The Earl's Bargain (Historical Regency Romance) by Cheryl Bolen

under the
heavy rug, she finally did as Lord Wycliff. She drifted off to
sleep.
    * * *
    When Harry awoke, Louisa was asleep. He was
unable to remove his gaze from her. He had seen many beautiful
woman asleep beside him, but none compared to Louisa Phillips.
There was an innocence about her, not just because she was fair and
petite and young looking, but also because of the naivete of her
hopes for reform and because of her true compassion.
    Which made him even more ashamed of his
deception. She was only now beginning to trust a man, and he was
about to turn around and blow up the little ground he had gained
for his gender.
    Though Louisa Phillips professed to eschew
the strictures of society, Harry was determined not to blacken her
reputation.
    He tuned his attention to the matter of
securing a room at an inn. Since the rain had seriously impeded
their progress, they would probably be forced to spend several
nights in posting inns. How were they to do that while sparing her
reputation?
    An idea came to him, but he knew the widow
would not like it.
    He apprised her of it when she awoke. He had
watched her awaken, gathering the rug tightly about her as she
pulled herself to a sitting position. When she looked across at
him, she blushed. Did the prospect of a man watching her sleep
cause her embarrassment?
    "Rather cold, is it not?" he said
casually.
    "Would that we had a hot brick," she
lamented. "But I should not be so selfish when the poor coachman
has none of the luxuries we enjoy."
    "Do you always direct your thoughts to the
plight of others who are less fortunate than you?"
    She gave him a most straightforward stare.
"Someone must, my lord."
    "And you prefer that someone be a person in
a position to do something to evoke change?"
    "Of course. That's what I've worked toward
for a very long time."
    "And I shall be your instrument."
    She nodded. He liked the way her blue eyes
danced like those of a child impatient to open a present.
    "Are you not exceedingly cold without a rug,
my lord?"
    His pulse quickened as he thought of sitting
next to her, sharing her rug. "It is rather unpleasant."
    "Then you thought to share the rug with
me?"
    A coy smile slanted across his face. "I
did."
    He enjoyed watching the guilt wash over
her.
    "Very well," she said with reluctance. "You
may move to this side, but I will not have any part of you touching
me. Is that clear?"
    "Like a bell, madam," he said as he stood to
a stooped position and moved to her seat.
    "I believe we need to
discuss the matter of rooms at the inn," he said. "I know you don't
care a fig about the opinion of the ton , but you need to realize that in
order to work with them you have to earn their respect."
    "What does that have to do with rooms at the
inn?"
    "Were it to be discovered that we traveled
together, I fear your good name would be ruined."
    She gazed at him through narrowed eyes.
"What, then, do you propose, my lord?"
    "That we use other names. Registering as,
say, a Mr. and Mrs. Smith would neither attract attention nor draw
scrutiny. On the other hand, were we to secure separate rooms under
other names, any intercourse between us would be sure to draw
censure."
    Her eyes rounded. "You're proposing that we
sleep together?" There was disbelief and irritation in her
voice.
    "I promise not to touch."
    "And I'm supposed to trust you?" she
questioned. "My dear Lord Wycliff, you are a man, and I've yet to
find one worthy of trust."
    "I don't know what else I can say or do to
warrant your acceptance."
    "The matter is out of your hands."
    He leaned back into the window, allowing
cold air to rush beneath the rug in the gap between them.
    She haughtily pulled the rug away from him
and hugged it to herself.
    * * *
    Night came early. Just before five in the
afternoon, the coach pulled into an inn yard in Reading. It had
taken them all day to travel forty miles. Despite that the rain was
still coming down in sheets, Louisa would be happy to stretch her
legs.
    And to get away