Page 55 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

He guided her along the edge of the ballroom toward the balcony doors. The space beyond was not empty—guests drifted in and out—but it offered enough distance, enough quiet, to grant her privacy without impropriety.

The cool night air met them at once.

“Thank you,” Eliza whispered, though her voice trembled.

Edwin did not release her immediately.

Instead, he steadied her—his hand at her waist, subtle enough to remain proper, but firm enough to support her.

“Do not lose your composure,” he murmured softly. “You are safe. He cannot touch you here.” He turned her slightly, shielding her from the view of those inside. “You are not alone,” he continued, his voice low, steady. “You have family. You have protection. Nothing will come of this that you do not permit.”

Her gaze lifted to his.

Wide.

Searching.

And holding to him as though he were the only solid thing in the world.

Several other couples began to drift onto the balcony, as though a dance had just ended and they sought the cool relief of the night air. Their quiet moment grew louder, more crowded, the fragile privacy dissolving around them.

Edwin glanced about, searching for some alternative—somewhere that would remain proper, yet afford her the space she so clearly needed.

He spotted it then—a narrow hall just to the side, still within view of the balcony, but dimmer, less frequented. “Come with me.” He did not wait for her reply, only gently guiding her hand as he led her toward it.

His pace was unhurried, deliberate, drawing no undue attention, and once he was certain they were no longer the focus of idle observation, he drew her a few steps into the shadowed quiet.

“Here,” he said softly. “It will be quieter. You will not feel so observed.”

He turned toward her fully, one hand still at her arm, the other settling lightly at her elbow, steadying her without impropriety. “Take your time,” he murmured. “You are not required to be composed this very moment.”

He leaned slightly, lowering his gaze until she was forced to meet it.

“Breathe in … and out.”

Eliza obeyed, though her breath trembled. “It only makes me so angry,” she whispered. “He has no right—and yet I allow him to have influence over me. Over my thoughts.”

“No,” Edwin said gently. “You ought not grant him such power.” He offered the faintest smile, attempting reassurance. “And truly—what can he do? Langshire is aware of the connection, is he not? You said so yourself. The threat is minimal.”

Even as he spoke the words, something within him recoiled from them, sharp and unwelcome.

Eliza’s eyes widened.

Her breath caught.

“No,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes briefly.

“No … he does not know.”

Edwin stilled.

“Does not know?” he repeated slowly. “Langshire does not know of Lord Carver?”

A flicker of something colder moved through him then.

Fear.