Page 65 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

“Lord Devon is following us home,” Hawthorne said after a moment. “And we will be having what I assume will be a rather lengthy discussion regarding tonight’s events.”

Eliza inclined her head. “Very good. I believe, once you hear the full account, you will find we made the best possible decision.”

Gabriel gave a single measured nod. “I hope so,” he said quietly. “Though it is rather too late to alter it now. You do understand that?”

“Yes,” Eliza replied. “And I made each decision with complete clarity.”

He exhaled slowly. “Very well.”

Pere studied him for a moment, then turned back to Eliza. “I am missing a great deal, am I not?”

“Yes,” Eliza said gently. “But not for long.”

Pere sighed. “I never thought it possible that the journey home could feel so lengthy. I find I am remarkably impatient. Could you perhaps begin—”

“No,” Hawthorne interrupted. “I wish to hear it from both of you.” He paused. “Though I will say—I would prefer to speak with Lord Devon first.”

Sensing the shift in her husband’s mood, Pere fell silent for the remainder of the ride.

It was, mercifully, a short one.

Eliza used the time to order her thoughts—to rehearse, to refine, to ensure that when the moment came, she would speak clearly and without hesitation.

It would be a long evening.

And the more precise she could be, the better it would go.

When they arrived at Hawthorne House, Lord Devon’s carriage pulled up directly behind theirs.

As Gabriel assisted her down, Eliza glanced back.

Edwin had already stepped out.

He met her gaze, offering a warm, steady smile and a slight nod before extending his hand.

She took it.

Together, they entered the house, Pere and Gabriel following close behind.

Inside the foyer, Hawthorne shrugged out of his greatcoat and turned to the butler. “Please have tea and biscuits sent to the parlor,” he said. “And inform Cook we shall require something more substantial. A cold repast will suffice.”

The butler inclined his head and departed at once.

Hawthorne turned back—his attention settling squarely on Edwin.

Eliza felt Pere’s hand slip gently around her arm.

“Come,” Pere murmured. “We shall wait in the parlor. Let them … sort themselves first.”

Eliza nodded, though she cast one last look toward Edwin.

He met it, offering a quiet reassurance in the form of a single steady nod.

As she turned away, she heard Hawthorne’s voice behind her—low, controlled, and edged with something sharper. “Tell me it was not necessary for the reasons I believe it was necessary.”

Eliza resisted the urge to look back.

Edwin’s reply came calm and measured. “It was necessary. Though not for the reasons you suspect. At least—not entirely.” A pause. “It is a long story. But one, I believe, will have a satisfactory conclusion—should you be willing to hear it.”