Page 37 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

Nothing more.

It must be regarded as such.

And yet, even as she repeated the thought, she found it did not settle as cleanly as it ought.

That, more than anything, was what troubled her.

It was at dawn she gave up the charade of sleep and dressed for the day. Carefully, she chose her dress, with intention, she directed how her hair was to be styled, and with purpose, she made a few small adjustments to each; everything was deliberate. It gave her comfort. It reminded her that there was an order to life—especially when it felt so entirely out of her control.

Which was why the whole situation with Lord Devon had her mind spinning. She never lost control, nor did she give it up, yet the whole situation occurred outside of her rules. It could never happen again, not that anything happened, but the fact that it almost did—and she wouldn’t have stopped it—made her blood run cold.

There could be no mistakes.

She was so close to freedom—a new name, a new identity. She would not throw it away on a momentary lapse of self-control, no matter how tempting it might be.

Resolute, she stepped into the hall and made her way down to the breakfast room.

The house was quiet. Only the soft movements of a few servants and the flicker of candlelight kept her company as she took her seat at the table. There was a stillness to it—a restfulness—she welcomed.

She tried to quiet her thoughts, to simply exist within the peace of the moment.

What would it be like to live without calculation? Without the constant need to anticipate, to adjust, to protect what must never be discovered?

To simply enjoy life.

To have a child.

The thought was almost too wonderful to put into words.

A child who would never have to measure every word before speaking it. Who would never learn, as she had, that belonging could be withdrawn as gently—and as irrevocably—as it had once been offered.

Her fingers tightened slightly about the edge of the table before she forced them to ease.

As long as she could remember, she had lived with careful intention—every step measured, every future weighed. To imagine that burden lifted, left behind entirely…

It felt too fragile to speak aloud. As though naming it might invite correction—some quiet, careful reminder that such things were not meant for her.

She poured herself tea, pausing as the steam rose, breathing in its warmth.

Oh, to be at rest.

“You look thoughtful this morning.”

Pere’s voice broke gently into her thoughts as she entered the room.

Eliza gave a small, delicate shrug. “Perhaps.”

“You are up early,” Pere observed.

“I might say the same of you.”

Pere smiled as she moved toward the table. “Yes, well—I did not sleep quite as well as I had hoped. Though I must confess, your brother does snore from time to time.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I shall not hold it against him, however, as he remains quite convinced that I do the same. Which I do not believe to be true.”

Eliza laughed softly.

How she loved being here—with her brother, with Pere. They had become a family she had never expected to find. And yet, some small, wary part of her still waited for the moment when such ease might be gently qualified, delicately explained away—never taken, never declared, simply … adjusted.

But for now, she allowed herself the comfort of it.