Page 21 of An Alliance with the Earl (Marrying for Love #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T he hum of conversation blended with the strains of the quartet playing softly in the background. But Edward could not focus on any of it.

His thoughts were entirely consumed by Lady Olivia.

He had been trying to speak with her all evening, but each opportunity had been stolen by the relentless social whirl of the house party. He needed a moment alone with her—a true, uninterrupted moment.

After the dance, he had nearly told her. Nearly.

But how did one say to a woman who had no wish to form an attachment that he—the man who had proposed a convenient alliance—was beginning to wish the arrangement were real?

He raked a hand through his hair, pacing near the open French doors that led to the terrace. The cool night air beckoned him, but he did not step outside. Instead, he kept his gaze trained across the room where Lady Olivia stood, conversing with Lady Lansdowne.

She was resplendent.

Her satin gown, trimmed with pearls, gleamed in the candlelight, her honey-blonde hair styled into a crown of soft curls. She looked ethereal—untouchable.

But there was that moment on the archery field, when the moment didn’t feel unwelcome.

Her laugh had been unguarded, her embrace spontaneous. He had felt the warmth of her against him, her lavender scent had filled his senses. He had nearly kissed her then.

Nearly .

And then, the dance this evening—when their silence had spoken louder than words. Had she felt it too?

A servant passed with a tray of brandy, but Edward ignored it. His nerves were not frayed; his patience was.

He needed to speak with her. Now.

Lady Lansdowne was bidding her goodnight. Lady Olivia turned, scanning the room, and when her gaze met his—he moved.

He was at her side within moments. “Lady Olivia,” he murmured, offering his arm. “Might I steal you away for a moment?”

She blinked up at him, clearly surprised, but then—a slow, smile curved her lips.

“I thought you might,” she said, her voice a touch too smooth. “You’ve been looking rather restless all evening.”

“Have I?”

“Quite.”

“Then you must take pity on me and grant me a moment of your time.”

She hesitated—only a breath—but then placed her hand lightly on his arm. “Very well, my lord. Lead the way.”

He guided her toward the terrace doors, where a few lingering guests stood in quiet conversation. But he did not stop there. Instead, he led her down the short stone steps, onto the winding path that led toward the moonflower garden.

It was deserted.

The night air was crisp, the scent of roses and jasmine heady in the stillness. Overhead, the full moon bathed everything in a soft silver glow, turning the pale petals of the moonflowers into something almost otherworldly.

Lady Olivia inhaled deeply, turning her face toward the sky. “It is beautiful,” she murmured.

Edward watched her, watched the way her eyes shimmered in the moonlight, how her lips parted slightly in quiet reverence. He wanted to capture this moment.

To hold onto it.

To hold onto her .

But he was a man of reason. A man who had promised her a mere alliance.

And yet, here they stood, alone in a garden, on the precipice of something else entirely.

Lady Olivia turned back to him, her expression soft. “You have been trying to speak with me all evening, my lord. What is it that you wished to say?”

Edward exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I find myself at a crossroads, Lady Olivia.”

Her brow furrowed. “A crossroads?”

“Yes.” He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “You see, when I first arrived at this house party, I had no intention of forming an attachment. In fact, I actively sought to avoid it.”

A flicker of something passed through her eyes. “And now?” she asked, her voice quieter.

Edward smiled—small, rueful. “Now, I find there is no one whose company I seek more than yours. And no place I would rather be than by your side.”

The words hung between them, raw and unvarnished.

He watched her swallow, her fingers twisting lightly in the folds of her gown.

He dared another step closer.

“Olivia...” he said, almost whispering her name. “I do not wish to keep pretending I feel nothing more for you. I won’t rush you, but I must be honest. What I feel—it’s real.”

Her breath caught, lashes fluttering.

He saw it—she felt it too. Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing.

Bolstered, he continued, “I meant what I said earlier. There is no one here I would rather be in company with than you. And yet, I find myself uncertain of where that leaves us.” His heart hammered against his ribs. It was now or never. He stepped closer. “Lady Olivia … Olivia—”

She inhaled sharply, her fingers clenching at the folds of her gown. “Lord Cheshire—”

He shook his head. “Edward, if you please.”

Her throat bobbed. “Edward,” she amended.

But before he could go on, she lifted a hand—stopping him. Her palm trembled.

“Please...” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Please do not continue.”

Edward blinked. “I do not understand.”

Her expression was unreadable, but her lips pressed together in a way that unsettled him.

“You must not say it,” she said quietly.

The words stole his breath. The blow was sharp and immediate, striking something deep within him.

Still, he steadied himself. “Tell me why,” he said, gentler than he felt.

She swallowed, her hand lowering, but the invisible barrier between them remained. “Whatever you were about to say, whatever sentiment you are on the verge of confessing … you must not say it.”

A strange chill prickled along his skin. “Why?”

She exhaled, eyes flickering away before returning to his. “Because we made a bargain, my lord. We agreed to this arrangement knowing what it was—and what it was not.”

Edward’s jaw tightened. “And if I wish to amend that arrangement?”

Her fingers curled into her gown. “Then I must remind you of the terms we set.”

Those infernal terms.

He stepped forward, unable to stop himself. “What if I wish to break them?”

Her breath hitched, but she shook her head—firmly. “You gave your word that you would not. And I do not wish it.”

The finality in her tone felt like a punch to the gut.

“You do not share my sentiments. You do not have feelings for me?”

“It is not that, precisely.” Olivia’s gaze darted away, then back, full of conflict.

“Then what is it?”

“I have been here before. All of this is happening too quickly,” she whispered. “I know how easy it is to be swept away by feelings that seem grand and certain in the moment—and how hollow they can prove to be after.” She hesitated, her voice breaking slightly. “I have been foolish before. I trusted too quickly, and I paid dearly for it. I cannot—I will not—make the same mistake again.”

Edward stood very still, feeling the weight of her words settle in his chest.

She wasn’t rejecting him because she didn’t care.

She was afraid.

And yet, the refusal still cut deeper than he expected.

He forced himself to nod slowly, even as something inside him ached to reach for her. He couldn’t refute that her past was coming to haunt her and warn her. What he felt for her was genuine, but pushing that point across right now would not help her see things differently. Patience must be his companion as he looked for ways to prove his affection in a way and in a time that she would believe.

“I understand,” he said, his voice thick. “You need time. You deserve it.”

A faint line appeared between her brows, as if she had expected anger, or hurt pride.

Instead, Edward took a careful breath and said, “I’m willing to wait. I’m willing to give you whatever time you need to know that this—what is growing between us—is real.”

She inclined her head, her eyes full of emotion. “I cannot promise you a timeline.”

“I understand. But please do not ask me to pretend I feel nothing.”

Her throat bobbed in a hard swallow. “I won’t,” she whispered.

For a long moment, they stood there in the gathering dusk, something fragile and perilous stretched taut between them.

Finally, Olivia gathered herself, smoothing her skirts with trembling fingers.

“We should return,” she said, her voice steadier than before. “There are still others who will be looking for us.”

Edward inclined his head. He offered his arm, and she took it with a small, trembling hand.

“Does this mean you will wish to dissolve our alliance?” she asked.

His eyes widened. If he agreed to such a thing, her chaperone could give a report of Olivia’s time that would put her travels in jeopardy. “I do not wish to put such a burden on you before the end of the house party. If you are amiable to continue, I will stick to our agreed upon alliance.”

Her grip tightened on his arm. “That is very generous of you, considering the circumstances.”

“Lady Olivia, I am a gentleman and a man of my word. You can trust me that I will do everything in my power to ensure that Mrs. Morris gives your brother a glowing report of your efforts.”

She nodded, blinking away unshed tears. “Thank you, Edward.” She said his name so quietly, he almost missed it.

They walked back toward Ivy Manor in silence—no longer filled with easy conversation or playful barbs, but with the heavy, aching weight of things left unsaid.

Edward said nothing more.

He would honor her wish.

But as he glanced at the woman beside him—so strong, so guarded, so achingly dear—he knew he would not stop hoping.

And he would not stop fighting for her.

Not even if it took far longer than he wished.