Page 44 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

Eliza glanced back at her. “It is not as though I may change anything now.” She drew in a breath. “Very well. I will follow my brother’s likely preference and remain here until they have had their discussion. Let them remind Lord Carver to mind his manners.”

Pere’s lips curved. “I rather like that plan. Though I confess, I would take some satisfaction in delivering that reminder myself. I have very little patience for that man—particularly after he all but seduced my mother.” She gave a small, rueful laugh. “Though I cannot claim my mother is always inclined toward good judgment. Families are … complicated.”

Eliza let out a soft laugh in return. “That they are. Though you and Gabriel do make something of a saintly pair by comparison.”

Pere smiled. “Do not let him hear you say so.” She squeezed Eliza’s hand once more. “I will come for you when it is time.”

Eliza nodded as Pere departed.

It was a strange thing, how time could move both swiftly and not at all.

Eliza checked her watch.

Fifteen minutes remained.

Lord Carver.

She refused to think of him as father. He had relinquished that claim the moment he chose to pretend she did not exist.

Which begged the question—

After nearly two decades of absence, why now?

There was always a reason.

And in fifteen minutes—

She would discover it.

Chapter Seventeen

Edwin was far too pleased to accept Gabriel’s invitation to Hawthorne House. When he learned that Lord Carver had dared to contact Eliza, he had seen red. He had little tolerance for the man on the best of days—let alone when considering the havoc Carver might wreak upon her life. He did not care to examine too closely the protective instinct that surged within him at the thought of Carver and Eliza in the same room. He was only thankful that both Henley and Hawthorne would be present. At least one of them would be capable of striking Carver if the situation demanded it. If they were fortunate—perhaps all three.

The more he considered the idea, the more it appealed.

There was merit in it.

A black eye—or two—and Carver would be forced to retreat from London for the remainder of the season. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, but to plant a much-deserved facer to the blackguard might be worth the trouble it would cause.

Yes. He rather liked the plan.

He intended to propose it the moment he arrived.

He reached Hawthorne House a full quarter hour before Carver was expected.

Upon being shown into the parlor, he found Henley already pacing, while Hawthorne sat comfortably upon the sofa, sipping tea with infuriating calm.

“Should the two of you not have exchanged roles?” Edwin asked dryly.

Henley paused midstep and shot him a glare. “I am merely recalling the sort of gentleman he is—particularly after our last dealings with him regarding our mother. I do not wish to be here, and I cannot trust myself not to let matters devolve into fisticuffs.”

Edwin arched a brow. “I was, in fact, about to suggest precisely that.”

Henley stilled.

“Consider it,” Edwin continued. “If Carver were to acquire a black eye—or two—” He cast a glance toward Hawthorne, who lifted his teacup slightly in silent encouragement. “He would be forced to quit London. A necessary retreat to the country while he recovers.”

A pause.