Page 94 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

She drew in a breath, realizing she had not yet answered. “Yes,” she said, her voice soft but certain. “Yes, I would be honored.” A small, almost unsteady laugh followed. “And I thank you—for asking. It was more important than I realized.” Her gaze lifted fully to his. “You have, it seems, understood me better than I understood myself.”

Relief—quiet but unmistakable—moved through his expression. “Then we are once more on solid ground,” he said.

“It would seem so,” she replied. “And do not forget—I believe I understand you rather well also, my lord.”

“Lady Eliza,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, his gaze shifting—just briefly—to her lips. “There is one additional question I should like to ask.”

Her breath caught. “If you are about to ask permission to kiss me,” she said softly, boldly, “then the answer is yes.”

A smile—slow, warm—formed. “Then we are, once again, in perfect agreement.”

He glanced about them—ensuring what little privacy could be claimed—

Then leaned in. This kiss was different. Not hurried. Not uncertain. Not accidental.

Chosen.

His lips met hers with a gentleness that held intention beneath it, a quiet certainty that drew her closer before she fully realized she had moved.

Her hand lifted, resting against him—steadying herself, or perhaps simply unwilling to remain untouched.

The world narrowed.

To warmth.

To breath.

To the quiet, undeniable awareness of him.

It ended softly.

He did not immediately step away.

Instead, he lingered—just enough that the absence of distance became its own kind of closeness. His forehead nearly brushed hers as he looked at her, his gaze searching in a way that felt … less practiced than anything that had come before.

“For something born of necessity,” he murmured, his voice low, almost thoughtful, “this begins to feel remarkably like indulgence.”

Her breath caught—just slightly.

“I had not realized,” he continued, quieter still, “how easily I might be persuaded to forget the distinction.”

Her thoughts scattered, her composure slipping just beyond reach. “Then we must take care,” she said softly, though there was no true warning in it. “Or we shall both forget ourselves entirely … Lord Devon.”

A quiet laugh escaped him—warm, unguarded. Something in his expression shifted, just slightly, as though he had allowed himself a step too far—and recognized it.

“I would remain here longer,” he said, more quietly now. “But we must consider what comes next.”

Reality returned.

Gently.

Inevitably.

“Yes,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

And yet as he led her back toward the crowd, as the fireworks continued to illuminate the night in brilliant fleeting bursts, Eliza found herself holding on to something far less fleeting.

This had begun as convenience. As necessity. As strategy. But it had become something else entirely. Something she had not planned. Something she had not controlled. Something that mattered. And as she walked beside him, she could not help but wonder if what called to her now…