“
Lord Langford," she acknowledged, looking right down her nose at the man.
"Penelope," the older man said, unable to keep the surprise from his gaze.
"It's Lady Bourne to you." The words were cool and cutting, and Michael was sure she'd never been more beautiful. "Come to think of it, it was always lady to you. And you never referred to me as such."
The older man's gaze narrowed in irritation, and Michael had an intense urge to put a fist into the viscount's face for the look.
It was not necessary. His wife was more than able to care for herself. "You don't like that, I see. Well, let me tell what I don't like. I don't like insolence. And I don't like cruelty. And I most definitely don't like you. It is time you and I have it out, Langford, because while you might have stolen my husband's lands and funds and reputation, and you might have been a truly horrendous father to my friend, I absolutely refuse to have you take another thing from me, you despicable old man.
”
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