Page 7 of An Alliance with the Earl (Marrying for Love #5)
CHAPTER SEVEN
E dward adjusted his coat cuffs with practiced ease, his gloved fingers smoothing over the fine fabric as he cast a measured glance across the drawing room. The space had been subtly transformed for the evening’s entertainment, its usual elegance giving way to a more convivial atmosphere. The heavy velvet drapes had been drawn back, revealing the dark stretch of night beyond the tall windows, while the chandelier above bathed the room in a warm, golden glow.
The furniture had been rearranged to allow ample space for the lively game of charades, the polished parquet floor gleaming beneath the candlelight. A semicircle of chairs lined the perimeter for those who preferred to spectate rather than participate, their occupants murmuring in hushed amusement as they anticipated the performances to come. The scent of beeswax and fresh flowers lingered in the air, mingling with the faint trace of perfume from the assembled guests.
Lady Lansdowne, ever the masterful hostess, had once again orchestrated the pairings with an air of benevolent mischief. Edward, only half-listening as she cheerfully announced the names, felt his interest sharpen when his own was spoken. As promised, he had been paired with Lady Olivia.
He turned his head slightly, seeking her out amidst the gathering. She stood not far from him, the lamplight casting a soft glow upon her features. Tonight, she wore a gown of deep emerald green, the rich hue a striking contrast against her fair complexion. The fabric, a fine silk that shimmered with the movement of her breath, draped elegantly over her frame, the bodice fitted with understated precision before flowing into graceful skirts that whispered against the floor. A delicate overlay of sheer gauze, embroidered with intricate gold thread in the shapes of trailing ivy, caught the light when she moved, adding an air of quiet sophistication to her appearance.
Her honey-blonde hair had been arranged in an elegant twist at the nape of her neck, though a few wayward curls had escaped, framing her face with an effortless charm. But it was her eyes—light brown, warm and filled with a knowing glint—that held his attention longer than he intended. There was a sharpness to her gaze, an awareness that suggested she was already assessing the challenge ahead, and for some inexplicable reason, he felt the slightest thrill at the prospect of being her partner for the evening.
She caught him watching her and inclined her head, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips.
It was proving to be a most agreeable arrangement—until, of course, they lost in the very first round.
The instant Edward had attempted his charade, miming the dramatic swoon of a tragic hero, Lady Olivia had let out an ill-suppressed snort of laughter, which immediately sent Edward into a choking fit of amusement.
Their audience barely had time to guess the subject before Lady Lansdowne’s bemused voice rang out.
“Lord Cheshire, Lady Olivia,” she arched a delicate brow, amusement dancing in her eyes, “I fear you have both thoroughly disregarded the very first rule of charades.”
Edward cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, but Lady Olivia was not as restrained. She turned to him, eyes bright with mirth. “I have been dreadfully deceived, my lord. I was led to believe that you were a master of charades. And yet, here we are—disqualified before the game has even begun.”
Edward pressed a hand to his heart, adopting an expression of great offense. “You wound me, Lady Olivia. I assure you, my talents are unparalleled.”
She folded her arms, tilting her head in mock skepticism. “Unparalleled in failing, you mean.”
“Ah, but failure,” he countered smoothly, “is simply the first step to mastery.”
“Then I suppose you have many steps to go.”
Edward laughed, shaking his head. He caught Lady Lansdowne’s watchful gaze from across the room—her lips twitched with barely concealed amusement, and she waved a hand in their direction.
“Off with you,” she said lightly. “If you must disrupt the proceedings, at least do so out of earshot of those still engaged in the game.”
Edward inclined his head in a bow, and with a knowing look toward Lady Olivia, he gestured toward the chess table at the far end of the room.
“Shall we?”
Lady Olivia sighed dramatically. “I suppose we must occupy ourselves somehow, now that we have been banished from the game.”
They settled into their seats next to the polished chessboard.
Edward, out of habit, reached for the pieces and began setting the board—but instead of waiting for Lady Olivia to make her first move, he shifted both sets of pieces, playing against himself as though she were not there.
Lady Olivia blinked. “What are you doing?”
Edward glanced up innocently. “I am playing chess.”
“Against yourself?”
“Indeed.”
She gave him a flat look before reaching across the board and putting back the pieces he had moved on her behalf.
“I shall make my own moves, thank you,” she said.
Edward bit back a grin, settling more comfortably in his chair. “Very well, Lady Olivia. Let us see if you can best me at the one game in which I always win.”
She laughed. “Your boasting is quite amusing, Lord Cheshire. Of course you would win if you are only playing against yourself. But how do you fare when you are not controlling all of the pieces on the board, I wonder?”
“I believe time will answer that question for you,” he said.
As they played, the room hummed with quiet conversation, the occasional burst of laughter or exclamation of triumph came from the other groups. But at their corner of the room, it was simply the calm cadence of strategy, the movement of pieces, and their easy exchange of words.
Edward found himself watching Lady Olivia more than the board.
Her fingers moved with care, and when she paused to consider a move, she would tap her lower lip lightly with one finger. It was a small, absentminded gesture, but he found it peculiarly charming.
Not once did he have to endure the incessant giggling he had suffered the previous evening. He supposed their laughter during charades had indeed caused quite a stir, but there was a difference—Lady Olivia did not manufacture her amusement. She did not feign delight at his every word, nor flutter her lashes in calculated coyness.
And that, perhaps, was why he found himself so utterly at ease in her presence.
His thoughts drifted back to the morning they had spent on the island. He had been startled by how easily they conversed. The conversation had flowed without artifice, without the weight of expectation pressing upon him.
And then, of course, there had been the laughter.
Not the kind that grated on his nerves, but the genuine kind—the kind that bubbled up without restraint, light and musical.
He had begun telling amusing stories on purpose, just to hear that delightful sound again.
Finally, after a particularly amusing anecdote, she had turned to him, shaking her head with a smile.
“You must stop at once,” she had declared, barely containing her mirth. “I cannot sketch properly while laughing.”
He had obliged, though with great reluctance.
Even now, as he watched her study the chessboard, he felt the same urge—to say something, to provoke just one more laugh.
“Your move, Lady Olivia,” he murmured, resting his chin on one hand.
She gave him a sidelong glance, then gracefully moved her knight.
Edward examined the board, his lips curling in a slow smile. “A bold move.”
“I have been known to be bold,” she said lightly.
He smirked. “And yet, I fear you have played directly into my hands.”
With a measured flick, he took her knight.
Lady Olivia narrowed her eyes at the board, then at him. “That was most unsporting.”
“Hardly. You must be more cunning, Lady Olivia.”
“Next time, I shall be,” she promised.
Edward leaned back in his chair, watching her with quiet admiration. There was something remarkable about her—something that made him wonder if, for the first time, he had met someone who could truly match wits with him.
And if she continued to look at him in that particular way, he thought he might just let her win the next game.
But only once.