Page 62 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist

Men and women moved around the room in their finery. Couples danced a quadrille on the dance floor.

Clara stayed close, speaking quietly to her every now and then. “You see? You had nothing to worry about. Everyone looks charmed already.”

Eliza gave her friend a warm smile in response, glad for what she was trying to do. But she still felt the wave of tightness pressing down on her chest.

At least until she heard his voice.

“My lady?”

She turned around and swallowed. Tristan stood right in front of her, his coat sharp and a calm smile resting on his face. She studied the way his dark coat stretched over his broad shoulders. His hair was slicked back, and a gentle smile rested on his face.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked.

She hesitated. Dancing meant stepping into the center of all those watching eyes. Still, something in his tone kept her relaxed. Or was she just thinking what she wanted?

Without lingering too long, she placed her hand in his. “Yes.”

He led her onto the dance floor, and they began to move. Their steps were careful at first, as if any wrong move would break the subtle rapport between them.

However, as the music carried them along, something shifted. The light brown in his eyes grew softer, and for a moment, the distance that often stood between them completely faded.

“You are lighter on your feet than I expected,” he eventually said.

She raised a brow. “Was that meant as a compliment?”

“It was.”

“Then I will accept it.”

A smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, and the tightness in her chest loosened. For a moment, it felt like laughter might escape her.

The dance ended too soon, and he led her back toward the side. They stayed together after that, talking about the men and women in the ballroom. For a very brief moment, the crowd seemed to completely disappear around them.

She was with him. Just him.

And nothing could break this moment.

“Lord Vale.”

Eliza’s eyes snapped shut, and she felt her stomach twist. She would recognize that voice even if she heard it while unconscious.

Marcus stood before them, his smile tight, his eyes glinting with calculation.

“Brother,” Eliza said coolly.

Marcus all but ignored her by bowing slightly and looking straight at Tristan.

“Might I borrow Lord Vale for a moment? There are a few matters best discussed in private.”

Tristan’s jaw shifted. “Mr. Harwood, this is hardly the place—”

Marcus pressed on smoothly. “It will not take long. And I promise, my lord, you will want to hear it.”

Tristan’s gaze lingered on Eliza before he gave a short nod. “Very well.”

Eliza’s stomach twisted even more as Marcus laid a hand on Tristan’s arm and steered him toward the door and into the hallway. She watched them go, the unease growing in her.

She was still staring at them when a glass of water appeared in her line of sight.