Page 61 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

Eliza settled into the frame of the waltz as though she had been born to it. She lifted her chin with quiet authority, her expression composed into something regal, her gaze meeting his with a warmth that felt both practiced and entirely convincing.

He followed her lead at once.

Everything now had to be precise. Every movement intentional. Every glance measured.

It was not enough to be seen.

They had to be believed.

Edwin drew her just slightly closer than propriety strictly allowed—a subtle shift, but deliberate. A mark of possession.

Eliza’s expression flickered for the briefest moment before she understood—and leaned into it.

“Anything we can add,” Edwin murmured, his voice low and even, “any layer we build into the story, will serve us. Even something as small as standing a fraction too close. You know every gossip-loving dowager is already watching. They will carry it into tomorrow, and when they learn we are to be married—” He let the word fall softly between them. “It will confirm everything they believed themselves clever enough to notice before anyone else.”

Eliza arched a brow. “Masterful,” she replied quietly. “I approve of the direction of your thinking.”

Her gaze flickered—just for a moment—past his shoulder. A thousand emotions moved through her expression in that single glance. Remorse, and regret, and then resolve.

“Langshire?” Edwin asked.

He didn’t fault her for the emotions. They were about to cause a distinct upheaval, and there would be a cost to those who deserved it least. She gave the smallest nod, then returned her full attention to him, her expression softening into something that would appear, to any observer, like quiet delight.

“Yes,” she murmured. “He is watching. And he does not look pleased, not that I would expect anything less. However, it is difficult—I do not wish to hurt him. He deserves better than that.” Her smile did not falter, even if her eyes gave away the truth of her words.

Edwin heard the note beneath. To anyone else, they would appear engaged in flirtation—an intimate, charming exchange.

In truth, they were constructing a future in real time, brick by careful brick, determined to save one another from ruin. Counting the cost to others, and, in a way, mourning what would certainly hurt others.

Eliza’s gaze shifted again, this time just beyond him. “When we turn,” she said lightly, “Lady Molly appears as though she might cheerfully dispatch you with a dull knife. I would advise against any private conversation this evening.” There was a thread of amusement beneath her tone—but also caution. “I cannot blame her.” She paused and added, “I had not taken her for a violent creature. Though I confess, I rather regret that I shall not have the opportunity to know her better. I believe we might have suited as friends. That ship has certainly sailed.”

Edwin let out a quiet breath of laughter. “I am learning a great many new things about you,” he said softly.

“And you shall learn more,” she replied. “As I shall of you. Do you see Hawthorne?”

Edwin turned them smoothly through the next measure—and caught sight of Lady Molly. Her expression was furrowed slightly behind her spectacles. He read hurt in her gaze, and it pierced his heart. Yes, she deserved better. She always deserved better. Maybe it was for the best. Although he doubted she’d see it that way. His attention flickered to her father, standing beside her, his expression severe, protective. That might be a problem later. He’d need to smooth his pride, and soon.

He answered Eliza, though his gaze lingered a fraction too long on Lady Molly. “No—but I do indeed understand your assessment.” He exhaled slowly. “I have never claimed fear of the fairer sex, but I do maintain a healthy respect. That respect has increased considerably.”

“Then I did not mislead you,” Eliza said gravely.

“No,” he replied. “You did not.”

He allowed his scrutiny to move once more, scanning the room. “But I have found Hawthorne. Near the refreshment table. When the waltz ends, I will take you to Pere and speak with him.” As he spoke, he maintained the illusion perfectly—his expression attentive, his attention lingering over her features with carefully measured admiration, his hold steady and close.

Eliza matched him step for step.

A soft blush colored her cheeks at just the right moments. Her lashes lowered when she spoke, her posture relaxed into his with subtle confidence.

It was, Edwin realized, masterful.

And deeply unsettling.

It required effort not to falter when he caught sight of Lord Carver.

“By the balcony,” Edwin murmured. “He is watching.”

Eliza did not look immediately.