Page 35 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

Edwin followed, though he kept a measured distance. “Me?” he asked.

She spun back toward him and closed the distance between them with surprising speed, jabbing a finger sharply into his chest.

He glanced down at it, then back at her. “May I ask what offense I have committed?” He intended the question lightly.

She did not receive it so.

“You,” she said again, pressing harder this time, her composure fracturing further with each word. “You made me question everything.”

Edwin’s brows lifted slightly. “Did I?”

“Yes,” she said, the words coming faster now, less refined. “You made me question my own approach—my own … tactics.” She grimaced faintly at the word. “And because of that, I second-guessed everything. I overthought every word, every look—everything.” She turned away sharply, throwing her hands upward before facing him again. “And when Lord Langshire called today, he did not propose.”

The words landed between them.

Edwin exhaled, not unkindly. “He will,” he said. “You have nothing to concern yourself with on that front. Is that truly what has you so unsettled? I had thought it something of greater consequence.” He allowed himself a relaxed posture, slipping his hands into his pockets.

It was a mistake.

Her expression darkened at once. “Did you not hear a word I said?”

“I heard you,” he replied. “And I am telling you that you are borrowing worry that does not belong to you. You have known the man scarcely a fortnight. Even you cannot manipulate matters so quickly—though I will concede, you are progressing at an impressive pace.”

“I cannot believe you would say such things,” she shot back, stepping closer. “Particularly when you are doing precisely the same.”

Edwin’s attention sharpened. “Am I?”

“Yes,” she said. “You are courting a perfectly respectable woman—not because you admire her, but because she suits your purposes. You intend to trade her regard for the restoration of your reputation.”

The words struck more forcefully than he expected. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Her gaze did not waver.

“I thought as much.”

Edwin stepped closer. “Truth,” he said, his voice tightening, “is rarely so simple.”

“And yet I find it remarkably clear,” she returned.

Another step.

She did not retreat.

“Truth,” he continued, more quietly now, “is often shaped by perspective.”

“And by convenience,” she said.

They stood far too close now.

Close enough that Edwin became aware—suddenly and entirely—of the change in her.

Her voice no longer carried that careful modulation. Her thoughts came too quickly to refine. Every emotion crossed her face before she could contain it, leaving nothing hidden and nothing softened.

It should have made her appear less composed.

Less desirable.