Page 83 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

Henley gave a low, amused sound.

Dinner proceeded with natural ease until the second course was nearly finished.

Edwin leaned slightly toward her as conversation drifted elsewhere. “I see you were not raised under the strict expectation that one must clear one’s plate,” he murmured. “Do turnips offend you, Lady Eliza?”

She cast him a look of mock irritation. “They offend me greatly,” she said. “And though I was once forced to endure them, I now enjoy the freedom of refusal.” She glanced at his plate. “You, however, appear quite devoted to them.”

“I am,” he said solemnly. “And should the need arise, I am prepared to assist you with yours.”

She laughed—and slid her plate toward him. “Then by all means.”

He raised a brow. “You doubt me?”

“I would never.”

He leaned across and, with deliberate seriousness, took one of her turnips. “Satisfied?” he asked as he chewed the turnip, somehow it tasted sweeter coming from her plate.

“Entirely.” She arched a brow, clearly amused.

It was only then that he became aware of the silence. He looked up. Every eye at the table was upon them.

Hawthorne appeared faintly perplexed.

Pere looked delighted.

Anna wore a knowing smile.

Henley simply shook his head.

Edwin glanced back at Eliza and, for the briefest moment, wondered if perhaps … they had crossed a line he had not yet recognized.

Chapter Twenty-Six

It was after dinner, when the gentlemen had retired for cigars and brandy, that Pere made a small motion with her hand to Eliza from across the parlor. She did not mouth the words, but the meaning was clear.

Eliza excused herself from Anna and followed. Pere led her just beyond the doorway, into the quiet of the hall, and turned with a secretive grin.

“I know what is afoot,” she whispered. “Neither of you are pulling the wool over my eyes. I saw it first—and I only wish you to know that I am very happy for you.”

Eliza’s brows drew together slightly. She was not entirely certain what Pere referred to. Their impending marriage, perhaps?

“Yes,” she said carefully. “I am very thankful to be strengthening the ties between our families. You are such a blessing to me, Pere.” And she meant it.

Pere blinked—then gave a small, incredulous laugh. “No, you silly goose—that is not what I am speaking of. You and Edwin.” She tilted her head, studying her. “You are so calculated when you speak of one another. Cold. Clinical. But when you are together…” She trailed off.

Something shifted in her expression.

“You do not see it, do you?”

“See what?” Eliza asked, more sharply than she intended.

Pere shook her head lightly, as though dismissing the thought. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. It has been a very eventful evening.” She paused, then added with a faintly mischievous smile, “Why not take a turn in the courtyard? The air is cool, and I imagine a few moments alone would not come amiss—particularly after so much planning and … scheming.”

The suggestion was not unwelcome. The night air, the quiet—space to think. And, though she would not have admitted it, to untangle what Pere had implied.

“Yes,” Eliza said. “That is a very good idea. I believe I shall.”

Pere nodded once, satisfied.