Page 3 of Her Daring Earl
A smirk began to play over his lips and Eliza knew him well enough to be aware that a joke had come to him, one that she would likely rather not hear.
Finally, he couldn’t help himself.
“It must have been difficult for you to resist volunteering for the job.”
“I would rather sleep in the barn.”
Then he did something that surprised her more than she would like.
He threw back his head and laughed out loud.
His laugh was one of those that was so overwhelmingly contagious, loud and booming, that all of the couples nearby and even those close to the other side of the dance floor turned toward them in both shock and interest to see what had so enraptured the earl.
Eliza lifted her hand off of his shoulder ever so slightly and smacked him. “Stop that.”
“Why? You made the joke!”
“Everyone is staring.”
“Do you care?” he asked, lifting a brow, and not for the first time, Eliza cursed him for how handsome he was.
“I do not. But my mother will. And your mother will. And then there will be hell to pay after this.”
“I am a grown man, two and thirty. An earl. It doesn’t matter what my mother thinks.”
“Does it not?” Eliza said, lifting a brow and taking a small step backward. “Perhaps, then, we should go find her to discuss your intentions on taking a bride. I am sure she has an opinion. In fact?—"
“You will do no such thing,” he practically growled, pulling her so quickly and tightly against him that she gasped, feeling every hard muscle not otherwise cloaked in an abundance of fabric meld against her body. “My mother does not need to know of such things.”
“Because you are scared of her,” she teased.
“I am not.”
“You are! Otherwise, you wouldn’t pay her interest in marrying off your sisters any mind and you would let Dot do exactly what she wants to do.”
“And be a midwife?”
“She loves it.”
“Just as I love new adventures. But you are not going to find me traipsing around the countryside night and day to fulfill my dreams. I have a job to do, and I am not going to shirk it. Dot also needs to do what she must.”
“Says who?”
“Says…” he blinked, and she knew she had him for a moment. He shook his head abruptly. “Society. My mother. My father.”
“Your father is dead, so he doesn’t care. Your mother will be fine, and in fact, it seems to me she rather likes having her daughters nearby. She just thinks it is proper to marry them off. And you only care about society because of your political ambitions.”
“I am an earl. I have my seat regardless of what people think of me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know you. You want people to think that you have no cares in the world, but you want them to respect you so that they listen to what you say and put credence in your opinions.”
He leaned in toward her, more eagerness in his stance than she had ever seen in him before. He was usually such a carefree, lackadaisical man. “I want to create change, Eliza. To do that, I need people to support me.”
“What kind of change?” she asked, suddenly intrigued, even though the song was beginning to come to a close.
“What the hell?” he growled, causing Eliza to start.
“That is not exactly the language?—”
