Page 48 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

Eliza gave a small, humorless shake of her head. “No matter how low I set the bar, you still manage to sink beneath it.” Her voice did not rise. “You should take your leave now.”

Carver let out a low chuckle, gave a shallow bow that mocked everyone present, and turned toward the door.

Moments later, he was gone.

Silence followed in his wake.

Only then did Eliza’s hands loosen. Her fingers slowly uncurled, and Edwin noticed the faint crescent marks left behind in her palms as the blood returned to her skin.

“Well done,” Hawthorne said quietly. “I am very proud of you.”

Eliza drew in a breath, unsteady, tight.

Edwin watched her closely, committing the moment to memory—the tremor in her lips, the tension in her shoulders, the fragile control she maintained.

“That makes one of us,” she said softly.

She paused, drawing another breath.

“Would you … excuse me. Just a moment.” She turned and left the room.

Edwin listened as her steps moved down the hall, into the library, the door closing softly behind her.

He remained where he stood for a moment, then looked back at Hawthorne and Henley. “That could have gone worse.”

Hawthorne shook his head. “It could have gone better. And I wish it had—for her sake.”

Edwin nodded. “Unfortunately,” he said quietly, “so do I.”

Chapter Eighteen

The door closed behind her with a soft, final click.

Eliza did not move at first.

She stood just inside the library, her back to the door, her hand still resting against the cool wood as though she required the support to remain upright. The quiet pressed in around her—thick, undisturbed, a stark contrast to the charged air she had just left behind.

Only then did she allow herself to breathe.

It came in unevenly. Too shallow. Too quick.

She drew in another breath—slower this time, forcing it deeper, steadying herself by will alone.

You did not falter.

The thought came sharp, immediate.

You did not break.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, the faint sting in her palms reminding her just how tightly she had held herself together. She flexed them once, then again, watching as the color returned to her skin.

It was done.

He was gone.

And yet—

The echo of his voice lingered.