Page 21 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

Before he helped her into the curricle, he released her hand. “Just a moment.” He smiled and retrieved the flowers. “For you, Lady Molly.”

Her eyes widened behind her spectacles and a genuine smile teased her lips.

Any tension in her expression relaxed and she took a delicate sniff of one of the roses. “Thank you, my lord. Would you believe it if I told you this was the first time I’ve received flowers from a gentleman?” She flickered her gaze to his.

“I’d believe you only because I trust your word, but I find it hard to imagine, Lady Molly.” He leaned in slightly. “But I do love that I’m the first to give the gift.” He flashed his gaze from her lips to her eyes, then leaned back, as if he had a slight lapse in behavior that revealed his interest. He took a deep breath, as if needing to relax from being a nervous suitor, and gestured to her home. “You are free to take them with us or leave them here if you’d like.”

She studied him, then looked to the flowers. “Selfishly, I’d love to keep them but I’m afraid they will wilt, so I’ll leave them. One moment.” She excused herself, and before he could object and offer to do it himself, she was handing them to the butler and on her way back to the curricle.

Edwin was waiting and assisted her into the conveyance. “It’s a lovely day for the park, don’t you think, Lady Molly?” he offered as a start to their conversation.

He snapped the ribbons, and the curricle rolled forward toward Hyde Park.

“Indeed, we might actually make it an entire day without rain. Miracles still happen apparently.” Her tone was light, slightly breathless.

“They do.” He turned to her and smiled. “And a day without rain in London is a boon indeed.” He gave a small chuckle and introduced another topic. “And what do you prefer to do on those rare sunny days, Lady Molly?” He guided the horse around the corner and then glanced to her.

“I enjoy riding my mare though the park, and of course, if we’re in the country, I enjoy reading outside, and pestering our gardener.”

“Pestering?” Edwin asked, smiling.

“Yes, that’s what my mother would call it at least. I find it fascinating, we have over twenty varieties of roses at our country estate, and he’s worked hard to cause the blooms to grow quite large. It’s why I love roses so much, they remind me of home.” Her tone turned wistful.

“I see, then I’m glad I picked a flower that was meaningful to you,” he answered and meant it.

It wasn’t a practiced answer, which was slightly surprising to him, but welcome. In all likelihood, Lady Molly would become his wife, and it boded well to have a real connection with her, however small.

“What of you?”

Edwin glanced to her and tipped his head in question. “Pardon?”

“What do you like to do when the day is pleasant?”

Edwin guided the curricle beside the gate and entered the park. “Ride, play chess with my brother—though I rarely win. So perhaps I shouldn’t mention that. And—” He paused. This might be a good time to introduce the next topic. “Read. In fact…” He glanced to her to gauge her expression during his next words. “I read the newest information on Parliament reformation. Have you seen it?”

Her eyes lit up with interest as she nodded. “I know it’s not my place, but my father offered it, and I read it last week. Tell me, what are your thoughts, Lord Devon? I thought you were less interested in the government?”

As Edwin guided the curricle along the shaded path, he seized his opportunity to align himself with her interests.

“I must admit,” he said, measured but thoughtful, “I see merit in the argument for broader representation—particularly one more accurately reflecting population. These so-called rotten boroughs…” He gave a slight shake of his head. “They are something of a blemish upon the dignity of Parliament.”

He cast a careful glance toward Lady Molly to gauge her reaction.

She lifted her chin, just slightly. “I would have to agree with you. It is one of the few areas in which reform might take root without inciting undue alarm among those who fear change.”

At that, Edwin chuckled softly. “My dear Lady Molly, we are English. We do not change.”

She answered him with a wry smile. “Perhaps not readily. And yet, there was a time when we—or at least some would argue—changed the world.” Her gaze drifted ahead. “It is a pity we are less willing to improve ourselves.”

Edwin regarded her more closely now. “A bold statement. Some might argue that change invites revolution.” His tone shifted, quieter. “And we all know what befell France.”

Lady Molly’s expression sobered. “Indeed. But change and revolution are not synonymous. One need not lead to the other.”

Edwin guided the horse along a gentler curve of the path, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before shifting direction. “It fascinates you, does it not?”

A faint blush rose to her cheeks, though she held his gaze. “I have already confessed as much to you, my lord. If I presumed—my apologies.”

He shook his head at once. “No—no, not at all. You have not spoken out of turn.” His tone softened, more sincere than he intended. “I asked the question, and I find your enthusiasm … refreshing. It is no failing to care, Lady Molly. Indeed, more people ought to.”