Free Earls Just Want to Have Fun by Shana Galen

were uglier than sin. At least she had all of her teeth, and her face wasn’t marked by the pox. She didn’t delude herself into thinking she could compare to the ladies she saw alighting from carriages on Bond Street or at Covent Garden. The Earl of whatever he was probably had one of those ladies in his bed every night. She felt her face flame with embarrassment to think she’d asked if he thought her beautiful. He was too polite to laugh in her face.
    â€œMarlowe?”
    â€œNo. I mean, yes. I mean, I don’t know what you asked me, but I won’t hit you. Just let me up.”
    â€œI’m going to count to three.”
    â€œOh, bloody hell! Just let me up!”
    â€œAnd on that mellifluous note, I release you.” As soon as he slid off her, she scrambled up and out from under him. She climbed to the far edge of the bed and sat on her haunches, ready to fight if necessary. The bastard still had her dagger. Now she had two items to filch. But she needn’t have prepared for battle. He obviously didn’t want her. He rolled off the bed and walked toward the hearth. A moment later, he’d lit two glim-sticks and poured himself a glass of some liquid. “Brandy?” he asked, raising a brow at her.
    â€œWhy?”
    He looked heavenward. “I feel for your parents, Marlowe. I really do. When she meets you, Lady Lyndon will be so shocked she will no doubt faint dead away.”
    Marlowe didn’t have a response to that, so she merely watched as he poured a second glass of amber liquid and carried it to her. He moved with a grace she could appreciate, having lived with thieves who needed to be quick and agile. But this man was not quick. He moved slowly and with purpose and even beauty. There was something beautiful about the confident way he held himself. “Here.” He held one of the glasses out to her. She looked at his hand then back at his face.
    â€œWhy are you giving this to me?”
    â€œI don’t know. Because it’s polite? Because I don’t want to drink alone? Because you look like you could use it? Just take it.”
    She took it and sniffed. It smelled like spirits.
    â€œYou’ve never had brandy, have you?” he asked, swirling his about. “It burns a bit going down, but then it warms you through.”
    â€œLike gin?”
    â€œOh, you’ve had that, have you? Doesn’t surprise me. A bit like gin but much smoother. Try it.”
    She took a small sip, winced at the taste, and then felt the warmth spread through her. It wasn’t bad. Much better than the gin Satin liked to drink.
    â€œThe verdict?” he asked.
    â€œWhat?”
    He gave her a half smile. “Do you like it?”
    She shrugged. “I’ve drank worse.”
    He laughed, and the sound surprised her. “High praise indeed. Now, my girl, I think we had better have a talk.”
    â€œI’m not your girl.”
    â€œAnd thank God for small mercies.” He took a seat in the chair she’d slept in, leaving her on the bed. “I just thought perhaps we might have a conversation like civilized people. You don’t kick me or curse like…well, like yourself, and I will attempt not to throw you over my shoulder or pin you to my bed.”
    â€œYou like to talk, don’t you?”
    He grinned at her. “Some women find me charming.”
    She merely blinked at that. He was handsome enough, but she had no use for men with charm. They usually wanted to charm guineas out of her pocket.
    â€œClearly, you don’t find me charming.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Be that as it may, I want to propose a compromise.”
    â€œWhich means I agree to let you have your way and stop fighting.”
    He opened his mouth to speak, probably to protest, but then he gave a small shrug. “I suppose that is what I mean. But there are benefits to staying the rest of the