Page 53 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

For her.

He reminded himself firmly: this was precisely what they were both meant to be doing.

Playing their parts.

When the music began, he turned to Lady Molly with a polite smile. “Would you care to dance?”

“It would delight me.”

They joined the set for a Scottish reel, and for a time, the movement and structure of the dance allowed him a measure of ease. Each step followed predictably into the next. Each turn required no thought.

It was, in a way, a relief.

Order. Expectation. No risk of misstep beyond the merely social.

As the dance ended, Edwin escorted Lady Molly from the floor—

And saw him.

Lord Carver.

He stood at the edge of the ballroom, not idling as so many gentlemen did, but watching. Measuring. His attention fixed with a precision that spoke not of idle curiosity, but intent.

Edwin followed the line of his gaze—

And felt something tighten, sharp and immediate, in his chest.

Eliza.

She stood with Langshire, engaged in what appeared, from a distance, an entirely pleasant exchange—poised, composed, every inch what she ought to be.

Too perfect.

Too visible.

Edwin’s gaze flicked back to Carver.

There it was again—that look. Not recognition alone, but calculation. The sort of quiet assessment a man made when weighing advantage. When considering what might be gained … or exposed.

Edwin did not know the particulars—only the pattern.

Men like Carver did not fix their sights upon a lady without purpose. And purpose, in such men, was rarely benign.

Something had shifted in his expression. Something decided.

He was moving.

Toward them.

A cold instinct rose in Edwin at once—swift, certain, and not entirely rational.

No. Not here.

Not like this.

Without hesitation, Edwin returned Lady Molly to her parents with a brief apology, his manner smooth enough to disguise the abruptness of his departure. He did not wait for their response—nor for Lady Molly’s.

He was already turning, already crossing the room.