Page 45 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

“And given his age,” Edwin added lightly, “recovery may take some time.”

Henley gave a low chuckle.

Hawthorne raised his teacup in a mock salute. “While I find your reasoning impeccable, I suspect that will not be the manner in which this evening concludes. Though I confess myself disappointed by the likelihood.”

“We may still hope,” Henley muttered.

“Do we know anything more of his purpose?” Edwin asked, taking a seat opposite Gabriel. “Why he requested to see Eliza?”

He would not call her Carver’s daughter. The man had forfeited any such claim.

“He said very little,” Gabriel replied. “Which makes me all the more suspicious.”

“Precisely,” Edwin said.

“I am relieved to know we are in agreement,” Hawthorne added. “It is a rare and curious sensation.”

“Should matters come to blows,” Edwin said, leaning back in his chair, “I am the only unattached party present. For the moment,” he added with a slight smile. “I have no desire to face either of your wives should you find yourselves in difficulty.”

Henley gave him a sharp look. “I will not allow you to have all the sport. Though I would be perfectly content to let you take the blame.”

“That does sound familiar,” Hawthorne murmured with a faint chuckle.

A moment later, the butler entered with a silver tray. The shift in the room was immediate. Conversation ceased.

Edwin felt the tension settle, sharp and expectant.

Hawthorne lifted the calling card from the tray and read the name. “Show him in,” he said calmly.

Edwin rose, moving behind the sofa, his hands braced along its back. He exchanged a brief look with both Henley and Hawthorne as they awaited Carver’s entrance.

Edwin studied him the moment he entered.

Tall. Wiry. Hair touched with gray. A neatly groomed mustache and dark brows that shadowed otherwise unreadable eyes.

He did not enter uncertainly.

He assessed.

Measured.

Calculated.

His gaze moved over each of them before he inclined his head. “Gentlemen.”

Edwin returned the acknowledgment with a curt nod. Hawthorne gestured toward a seat. Henley did not move.

“I imagine you are all quite curious as to my presence,” Carver continued. “Though I confess, I had expected to find Lady Eliza … not this … assembly.”

“She will join us shortly,” Hawthorne replied smoothly. “I wished to speak with you first.”

His tone was silk drawn over steel.

“Then by all means,” Carver said, spreading his hands as though in surrender—though nothing in his demeanor suggested humility. “How may I be of assistance?”

Edwin watched him carefully.

How had Eliza come from such a man?