Read Online Forever Your Earl by Eva Leigh - Free Book Online Page B

tonight—­and tomorrow—­planned.”
    He actually looked abashed. “I like plans,” he muttered.
    â€œClearly.” But this was still a revelation. Who would have suspected that the rakehell earl was a man who enjoyed order and structure? She would have thought he’d chafe against such restrictions. Was he more responsible, more serious than she’d thought? Definitely not too serious, the way he took pains to quiz her.
    The Imperial Theater was several miles from Bond Street, which left her and the earl with a goodly amount of time to ride in silence. After several moments, however, she couldn’t keep quiet.
    â€œYou haven’t mentioned my disguise,” she burst out.
    His eyebrows raised. “Oh, are you wearing a disguise?”
    Scowling, she clenched her walking stick tighter, though it was a struggle not to brain him with it.
    â€œIn truth,” he said, holding up placating hands, “it’s remarkable work. I almost didn’t recognize you on the street except for your . . .” He glanced away.
    â€œMy what?” Her eyes? No, he wouldn’t be able to see them at a distance and in the dim light of dusk. Her hair color? She wore a wig, though it matched her hair’s natural hue.
    â€œYour arse,” he finally said.
    She started, then tried to twist and glance back at the anatomical part in question. “My coat hides it. And besides, we only met yesterday. It’s impossible for you to have memorized the shape of my . . . my arse.”
    â€œNever underestimate a man’s capacity for ogling.”
    â€œIf I embroidered, I’d include that in my next sampler,” she said drily. But in the midst of her exasperation, she became aware of two things: one, that he was aware of her physically; and two, that to one man, at least, she was recognizable as a woman. “Does that mean that anyone can tell my gender?”
    â€œDoubtful,” he answered. The sun had descended even more, and streaks of gold from streetlights and shop windows traced the clean lines of his face. “I think I’m more . . . attuned . . . to you than most would be.”
    She wasn’t certain that provided comfort.
    â€œThe costumer and cosmetic artist at the Imperial did a very fine job,” he said, as though eager to change the subject. Though she considered herself a worldly and generally hard-­to-­shock person, she couldn’t stop her eyes from widening when he stared directly at the apex of her thighs. Admittedly, wearing trousers was a novel, and snug, experience, but this kind of inspection wasn’t expected.
    â€œThey didn’t miss any detail, did they?” he murmured. “Gave you a sausage and potatoes.”
    â€œIt’d look awfully strange if I didn’t have anything down there, wouldn’t it?” She resisted the urge to give her faux genitalia a poke. “I have no idea how you men walk around with these ridiculous articles hanging between your legs.”
    â€œIt’s even worse when they’re made of flesh and blood,” he said solemnly. “They try to stage a coup against men’s brains every day.”
    â€œBut higher reason triumphs,” she pointed out.
    â€œOccasionally. It’s a tenuous balance of power.”
    Thank God she’d grown up around very colorful, outrageous characters, and spent considerable time with Maggie and her wild theatrical colleagues, or else this conversation about men’s genitals might have sent her into a state of waking unconsciousness.
    â€œThe costumer did a good job with that, too.” He waved in the direction of her compressed breasts.
    â€œWith what?” she asked disingenuously.
    â€œYour . . . chest,” he said through his teeth.
    â€œCome now, Ashford,” she chided. “Don’t try to fool me into thinking you have delicate sensibilities. You’re the same man who