Free Forever Your Earl by Eva Leigh Page A

her charm, don’t let that slip your memory.
    She was using him. Just as he used her. They’d reached a kind of equilibrium on the foundation of mutual manipulation and mistrust.
    There was no creature on this earth more devious than a journalist. Writers, on the whole, were a slippery lot. Cunning-­eyed creatures, sly observers who made the whole world fodder for their quills. Human emotion was something they lived to exploit. He’d best remember that.
    At last, the carriage turned onto Bond Street.
    â€œBring us to an alley entrance,” Daniel called up to the driver.
    The coachman obeyed, and in a moment, the carriage stopped in front of a narrow but decently lit passageway between shops.
    The footman opened the door, and Daniel alit from the vehicle. He had to stop himself from helping Miss Hawke step down. She saw to it herself.
    The woman in question frowned as she glanced down the alleyway. “Are you planning on robbing me in there? I assure you, my lo—­Ashford, your pockets are more richly lined than mine.”
    â€œI doubt that,” he answered, “as I travel with very little cash.”
    Her snort was decidedly unladylike. “Should have figured. So if it’s coin you’re after, I can give you one pound sixpence.”
    He waved off her money. “Before we take a turn down Bond Street, there’s one thing we need to practice.” Gesturing toward the alley, he said, “Walk for me.”
    Her frown deepened. “I won’t give you another opportunity to ogle my arse.”
    â€œThis isn’t about ogling anyone’s arse.” Though that wasn’t entirely true, since it was nigh impossible for him not to watch the way she moved, or the shape of her body, even beneath her disguise. “It’s about the nuances of being a man.”
    â€œAnd here I thought there were no nuances when it came to being a man.”
    â€œJust walk.”
    She shrugged, then did as he’d suggested. She strolled down the alley and then back.
    When she returned to him, he sighed and shook his head. “It’s as I feared. You move like a woman.” She had a natural roll to her hips, a sway that indeed drew his eye to her arse. Yes, she was dressed in convincing masculine attire, but it was only a shell hiding the female beneath.
    He’d also seen actresses in breeches parts before. And courtesans dressed in the sheerest gowns. But seeing Miss Hawke’s legs encased in breeches, revealing their length and active energy, shot heat right to his groin.
    â€œAn odd correlation, given that I am a woman.” But her mouth twisted. “What do I need to do, to move like a man?”
    â€œWatch me.” He strode up and down the alley, all the while conscious of her eyes on him. For the first few steps, he felt oddly awkward, knowing she watched. He was used to being observed—­it came with being an heir and then a nobleman—­yet something was different, knowing that her gaze was on him, assessing, judging. Did she like what she saw? He’d never had complaints from other women before. In truth, he fielded more than his share of compliments. Observation had taught him that he wasn’t a plain man, not the way women and some men responded to him. But it didn’t matter. He’d no control over his looks, his height. He might as well take credit for the tides.
    Yet he wanted Miss Hawke to like what she saw when she looked at him. Why the hell should it matter to him what she thought?
    Get out of your damn head and just bloody walk .
    So he did.
    â€œWhat did you see?” he asked when he returned to her, waiting at the entrance to the alley.
    Her brow furrowed in thought. “I’m not much of an expert on refined female behavior, but even when I was a little girl, I was told not to run, not to swing my arms or make my stride too big. That”—­she gestured to the alley, indicating Daniel’s