Page 60 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

It was a difficult truth, and the one goal she’d worked to attain these past few weeks was now dissolved. But there was nothing for it, this was the path ahead now. There was no alternative.

She steadied herself. “There is only one matter remaining.” She arched a brow.

Edwin closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled. “Gabriel.”

Eliza almost smiled. “At least Pere will not be entirely surprised.”

“No,” Edwin said dryly. “And I suspect she will embellish the tale regardless of what we tell her.”

“Then we shall allow it,” Eliza replied. “And incorporate whatever proves useful.”

He gave a short huff of agreement. “I am not looking forward to that conversation,” he admitted. “But it must be done.”

“Yes,” she said. “And quickly. We are likely already missed.”

He nodded. “We tell him what is necessary,” Edwin said. “No more. We promise explanation later.”

“And in the meantime,” Eliza added, “we begin the performance.”

The first notes of the supper waltz drifted through the air.

Eliza felt her eyes widen, and Edwin’s lips twitched, they had both heard it, and more so, understood the importance of it.

It began now.

Where she had been meant to meet Langshire—

Where he had been meant to meet Lady Molly—

Everything had now shifted.

Edwin offered his arm.

“Lady Eliza,” he said, his tone composed once more, “may I have the honor of this dance?”

She placed her hand upon his arm. “Yes,” she replied.

And together, they returned to the ballroom.

As he drew her into the waltz, his hand settling at her waist, guiding her into motion, Eliza felt the world tilt—not into uncertainty, but into something far more dangerous.

Not chaos.

Not chance.

But choice.

She had entered the evening hoping to leave betrothed.

She had simply never imagined—

That it would be to Lord Devon.

Chapter Twenty-One

As Edwin led Eliza onto the ballroom floor, he could not shake the sensation that all eyes were upon them.

He knew, rationally, that such attention was unlikely—that most had not yet noticed anything at all. And yet, what they were doing felt too large, too consequential to pass unseen. It carried a weight that seemed, in itself, to draw notice.