Page 20 of An Alliance with the Earl (Marrying for Love #5)
CHAPTER TWENTY
T he drawing room was alive with soft laughter and the murmur of conversation, the warmth of candlelight glimmering off polished furniture and reflecting in the delicate facets of the crystal chandeliers above. The moonflower garden had been breathtaking, a moment of unspoiled beauty, but Olivia had not been able to focus on it fully. Edward had nearly said something—something important. And Lady Catherine and Miss Cox had interrupted before he could.
Now, as the evening’s amusements unfolded, Olivia found herself hovering at the edge of the gathering, absently tracing her fingers over the carved embellishments of a rosewood table. She should be mingling, smiling, laughing. Instead, she was caught in an endless replay of what Edward had been about to say.
Had it been about their arrangement? Was he tired of the pretense? Did he wish to dissolve it? The very idea sent a peculiar ache through her chest.
Across the room, Edward stood near the card table, engaged in a lighthearted discussion with Lord Remington and Viscount Bellamy. Even from a distance, he was striking, his dark coat expertly tailored to his form, his dark brown hair catching the flicker of the candelabras. He was speaking, but at that very moment, as if drawn by some invisible tether, his gaze lifted—and found hers.
Olivia’s breath caught. The edges of her vision blurred. There was something resolute in his expression, something unspoken yet undeniable.
Then, Lady Lansdowne’s voice rang out.
“Come, my dear friends! It has been too long since we enjoyed a truly spontaneous dance. Let us set aside the order of the balls and simply revel in the moment.”
Excited murmurs rippled through the guests. A few gentlemen immediately claimed their partners, and the quartet in the corner of the room struck up the opening strains of a lively reel. Olivia smiled and took a step back. She had no wish to dance tonight—not when her mind was so hopelessly occupied.
Yet Edward was already moving toward her.
“Lady Olivia,” he said, bowing smoothly before extending his gloved hand. “I believe this next set is mine.”
She blinked. “Yours, my lord?”
“I distinctly recall you owing me a dance,” he said, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “And I am here to collect.”
A dozen polite refusals rose to her lips, but none made it past her throat. She was losing control of this—losing control of herself around him. She knew it. But what was one dance?
Gathering the remnants of her composure, she placed her hand in his.
As he led her to the center of the room, warmth radiated through her glove where his fingers enclosed hers. The sensation was absurdly distracting.
They stepped into the dance just as the music quickened, a familiar pattern of steps guiding them effortlessly. Olivia had always enjoyed dancing, but this was different. The space between them felt charged, every turn, every touch, every moment infused with a tension that made the air hum.
And yet with a reel it was hard to hold any conversation of consequence other than a few remarks in between the turns.
She pretended that she was at ease when she was anything but. Trying to carry on a conversation felt impossible.
He did not seem to mind. In fact, as their gazes locked during a turn, he seemed to understand.
When he drew her closer for the next figure of the dance, Olivia’s pulse quickened. There was a light pressure at the small of her back, just the briefest touch as he guided her into the next step, and yet it felt as though he had branded her.
Oh heavens.
She had danced with several gentlemen during the house party, but not one of them had made her feel like this.
Not one of them had made her feel hot and cold at the same time.
Not one of them had made her skin tingle with awareness from a mere touch.
She had been a fool to think she could play this game with Edward and remain unaffected.
The lively music of the reel slowed, signaling the end of the dance. As the last notes faded, Edward released her—but not before his fingers squeezed hers.
She forced herself to smile, though her heart was racing. “Thank you, my lord. That was most enjoyable.”
Edward studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Indeed, Lady Olivia. I find I enjoy our dances far more than I anticipated.”
She hesitated. “Did you expect to dislike them?”
His lips curved, but instead of answering, he offered his arm. “Come, let us take some refreshment.”
She did not argue.
As they made their way to the refreshment table, she glanced up at him. He was watching her closely, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. It puzzled her, as she thought she was getting more proficient at reading his expressions.
“I believe our conversation in the garden was left unfinished,” he murmured.
She inhaled sharply, her heart suddenly hammering again. “I’m sure we covered all the important matters,” she replied breezily, lifting a glass of chilled lemonade from the table. Feelings were fickle. Pretending to admire someone was different from coming to know them truly, wasn’t it?
She had her past to guide her. She needed to be strong. Lord Cheshire could be most persuasive, and she wasn’t sure she would have the strength to stay firm in her resolve. What if she was correct in her assumption that he was going to declare something to her?
It would be far too soon to be able to tell anything. Mrs. Morris would know of it, and then her brother would be informed. She could not be forced into a situation after so short an acquaintance. It was troubling—she could not understand her own mind on the subject.
Edward tilted his head slightly. “I do not believe we did, Lady Olivia. There is something you must understand.”
Her fingers tensed around the delicate stem of the glass.
Before he could say more, Lady Catherine approached with a delighted smile, drawing them into conversation. Olivia masked her frustration with a polite expression, but inside, she was cursing every interruption.
By the time Lady Catherine departed, Edward had been drawn away to the card table, and Olivia was left standing by the refreshment table, gripping her lemonade as if it were a lifeline.
Across the room, Edward cast her a look before he was pulled into the game.
Their conversation had been delayed once again.
But this time, Olivia knew—it would not be delayed for much longer.
She could feel it.
And heaven help her, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear what Edward had to say. It would absolutely ruin everything.