Page 106 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

It was full.

He remained close, his breath unsteady, his presence grounding her as she slowly returned to herself, though something within her had changed—settled into place in a way she had not expected.

After a moment, he lifted slightly, bracing himself above her, his gaze moving over her face with quiet intensity, as though searching for something he needed to see.

He hesitated. “I know that is not how this began,” he said softly. His eyes lingered on her lips, then returned to hers. “But I think…” A breath. “I think I love you, Lady Eliza.”

Tears pricked unexpectedly at her eyes.

She looked at him fully, her voice softer than she intended when she answered. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” she admitted. A small breath followed. “I was afraid … that it was only me.”

Something in his expression shifted—relief, perhaps, or something deeper—and when he kissed her again, it was with renewed warmth, renewed certainty, as though whatever distance had remained between them had finally fallen away.

And this time, there was no question at all.

What had begun as necessity and convenience had become something neither of them could deny. Something real. Something remarkable.

Epilogue

Eliza sat with her morning tea, the delicate porcelain cup warm between her fingers as she scanned the latest gossip sheet, her eyes moving quickly over the familiar names and circulating rumors. The soft light of the morning filtered through the windows of Devon House, casting a gentle glow across the breakfast room, and for a moment, she allowed herself the simple pleasure of quiet.

It did not last long.

A smile began—slow, teasing, impossible to suppress—as her gaze caught upon two names printed side by side. She read them once. Then again.

And then, quite deliberately, she set her teacup down with a finality that drew her husband’s attention at once.

Edwin lowered his newspaper, his brow arching slightly as he regarded her over the top of the page.

“Well?” he asked, amusement already threading through his voice. “We have only been married three months. I should think you might still manage to surprise me from time to time.”

Eliza waved a hand at him, barely containing her delight. “No, you are truly not going to believe this,” she said, her eyes bright as she rose and crossed the room toward him.

He set his paper aside fully now, curiosity overtaking his composure as she handed him the gossip sheet.

He took it, scanning the print with practiced ease.

She watched him closely, waiting.

She knew the exact moment he saw it.

His brows rose. His gaze flicked to hers—then back to the page—then to her again. “Well,” he said at last, a hint of genuine surprise breaking through. “That I did not see coming.”

“You and me both,” she replied, laughing softly. “And yet—it does make a certain kind of sense, does it not?”

He considered that, his expression shifting as the initial surprise settled into something more thoughtful. “It does,” he admitted. “Rather perfectly, in fact.” A small smile followed. “Well then—good for them.” He gave a quiet chuckle, setting the paper aside. “It would seem everything turns out for the best.”

Eliza could not help herself. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head—but that, predictably, was not sufficient for him. With very little warning, his hands found her waist, and she gave a startled laugh as he drew her down onto his lap.

“Edwin,” she protested lightly, though her arms came easily around his shoulders.

“Langshire and Molly,” he said, glancing toward the discarded paper. “The banns have been announced?”

“Indeed.”

“Well,” he said, his gaze drifting—not to her eyes, but to her lips. “I must say, I believe I came away with the better outcome of all those various matchmaking efforts.”

Eliza smiled, her expression softening as she looked at him—truly looked. “I think I did as well,” she said quietly.