Page 16 of An Alliance with the Earl (Marrying for Love #5)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T he rain had not relented since luncheon, a steady pattering against the windows that left the house party confined within the walls of Ivy Manor. In any other circumstance, Edward might have been grateful for an excuse to escape the frivolities of outdoor amusements, but after this morning’s exchange with Lady Olivia in the conservatory, he had found himself in an unusual state of unrest.

Thus, he had retreated to the billiards room, hoping the rhythmic click of the cue ball against the others might soothe the inexplicable irritation brewing within him. He chalked his cue, lined up a shot, and sent the red ball spinning into a corner pocket. It did little to ease his thoughts.

He had wanted Lady Olivia to admit something—anything. But she remained steadfast, as though even entertaining the notion of affection, of real attachment, was dangerous to her very existence. It should not have mattered to him. And yet …

“You look as if you are attempting to punish that poor billiard ball.”

Edward smirked and straightened, glancing toward the doorway where Lord Remington stood, his arms folded across his chest in an expression of idle amusement.

“Merely refining my technique,” Edward said, returning to his game.

Remington entered the room, strolling toward the other side of the table. “Is that what you call it? Because from where I stand, it looks as though you are trying to work off some unspoken frustration.” He leaned against the table and gave Edward a pointed look. “Would it have anything to do with a certain Lady Olivia Westfield?”

Edward exhaled sharply, aiming another shot. “If you mean to provoke a reaction from me, you will be disappointed.”

Remington chuckled. “Come now, Cheshire. Even an oblivious man could see you favor her.”

Edward did not respond immediately. He focused instead on his shot, sending another ball cleanly into the pocket before straightening once more.

Favor her?

The words sounded absurd—and yet they clung to him like an unwelcome truth, burrowing deep where he could not quite dislodge them.

He opened his mouth, the truth perilously close to spilling out.

That he admired her wit. That he found himself searching for her in every room. That her laughter had become the measure of his day.

He had nearly confessed as much in the conservatory, when the rain had battered the glass overhead and the world beyond had fallen away, leaving only the two of them and the steady rhythm of the storm.

It had been easy, in that hidden corner of the world, to imagine that it was only them—and that what he felt was not reckless, but inevitable.

The words had hovered on his lips then. They hovered still.

But he drew a breath and forced himself into safer territory. After all, it did no harm for others to believe there was a genuine understanding between them. It served their cause—and yet, the pretense no longer felt entirely false.

He opened his mouth, the truth hovering dangerously close.

That she was unlike anyone he had ever met.

That her spirit intrigued him, challenged him, unsettled him in ways no other had managed.

That in all his careful dealings and calculations, he had yet to meet her equal.

The admission burned in his chest, but he mastered it before it could escape fully.

“She is ...” he said, choosing his words with care, “a singular sort of woman. I find her company exceedingly agreeable.”

Remington’s brow lifted, a glimmer of amused suspicion in his gaze. “Exceedingly agreeable, is it? You might want to warn your expression—it suggests something a touch more perilous. Pray, please elaborate.”

Edward’s grip tightened around his cue stick, but before he could summon a retort, the door swung open.

Lady Lansdowne’s ever-efficient butler entered and cleared his throat. “My lords, her Ladyship requests your presence in the drawing room for an announcement.” The butler gestured out of the room.

“We are not finished with this conversation,” Remington said as they exited.

“We will have to be. We cannot keep Lady Lansdowne waiting.”

Remington smirked. “Saved by the butler. Come along, then. Let us see what fresh torture awaits us.”

The house was abuzz with anticipation as Lady Lansdowne stood before the assembled guests in the drawing room, her sharp eyes glinting with mischief.

“Since the rain has robbed us of our afternoon pursuits,” she announced, “I have devised an activity that will no doubt amuse us all—a scavenger hunt.”

Excited murmurs rippled through the group.

“Pairs have already been decided,” she continued, “and I shall expect each of you to work in good spirits. The first pair to retrieve all six clues shall receive a prize at supper.”

Edward half-listened as names were called, his attention drawn elsewhere.

Where was Lady Olivia?

Then, as if conjured by thought alone, she appeared at his side, her gown of soft lavender muslin a striking contrast against the dark furnishings of the drawing room. She glanced up at him with that ever-perceptive gaze of hers and whispered, “I suppose we shall endure this together, my lord.”

He smiled. “I believe it was you who once called it ‘luck’ that we were paired together.”

She tilted her head. “And you were the one who insisted it was not luck at all.”

He leaned in slightly. “Because I requested you, Lady Olivia.”

Her lips parted in surprise. But before she could respond, Lady Lansdowne continued, “And finally, Lord Cheshire and Lady Olivia.”

The challenge had begun.

The scavenger hunt took them through several rooms of the house, each clue leading them to another hidden item or riddle. At first, it was nothing more than an amusing diversion, something to pass the time. But as they progressed, Edward became acutely aware of every moment spent in Lady Olivia’s company—the way her laughter rang genuine when they deciphered a particularly absurd clue, the way she absentmindedly brushed her fingers over her lower lip when in thought, the way she glanced at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Then came the library.

Their final clue.

Edward stepped inside first, scanning the towering bookshelves for their target. The air smelled of aged parchment and polished wood, the fire in the hearth casting golden flickers across Lady Olivia’s profile.

“I believe it must be hidden in one of the alcoves,” Lady Olivia mused, stepping toward the far end of the room.

Edward followed her gaze and nodded. “I shall retrieve it.”

The space was narrow, forcing him to turn slightly to the side as he reached for the hidden slip of paper tucked behind a volume of Shakespeare’s works. But as he withdrew, Lady Olivia shifted closer—too close.

Her skirts brushed against his leg.

His breath caught.

For the briefest of moments, neither of them moved. Awareness hung thick between them, tangible and unspoken.

Then, Lady Olivia took a slow step back, blinking up at him. “Well,” she murmured, clearing her throat. “That was a well-placed clue.”

Edward exhaled a quiet chuckle. “Indeed.”

He had been on the verge of saying something, something reckless. But then, before he could—

The door swung open.

A pair of other guests spilled into the library, effectively shattering the moment.

Lady Olivia turned swiftly, masking whatever had flickered across her expression just moments before. Edward clenched his jaw. It had been a mistake to let himself think—

No. Not a mistake. But dangerous, nonetheless.

They had all their clues now. The game was over.

So why did he feel as if he had just lost something rather than won?