Forever Your Earl by Eva Leigh Page A

you.”
    â€œVery good, sir.” With that, Bell rushed off, perpetually the busy host.
    Alone again with Miss Hawke, Daniel said lowly, “Don’t apologize. Not for changing your mind. And you don’t thank a servant for doing his job.”
    She frowned. “I just don’t want to put him out.”
    â€œIt’s your prerogative to do as you please. As a man. And a man of status, too.” He shook his head. “Women apologize too much. Always begging someone’s forgiveness for the smallest trifles. You catch a cold and apologize for being ill. Take a breath, and it’s, ‘I’m so sorry for using your air.’ ”
    â€œBecause we’re taught to,” she replied. “Men just take and take. Like they’re the world’s rude houseguests. You’re not going to eat that, are you? I’ll just spread my legs and arms out in the omnibus and take up every last inch of space. And we’re harridans and harpies if we point it out. I suppose no one has ever said the word no to you.”
    â€œUntrue.” He hadn’t been able to join the army when the war had broken out. Of course, nobody had directly said no, since it was tacit that the heir couldn’t go to battle, and he’d never asked. But he’d felt the restriction, just the same.
    Yet she raised a valid point. That word was alien to his ears. Even Allam, outspoken as he was, refrained from outright denying Daniel.
    How bloody irritating. As if he couldn’t possibly have the fortitude to not get exactly what he wanted. He needed to practice more self-­discipline.
    Of course, he was learning more and more about that word no when it came to finding Jonathan. That’s all he’d been hearing as of late when it came to that objective. But things had to change. It was imperative that they did. The man’s life hung in the balance.
    â€œJust once,” Miss Hawke said, “someone will say no to you. And I’d like to be there when it happens.”
    â€œIf you’re looking for more fodder for your scandal rag,” he rejoined, “that’s a closed line of enquiry.”
    Yet she only smirked. “I can be very persistent, Ashford.”
    â€œAs can I, Ned .”
    The barmaid, a tall, bosomy brunette, appeared beside the table. She smiled enticingly at Daniel. “The usual, my lord?”
    That seemed to be the night’s refrain. Much as he hated being called a rake, he made a piss-­poor one if all his actions could be predicted. “Lamb chops tonight, Victoria.”
    Her eyes widened at his divergent order. My God, he was a hell of a dull bloke if switching from beef to lamb caused so much astonishment. He should wear his boots on his hands and see what kind of amazement that caused.
    â€œYes, my lord. And you, sir?”
    â€œLamb, too,” Miss Hawke answered. “No—­what’s the house special?”
    â€œBeefsteak, sir.”
    â€œI’ll have that.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    The barmaid hurried away to place their order. As she did, Miss Hawke sent Daniel a triumphant little look. No apologizing, and no thanking the server, either.
    He gave her a small nod. She was learning.
    But there was more for her to learn.
    â€œYou could’ve given her arse a pinch,” he advised.
    â€œThat’s a masculine delight I’ll gladly forgo,” she answered. At that very moment, the barmaid’s squeal could be heard across the room as some other gent decided to do the very thing Miss Hawke had declined.
    â€œIt’s a wonder castration isn’t more common,” Miss Hawke muttered.
    â€œThe perpetuation of the human race is grateful that it isn’t.”
    â€œBut not the arses of barmaids. I might not get much respect as a female writer, but at least my bottom is free of bruises. My pride, however, takes a regular drubbing.”
    â€œThen why do it?” he asked.
    â€œBecause I love