Page 97 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

For the briefest moment, the room seemed to still.

Edwin straightened slowly.

He understood the play at once.

A duel would not simply threaten him—it would force him into public notice, attach his name to the accusation, give Carver precisely the audience he required.

Even refusal would carry consequence.

And acceptance—

Would give the man standing an opportunity. An opportunity he mustn’t ever have.

Edwin met his gaze. “No,” he said quietly. “It cannot. Not in this case.” He held his gaze. “The Baron Tonson and his wife were abroad for nearly a year—traveling through the Continent—returning, quite naturally, with an infant in their care. There was no cause for suspicion then, and there is none now. Their residence provided them with sufficient privacy that no one thought to question what required no questioning.” He leaned back slightly. “And now—years later—no one will.”

Carver’s expression hardened. “You presume a great deal,” he said.

“I rely upon what can be proven,” Edwin replied. “And upon what cannot be said without consequence.”

Carver’s eyes narrowed.

Edwin allowed the silence to stretch—just long enough.

Then—quietly, “You see, if you choose to make such an accusation, you do not simply implicate her.” He tilted his head slightly. “You declare a prior acquaintance.”

The words landed cleanly.

“And once declared,” Edwin continued. “That acquaintance will be examined. Closely.”

Carver did not move.

“You would be required to explain how you came by such certainty,” Edwin said. “Why you possess it. And why you have chosen this moment to reveal it.” Another pause. “You would be called upon to defend not only your claim—” He let the next words fall, precise and deliberate. “But your character.”

The silence deepened.

“And I,” Edwin added calmly, “would be more than willing to assist society in that inquiry.”

Carver’s jaw tightened.

The threat had shifted.

Turned.

“What you propose,” Carver said at last, “is … unwise.”

“What you propose,” Edwin returned, just as quietly, “is untenable.”

A long moment passed between them.

Then—slowly—Carver exhaled.

The tension did not break.

But it changed.

“You are a more difficult man than I had anticipated, Lord Devon.”

“I make it a practice,” Edwin said, “to be so when required.”