Page 23 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

As she studied him, Edwin felt a quiet sense of assurance settle over him.

This had been a test.

And he had passed it.

He was certain of it.

Now, all that remained was the courtship.

If all proceeded as it should, Lady Molly would be Lady Devon by the end of the season.

It was everything he had intended…

Was it not?

Chapter Ten

The Hammerstein ball was a quieter, more exclusive affair than most.

Gabriel had been discussing it with his wife as their carriage rolled toward the event. “I think society is still quite curious about us, my love,” he said, glancing at Pere.

Pere swatted his arm lightly. “I am certain they are. After all, you have a reputation I am doing my very best to redeem.”

Gabriel chuckled under his breath. “And how I admire your efforts. Though I am not entirely convinced they are working.”

“You are perfectly charming tonight,” she returned.

“You prefer me charming.”

“I prefer you presentable.”

Eliza glanced away, feeling very much the third party to an intimate exchange. “I am still present,” she interjected dryly.

“I had not forgotten,” Gabriel said, flashing her a quick wink. “But this will suit us well. The guest list is quite selective—fewer people, fewer eyes.” He paused, then added, “Langshire is expected to attend. I imagine that will be of particular interest to you, Eliza.”

“It is,” she admitted. “And Lord Chapman?”

Pere shook her head. “He will not be in attendance. As a baron, his rank is not … sufficiently distinguished for Lady Hammerstein’s preferences. She favors only the most elevated company.

“Which now apparently includes us,” Pere added, arching a brow at her husband.

“Apparently so,” Gabriel said easily. “Or we are simply the subject of her curiosity.”

“Well, a reformed notorious rake is certainly of interest,” Pere said with a teasing smile.

Eliza allowed herself a small breath. “Then I am grateful it will be a smaller gathering.”

It had become suffocating—the constant awareness of herself. Every word measured. Every movement observed. The knowledge that dozens of eyes might be watching, waiting for the smallest misstep.

Tonight, at least, there would be fewer. She would focus on Langshire.

Not the entire ton.

As they arrived, Gabriel assisted her from the carriage before offering his arm to his wife.

Eliza drew in a quiet, steadying breath and stepped into the candlelit glow of Lady Hammerstein’s residence. The scent of beeswax and roses filled the air. A footman pressed a glass of champagne into her hand after their names were announced. The ballroom was indeed less crowded than most—space enough to move, to breathe. Not the usual crush of bodies, but a refined swirl of silk, color, and quiet conversation.

“If you glance to your left,” Pere murmured beside her, “you will see Langshire.”