Free Kiss the Earl by Gina Lamm Page A

walked on the outside edges of her abused and bandaged soles, wincing with pain as her weight descended on the tender skin. When she got behind the screen, she looked down at the unassuming, lidded china pot.
    â€œMan, am I glad I was forced to go camping when I was little,” Ella said, picking up the lid and wrinkling her nose. “If I can squat behind a tree, then I can do this too.”
    It wasn’t fun, but it was a relief, and once Ella had taken care of her needs, she hobbled back around the screen. She washed her hands, then sat down on the ladder-backed chair to check out the clothes the maid had given Patrick the night before.
    A pair of short boots, their brown leather a little scuffed but nice enough; some kind of stockings; an underdress, plain and kind of shapeless, with a little white ribbon around the neckline; and then, the dress. It was a soft blue, a little plain, but pretty enough.
    Ella smiled at the dress. It wasn’t anywhere near the same time period, but it kind of reminded her of all the costumes she’d worn for the Renaissance Faires. It was pretty, girly, and feminine. This would be fine. Besides, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and right now she was certainly a beggar.
    Taking advantage of the fact that Patrick was still out of the room, Ella wriggled out of her skimpy blue dress and pulled on the white undergown. Since her Spanx were out of commission after the way she’d tried to make them into makeshift bandages last night, she went commando. Hey, what they didn’t know couldn’t label her, right? But man, she wished she had a bra with her. But there wasn’t any help for that. As she slipped on the blue dress, Ella wondered what Patrick would think of her new look.
    She didn’t have long to wonder, though, because the earl threw open the door only sixty seconds later. She was still pulling on her stockings over her bandaged feet when he appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide and kind of panicked.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    Glancing into the hallway behind him, Patrick swiftly closed the door. “You were right,” he hissed as he grabbed his neckcloth. “Those are the baron’s men, and they are looking for me. They were in the taproom, and one of them saw me. I do not know if he recognized me, but we must away, and quickly.”
    â€œOh, crap,” Ella said, all the blood draining from her cheeks.
    â€œIndeed,” Patrick said dryly. “Please don your boots. We’ll need to climb out the window.”
    Biting her lip against the discomfort, Ella did as Patrick asked. Damn her feet, and damn the baron. This wasn’t going to be fun.

Seven
    â€œOh, holy crap. This is way too high.”
    â€œIf you would hold on to the window frame as I suggested—”
    â€œIt’s too awkward to grip there. I can’t get my hand around it.”
    â€œThen what do you suggest?”
    â€œTaking the elevator?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNo elevator. Walking out through the front door?”
    â€œThen you shall be left quite alone here at this inn, and I doubt the pile of coins I left would cover your extended stay. Besides, I am on the ground already, awaiting your descent with bated breath.”
    And a good bit of irritation, if Patrick were honest with himself. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the upper window of the Hart and Dove. Fortunately, their room was on the back side of the inn, and a small rise made the second-floor drop not quite so dire. Patrick had managed to climb down easily, but as he looked up at Ella’s boots kicking feebly as she slid backward from the window, he wasn’t sure if she would have the same luck. If he tried, he was sure he could see up her skirts.
    Damn his honorable hide. He averted his gaze and glanced toward the stables. “If you could try to hasten your descent, all the searchers seem to have gone into the taproom. Now would be an excellent