Page 31 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

Gabriel’s expression held a knowing quality that Edwin found vaguely disconcerting, while Pere looked openly amused. Anna was struggling to conceal a smile, and Henley regarded the scene with the thoughtful consideration of a man who had just come to an unexpected conclusion.

Edwin frowned slightly.

He was not certain what they had seen.

Nor was he convinced he wished to know.

Chapter Twelve

How dare he.

Eliza was still reeling from her conversation with Edwin that afternoon. To accuse her of manipulation was—well, it struck far too close to truth, and she did not like that. She did not like it at all.

Yes, she was calculated.

But it was a necessity.

Did he not understand that? Surely, he must. The world did not afford women the same liberties it granted men. He could choose as he pleased. She, on the other hand, existed at the mercy of being chosen.

It was not her fault that he had selected someone so … unremarkable.

Though, to be fair, he had never said so.

Still, in her own estimation, Lady Molly’s sparkling qualities were somewhat … limited.

If that was his preference, however, then so be it.

As the hour for her at-home visitors approached, Eliza forced herself to set those thoughts aside. Lord Langshire would arrive shortly, and after her brother’s conversation with him the previous evening, she felt certain that a proposal was imminent.

If she could secure that proposal today, then everything would settle.

All uncertainty.

All fear.

The tension that had been gnawing at her—quiet but persistent, like a hunger that never fully eased—would finally be resolved.

She knew she was being dramatic. Her brother and sister-in-law would never allow her to fall into true hardship.

But she did not wish to rely on their benevolence. She wished to secure her own future.

With renewed determination, she changed into a navy blue day dress that accentuated precisely what it ought, then made her way down to the parlor where the pianoforte stood waiting.

Her fingers felt unsteady as she arranged her music, her pulse quickened not with excitement, but with something closer to anxiety. Pere greeted her from her seat in the parlor, already prepared in her role as chaperone.

“Good afternoon. You look absolutely lovely.”

“Thank you,” Eliza replied, smoothing her skirt.

“I am quite certain you will arrest Lord Langshire’s attention.”

Eliza gave a small nod, then turned toward the pianoforte. She selected her music carefully—something engaging, but not overly complex. A Mozart piece that would display skill without excess, followed by a Bach fugue.

Her lips curved faintly as she considered the possibility of attempting the inverted piece they had joked about.

It would be charming, memorable even. Exactly the sort of moment that lingered.

And yet—unbidden—Edwin’s words returned.