Page 50 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

It was not Pere.

It was Lord Devon.

“Oh.” She blinked, then lowered her gaze at once. “Forgive me. I had assumed—”

He stepped forward, lifting a hand slightly. “No, do not apologize. I should have made my presence known sooner.” He regarded her with a warmth that was at once steady and deeply unsettling in its gentleness. “I came only to tell you that your brother has gone to fetch his wife, so that you might have her company if you wished for it. He seems to have judged the situation rather accurately.”

Eliza gathered her skirts, forcing herself into composure she did not quite feel. “It is all well, my lord. Thank you for your kindness—and for listening, though I fear I have spoken far too freely.”

His expression sharpened slightly—not with severity, but with focus, as though he were studying her with careful intent.

And yet, where her father’s scrutiny had been cold and calculating, his was something else entirely. Something warmer. Something that felt … protective.

It unsettled her far more than she wished to admit.

She turned her gaze away, only to feel another tear slip down her cheek. “Forgive me,” she whispered. “For my lack of composure.” She heard, rather than saw, him step closer.

“What he did in there,” Lord Devon said quietly, “was abominable. And you handled yourself with remarkable grace. There is nothing to forgive.” His voice softened further. “I, for one, wanted to applaud every word you spoke.” His hand lifted, gently touching her chin and guiding her gaze upward. “And you are not like him,” he continued. “You are warm. You care for those around you. Yes, you possess a mind for strategy—but that is not the same as how he wields it. Do not compare yourself where no comparison belongs.”

There was such quiet conviction in his tone that she found herself holding his gaze as though it was something solid—something she might steady herself against.

The warmth of his touch grounded her, soothed something she had not known how to name.

Without quite realizing it, her gaze drifted to his lips.

They seemed warm as well.

Inviting.

She did not notice the subtle tilt of his head until her own mirrored it.

And before she could gather a single rational thought—

His lips were on hers.

She had always imagined her first kiss would be a shock—a lightning strike that awakened something sharp and immediate.

But this—

This was something else entirely.

It was gentle.

Steady.

It soothed the parts of her that had been frayed raw. It warmed what had gone cold. It gathered her together where she had felt scattered.

As quietly as it began, it ended.

His hand fell away, and she realized only then that her eyes had been closed. When she opened them, she found his gaze already on hers.

Too many emotions moved through his expression to name.

They mirrored her own.

And then—

“I knew there was no way that whole meeting could end well.” Pere’s voice cut through the moment like a splash of cold water.