, refusing to be the first to break their contact. That was when he noticed her pink-stained cheeks. He had no doubt she’d acquired them from sitting under the warm sun without a bonnet. It was rather fetching. Damnation!

  Narrowing her eyes, she lifted her chin and turned her back. Michael peeled his gaze from her. The woman vexed him like no other could.

  After twenty minutes of ignoring the little spitfire he’d wedded, he finally gained his mount again and continued home. Michael steered them from the main road to shield her from the balmy sun until it began its slow decent to the right of him.

  He decided that they would lodge at the same inn that evening. This time however, he didn’t need to carry his new wife. She walked inside on her own, her chin held so regally high, he knew she did it to spite him. If she believed that he desired her company any more than she despised his, she was sorely mistaken. He had been so unreservedly glad to finally dismount from his horse that he could have shouted with pleasure.

  Michael spied Ally waiting with both hands clasped behind her back as he gave instructions to the stable boy. The innkeeper appeared and greeted him with pleasantries, but Michael’s blasted gaze kept flying inside. When she glared back at him, he realized a simple glimpse at her was unwelcome. He swore under his breath. He’d have to speak to her about her place and behavior. It was unacceptable the way she blatantly defied him.

  Michael secured a room and followed her up the narrow staircase. He gnashed his teeth when his gaze seemed to have glued to the sight of her stockinged ankles. And a foot from his face, her ample, swaying derrière as she took each step. He stifled an oath.

  Doubtlessly, she had practiced this wicked performance. She knew exactly how to move, how to shift her hips just so, to show just enough leg. She was a horrible woman—a sexy, but horrible woman. His body responded to her nevertheless, and he detested it. He had control. He always had control, and he wasn’t about to lose it to his wife.

  After unlocking the door, he drove it in, slamming it against the wall inside. “After you, milady.”

  “Thank you, kind sir.” She gave him a curtsy to match her pleasant tone. Not only did she openly defy him, now she was mocking him.

  Michael marched past her, grabbed a pillow and threw it on the wooden floor boards to mark where he’d be sleeping. He opened his mouth to berate her for her defiance, but when his eyes met hers, she smiled. A sweet, beguiling smile, and he failed to remember what he’d wanted to say.

  As she turned her back with deliberate slowness, she said, “I trust you’ll sleep well, sir.”

  From the gist of her polite murmur, one could have believed her wish to be sincere, but he k
new better.

  ***

  The following day of travel passed without difficulty. All because his wife decided to ignore him. All day. He was thankful for that. He never thought she had it in her.

  As Michael reached the perimeter of London that evening, Victor surfaced in his mind. He knew he still had to deal with his brother before he could get back to his work. There’d be piles and piles of it scattered upon his desk. And why? It was all because of this woman who currently slept against his chest, lightly breathing.

  She smelled good.

  Appalled at his wayward thoughts, he pushed them aside, concentrating on his brother.

  Victor would be furious with him at first, but he’d come around. He’d hunt for a wife, an ideal one. They’d marry and have many children. They’d be happy.

  That was what he wanted for Victor. And that was what Victor would get.

  His brother would not be saddled with this scheming woman. Had she truly told Victor she was an innocent? No, Michael didn’t think she’d proclaim to be the virginal goddess so unreservedly. She’d probably act the part though.

  Little Miss Overton— no, Mrs. Langdon, he sneered at the thought—was good at that. She occasionally presented him those innocent, sparkling eyes, and she blushed like an unseasoned woman when he stared at her too long. Michael scoffed. She was a very good liar- a selfish, practiced liar who’d do just about anything for a means to add to her assets.

  Michael peered down at the top of her head. With the side of her face pinned against his chest, he couldn’t see those conniving features, but he knew her lips were probably still soft and supple-looking, and her cheeks, too. She smelled liked springtime. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Damnation!

  Just as Michael trotted past his towering gates, Victor’s silhouette against the oil lamps came into view. He paced the graveled driveway like a caged animal. When Michael came into his line of vision, Victor ran to him. Actually ran.

  “Have you been with her this entire time? Where did you take her?” Once Victor realized Ally’s head was tucked against his chest, accusation enveloped his eyes.

  Hell, this is going to be a long night.

  ***

  She opened her eyes to the sudden commotion.

  “Ally?”

  She looked down towards the sound of the voice. “Mr. Langdon?”

  “Yes, it is I. Are you all right?”

  “I am…well. Thank you.” She moved her shoulders back an inch to stretch her sore back. When she felt a hard body, her mind abruptly cleared from sleep. Ally straightened.

  Victor looked at her with a mixture of both concern and relief.

  Michael moved down his horse and heaved her to ground level, where she swayed. He draped an arm around her shoulder and roughly hauled her to his side. She wanted to ram her elbow into his ribs, but her limbs froze with one look at Victor’s face.

  She’d never encouraged him to call on her those past few days, but Victor had insisted on doing so. He’d said he had business to see to and could use a moment of respite from it all by taking tea with her. He had never mentioned courting her. And Ally had welcomed his short visits for it had taken her mind off Nana’s illness, if only briefly. He had become a friend to her amidst the distress.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Victor tried to pry Michael’s arm from her shoulders, bless him.

  Michael rotated her to his other side without sparing her a glance. Ally shot him a glare, but it was a wasted effort. His attention remained focused on his brother. She felt like a stuffed doll around the two towering men.

  “From now, you’ll look elsewhere for a wife, do I make myself clear? And don’t provoke me further. I’ve spent days traveling through many”—Michael shot her a brief glare—“Objectionable tribulations.”

  She wanted to kick him in the shin again. He knew exactly what to say to infuriate her. He made her feel so common.

  Victor shook his head, his brows furrowed in confusion. “But I told you, I want—”

  “Wife,” Michael ground out without peeling his eyes off his brother, “meet my younger brother, Victor. I am confident you remember him.”

  “What?” Victor shouted, his eyes wide and full of astonishment. “Tell me you’re jesting!”

  “You know I am not one to jest about anything,” Michael drawled deep and even. It almost sounded like a growl.

  “How could you?” A combination of hurt and disbelief crossed Victor’s face before he looked at her. “Ally? Tell me it isn’t true.” He took hold of one of her hands and squeezed. “Please.”

  Ally winced at both the pain and the way Victor pleaded with his eyes, as if willing her to respond in his favor. A wave of sorrow filled her heart. Victor wanted her as his wife, and the truth humbled her a great deal, though she’d rather not have any relations with the Langdons. The men frightened her with all the bellowing and dark looks.

  “You are not,” Michael bit out the same time he knocked his brother’s hand from hers. “To lay a finger on her.”

  Victor appeared ready to shout, but instead, he asked in a mild tone, “How could you, Ally? Why did you…” As he trailed off, his face contorted with anguish, tenfold. Ally had the odd urge to pat his hand. She felt just as bemused and petrified as Victor looked. Within a matter of seconds, however, his eyes widened like saucers. “He forced you, didn’t he?” This time, he did shout. “He made you do this!” Victor appeared like a mad man with wild hand gestures and all his bellowing.

  Ally, suddenly overcome with embarrassment and pity for Victor, averted her gaze. She’d never seen a grown man behave as such. But she couldn’t fault him. Michael, the ogre, did this. He was making everyone’s lives miserable. She just wanted to go home. The sooner, the better.

  A handful of servants came out to see the commotion unfolding in the driveway. They peeked and gawked as an elder man tried to restrain them at the foyer. Michael glanced toward the entryway. The servants froze and in an instant, melted away. The elder man, who had tried with no luck to hold back the servants, appeared relieved.

  “Matthews,” Michael called to him.

  The man hurried over and stood before them, showing no apparent emotion on his face now. He executed a slight bow. “Sir?”

  “My wife,” Michael announced without feeling. “Show her to her chamber.” Then, he slid his eyes to Victor and added, “The one adjoining mine.”

  Ally did not have the courage to look at Victor or stay about to see what he would say to that. She was thankful to no longer be the item of both men’s fury. She swiftly followed the old man, who was likely the butler, to the tall, doubled-door entryway. The tension she saw between the Langdon brothers horrified her beyond belief. One wanted to slaughter, and the other callously dared him to.

  “Matthews, is it?” she asked as they entered the foyer.

  “Yes, milady. At your service.”

  “That is very kind of you, even knowing that I was the source of…” Ally searched for a suitable word, but none came.

  She was thankful when Matthews said, “Not to worry, milady. Mr. Victor Langdon can sometimes be…er…”

  She gave him a tight smile when he was left searching for the right word to apply, too. “Noisy?” she supplied.

  Matthews laughed out loud and rushed to cover it with a cough. He turned a shade darker. Though she hadn’t wanted to embarrass the poor man, Ally couldn’t hide a small smile that curved her lips. She’d heard that most London’s elite households included butlers who never—under any circumstances—showed any emotion, even under immense pressure.

  “Mr. Langdon knows what is best for his brother, milady. He has taken care of the younger Langdon since he was a boy, practically raised him.”

  “Truly?” She hadn’t known that. Perhaps, that was the explanation for Michael’s overprotective manner toward his brother.

  As she trekked up the staircase and down an extensive corridor, her muscles throbbed at the mere thought of a bed. When the
y at last arrived, she opened her mouth to request a bath when Matthews said, “A bath will be brought up promptly. Will you be wanting anything else, milady?”

  Her stomach rumbled then, like a distant thunderstorm, and she averted her gaze in embarrassment. To her relief, the butler pretended as if he had gone deaf for that split second.

  He stepped aside to allow her view of the chamber. “Please let me know if there is something that isn’t to your liking. I will right it posthaste, milady.”

  “Thank you, Matthews. It’s perfect,” she assured him with a warm smile, even though she’d barely glanced inside. It wasn’t as if she’d be staying long.

  He stood straighter, his chin held higher. Ally took that movement to mean he was pleased with her answer, though his face hinted no expression. “A dinner tray will be brought up as well.” He presented a sharp bow before turning on his heels.

  Left alone, Ally gave the spacious chamber a quick peek before coming to terms with her predicament and stepping inside. No use standing in the corridor, waiting to confront him. She needed a clear head when she dealt with a stubborn goat like him.

  She widened her eyes. Although the only prominent piece of furniture was an oversized canopied bed, the sight proved unsettling. This bed could comfortably accommodate four. Did one require such space to sleep?

  As she ambled toward the back of the room, she fingered a privacy screen tinted in hues of pink and gold. A large tub sat behind it. She poked her head through a nearby door, finding a dressing room bare of clothing, but holding one large chair. Another entry led to a sitting room.

  Ally didn’t miss the connecting door as she continued her perusal. And she knew whose chamber was on the other side of it. Come what may, but she knew a man like Mr. Langdon esteemed his high-and-mighty sense of hauteur. He’d never force himself on a country bumpkin like herself. Moreover, not only had he shown how much he disliked her, he’d told her as much, though not in those exact words.