Forever Your Earl Read Online Free

He still wore his gloves, but through the delicate kidskin he could feel calluses lining her fingers—­she worked for a living. Her hand was warm, too, even through the thin leather of his gloves. A tropic current pulsed through him. What would it feel like to have their bare palms press against each other, skin to skin? He’d known the feel of many women, but none like her.
    She gazed down at their joined hands, a faint frown nestled between her eyebrows. As if trying to puzzle out an enigma.
    He’d have to be on his guard around her. She was the kind of person who would never give up on a mystery until every aspect of it was uncovered. If she unearthed his true motive for this proposition, the consequences would be ruinous.
    Abruptly, she broke the grip between them. Her hand pressed against her skirts. She cleared her throat. “We should fix a schedule. When shall we begin?”
    â€œAs soon as possible.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “In a hurry, my lord?”
    Using years of a nobleman’s training, he made his voice smooth and unaffected. “Don’t want to keep your readers in the dark for too long.” Which wasn’t an answer, but he wasn’t about to give her one.
    â€œTomorrow will suffice,” she answered, “if that suits you.”
    â€œIt does,” he answered. “I’d been planning on spending our evening at Donnegan’s.”
    â€œI’m not familiar with it.”
    â€œThis gaming hell isn’t exactly sanctioned.”
    â€œA gaming hell.” She practically bounced on her feet in eagerness, then stilled. “Do they allow women?”
    â€œNo—­so I might have to come up with a new plan.” All this time, he’d been planning that E. Hawke was a man.
    â€œI can get my hands on some masculine attire,” she said. “A disguise.” Far from looking daunted by the prospect of wearing men’s clothing and infiltrating a haven of male vice, Miss Hawke looked as excited as a child given free rein in a toy shop. A very immoral toy shop.
    â€œHow?”
    â€œI have friends in the theater,” she answered.
    â€œNaturally—­one employment of disrepute gravitates toward another.”
    â€œAnd yet titled men lead lives of such incomparable virtue.”
    â€œWe are fond of the theater,” he said drily. “Feeds our appetite for dissipation.”
    â€œWell, my dissipated friends at the Imperial Theater will give me access to their costumes and wigs.”
    He lifted his brows. “The Imperial. They’re known for their rather . . . unconventional theatrical offerings.” His friend Marwood almost never missed a night at the Imperial. Marwood especially loved the burlettas of Mrs. Delamere, which inevitably skewered the upper classes.
    Miss Hawke’s quick, wide smile caught him between the ribs. “When one doesn’t have a patent, one has to be a bit inventive in order to bring in patrons.”
    He set his hat on his head. “Tomorrow night, then. I’ll pick you up at the Imperial.”
    â€œTomorrow night.”
    After a pause, he turned and left, all the while aware of her gaze on his back as he strode from the office.
    He’d no choice—­this had to be done. He’d have to see this through, whatever it might bring. Yet he couldn’t forget the feel of her hand in his. Slim and warm and strong. As he stepped out onto the street, where his carriage waited for him, a thought whispered that he’d just agreed to a bargain with a very pretty devil.

 
    Chapter 2
    For all our era’s claims to probity and integrity—­some of which are true—­it may shock and appall this paper’s virtuous readers to learn that there is a high degree of insincerity, nay, outright concealment, that lurks beneath the surface of our society. Those who represent themselves as a certain thing often prove entirely different beneath