Forever Your Earl by Eva Leigh

my lord, a pleasure to see you this evening!” The older man glanced at Miss Hawke. “And who is this young gentleman?”
    â€œHis cousin,” she answered in that strange “masculine” voice she’d affected. Daniel wouldn’t have been fooled by it, but everyone else seemed to be. Perhaps he was simply too aware of Miss Hawke’s femininity—­despite her profession and her current disguise.
    â€œFrom Lincolnshire,” he added, as if that explained everything.
    Bell nodded sagely. “I’ll show you to a special table.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with my usual place?” Daniel demanded, glancing toward the settle near the fire.
    â€œWell, uh . . .” Bell coughed into his hand. “It only seats one.”
    â€œThen fetch a chair, man.”
    â€œOf course! If you’ll indulge me and wait just a moment, I’ll . . . yes . . .” The proprietor hastened away in search of a chair.
    â€œDo you not dine with friends?” Miss Hawke asked after they were left alone.
    â€œNot here I don’t.” There had been times that he’d taken meals with Marwood or Jonathan, but he seemed to prefer his own company when it came to dining, especially lately.
    â€œWhy?”
    He smothered a curse. It was likely a hazard of spending time with someone in her line of work that he’d be peppered frequently with questions. But perhaps there was something slightly refreshing about keeping company with a person who was genuinely curious about the world, rather than simply accepting things as facts or remaining steadfastly superficial.
    And he’d opened himself up to this when he’d invited her along on his nightly activities.
    â€œBefore the noise and bustle of the evening,” he said, holding tight to the head of his walking stick, “I enjoy . . . being alone.” Not entirely the truth, though there was a grain of veracity in it. For all the time he and Jonathan had spent together, Daniel also liked his own company, when he could be isolated within the sanctum of his thoughts.
    She continued to stare at him. Clearly, his response wasn’t enough to satisfy her scribbler’s curiosity.
    So he continued. “There are always so many voices around me. So many distractions. But they can get very . . . loud. Here, I can be by myself.”
    â€œYou could be by yourself at home, too,” she pointed out.
    And lonely, he thought. Something about eating by himself in that cavernous dining room that could seat two dozen guests felt as hollow as the chamber itself. He would occasionally eat in his chambers, but he’d grow too restless, too aware of his isolation.
    â€œI like this better,” he said.
    Fortunately, he was saved from the need for further explanation by the timely return of Bell. “Many apologies for the delay, my lord. All is in readiness.”
    They followed the proprietor through the maze of filled tables. As Daniel and Miss Hawke progressed, he’d give an occasional nod to acquaintances, ignoring their curious glances at his companion. He supposed that Bell wasn’t the only one who’d noticed his preference for isolation, and here he was, breaking from his usual mold.
    It felt . . . good.
    Daniel wanted to offer Miss Hawke the settle, while he took the chair. But between him and “Ned Sinclair,” he was the one with greater status, so the ruse had to take precedence over politeness. Miss Hawke sat down with an unconsciously feminine little flourish, which made him wince, but at least she remembered not to cross her legs.
    â€œThe usual to drink, my lord?” Bell asked once they’d been seated.
    â€œYes, ale for me,” Daniel answered.
    The proprietor turned expectantly toward Miss Hawke. She looked momentarily flustered.
    â€œAh . . . lemonade,” she stammered. “No, I’m sorry. I’ll have an ale, too, thank