Page 92 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

Not anticipating the next move.

She was simply walking beside him. And, for the first time since this arrangement had begun, enjoying the moment. She drew in a quiet breath.

The sky lit with a brilliant explosion of color, and Eliza gasped, her gaze lifting instinctively as light shattered across the darkness in dazzling brilliance. Around her, the crowd responded in unison—soft cries of delight, laughter, the collective intake of breath as another cascade of gold and crimson burst overhead.

For a moment, she allowed herself to be entirely taken by it.

She turned. Not to the spectacle above but to him. She had wanted to see his expression—to witness, perhaps, some reflection of the wonder she herself felt.

Instead—she found him watching her. Something shifted within her.

Warmth spread, quiet and immediate, settling low and steady before rising into something more uncertain—something anticipatory.

It was not unpleasant. Not at all. But it was unfamiliar.

“You are far more entertaining to watch than the fireworks,” he said softly, a hint of amusement threading through his voice. “Have you never seen them before?”

She gave a small laugh, glancing briefly back toward the sky before returning her gaze to him. “I have not,” she admitted. “You must remember—I am not from London.”

Another burst of light illuminated the space between them, casting shifting color across his features.

“It is quite grand,” she continued. “Louder than I expected—but no less beautiful for it.”

He nodded, though his attention lingered on her rather than the sky.

And she—she felt it.

Another explosion sounded overhead, and instinctively her fingers tightened against his arm.

At once, his hand shifted, covering hers—steady, warm, deliberate.

“Come with me,” he said quietly. “Do not worry—we shall still see everything.”

She did not hesitate. She nodded, allowing him to guide her through the gathered crowd, weaving between clusters of onlookers who stood transfixed beneath the spectacle.

The further they moved, the softer the press of bodies became, the noise diffusing just enough to create the illusion of space without ever leaving the public eye.

He led her toward the edge of the lawn, where a low hedge framed the boundary of the gardens. There, the crowd thinned. There, the world felt … different. Not private. But not entirely shared.

He paused, glancing once about them—not obviously, not in a way that would draw attention—but with quiet awareness. Then he turned back to her. Eliza felt her breath catch. Why had he brought her here?

A thought surfaced—quick, unguarded.

Did he intend to kiss her?

Her lips tingled at the very notion, a warmth rising that she did not attempt—could not quite manage—to suppress.

It was strange.

She had spent so long mastering her reactions, guiding them, shaping them into something useful—something controlled.

And yet now, they moved ahead of her; unbidden and alive.

He took both of her hands in his. “I have failed to complete one important task,” he said.

His expression shifted into that familiar, slightly lopsided smile—one she had come, somewhat dangerously, to anticipate.

To enjoy.