Good Earl Hunting Read Online Free PDF Page A

decide where the game would begin.
    For a long moment she contemplated him. "A wolf, perhaps," she finally mused, "away from his pack and on the lookout for easy prey."
    "If that were so, a lioness would have little trouble trouncing me."
    "True enough. You do seem a bit more formidable than that."
    Ah, was that a compliment? He didn't dare say that aloud, or she might kick him. Instead he remained where he was, close enough to touch without doing so. He wanted to kiss her, he realized, his gaze on her thoughtfully-pursed mouth. Slowly he took a half step closer. He risked a swift glance at the yard beyond her. A lone groom exercised a horse in the paddock, but aside from that they seemed to be quite alone. Good. That had become a rare thing for him. Even with his additional efforts at privacy he had no idea how long it would be before one of the hounds discovered the fox – or wolf, according to her – out of his den.
    "Then we're in agreement that I'm a man?" he pursued, just resisting the urge to brush a finger along her cheek. He generally wasn't so sentimental, but he knew his interest had nothing to do with her father sponsoring a fox hunt on behalf of her reputedly irresistible older sister. Those things had merely given him the excuse to come visiting. For a fleeting moment he wondered what he would have done if there had been no fox hunt and no sister to supposedly lure him into Devonshire.
    "I will agree with that,” she finally said. “And even though you haven't yet convinced me whether you are a good man or a bad man, I will concede that you might perhaps be less...disagreeable than I first thought."
    "You damn me with faint praise, my dear," he returned, offering her a grin.
    She blinked. "You quote Alexander Pope, my lord?"
    "When the phrase fits. I've also been known to take a tilt or two at Shakespeare after a glass of whiskey." Geoffrey edged closer still, under the guise of examining the stable wall for...nails or something. "At the Carmichael soiree I had chits being catapulted at me, and I responded badly. I hope it hasn't cost me the chance to make the acquaintance and friendship of the one interesting woman in attendance. And no, I’m not talking about your sister.”
    For a long moment Theodora Meacham gazed at him, her green eyes direct and serious. "I still can’t decide if you’re playing with me.”
    "I am not playing with you, Miss Meacham. I give you my word.”
    She took a step forward, wrapping her hand around his arm. Her fingers shook a little where they rested on his brown sleeve. "Then I think we should go for a walk, my lord."

Chapter Four
    T HEODORA DIDN’T KNOW whether to call it irony or simply an amusing happenstance that a lone fox trotted across the walking path the moment she and Lord Vashton passed the end of the hedgerow. Or she supposed it might even have been a warning; evidently the earl was hunting more than foxes in Devonshire this autumn.
    She studied his profile all over again, reassessing what she’d thought were her definitive opinions of the man. Arrogant or not, he was indeed handsome, with dark hair that brushed his collar, midday blue eyes, and a mouth that when relaxed was pleasant, and when it curved was...breathtaking. Her argument, however, had never been with his appearance, with his tall frame or broad shoulders or long, elegant fingers.
    “Why are you staring at my ear?” he asked, his gaze following the fox into the woods at the edge of the pathway.
    “I was wondering if you meant to charge after the poor fox,” she improvised. However...unbelievable his interest in her seemed to be, she would never discover anything if she couldn’t move beyond his statement. Yes, she could be suspicious, but this conversation was indeed happening.
    “Not on foot.” He cleared his throat. “And might I suggest that we speak the truth? We’ve evidently already suffered through several misunderstandings.”
    Well. She couldn’t precisely argue with that. Of