Page 102 of A Literary Liaison
“None,” she replied, her hand finding the ring that now graced her finger. “How could I?”
Edgar smiled, full of contentment and possessive satisfaction. Tomorrow, he would conclude his business with Hargrove. Soon after, he would announce their engagement to the world.
“This is not goodbye,” he reminded her as they prepared to return separately to avoid discovery. “This is the beginning of our future.”
“Our future,” Elisha repeated, the words sounding sweet. “I like the sound of that.”
As they parted ways under the benevolent gaze of moon and stars, Edgar watched her disappear into the house and vowed he would move heaven and earth to protect her and the life they would build together.
Trouble
The crisp morningair was heavy with the scent of damp earth and gunpowder as Edgar, Mr. Hargrove, and a select group of gentlemen made their way across the misty fields of the Lancaster estate. Among the party was Miss Hargrove who had insisted on joining the shooting expedition despite the raised eyebrows of some of the more traditional guests.
As they paused to allow the beaters to flush out a covey of pheasants, Edgar seized the opportunity to broach the subject that had been weighing on his mind.
“I say, Hargrove,” he began, keeping his tone casual, “I’ve been giving some thought to the Royal Mail Company contract. I don’t suppose you might shed some light on how the bidding process is progressing?”
Mr. Hargrove, a portly man with a ruddy complexion who had built his transportation empire from nothing, chuckled. “Ah, Your Grace, business in the midst of sport? Well, if you must know, your group and Thornton’s associates are the frontrunners at present.”
Edgar’s interest was piqued. “Is that so? And who exactly comprises Thornton’s group, if I may ask?”
Hargrove lowered his voice, glancing around to ensure they weren’t overheard. “Well, there’s Lord Bentley, Sir Richard Lamb, and Mr. Simon Kelly, to name a few.”
Edgar’s brow furrowed as he contemplated this intelligence. Thesegentlemen were all staunch Conservatives, and all rather vocal in their opposition to reform movements.
“However,” Hargrove said with a meaningful look, “Thornton assures me that his associates will share… compatible interests for the sake of this contract, if you take my meaning.”
Edgar nodded carefully. As a self-made man, Hargrove would naturally be wary of aristocrats who looked down upon those of humble origins.
“Indeed, I comprehend you perfectly,” Edgar replied. “What, in your estimation, is the wellspring of Thornton’s associates’ interest in the Royal Mail contract? With the exception of Mr. Thornton himself, none of these gentlemen are wont to involve themselves in commercial ventures.”
Before Mr. Hargrove could respond, his daughter interjected, her keen ears having caught the latter part of their exchange. “Your Grace, surely you do not mean to insinuate that Mr. Thornton’s group harbors ulterior motives?”
Edgar smiled tightly at the woman’s lack of tact, transforming his carefully worded inquiry into a blatant accusation. With practiced ease, he schooled his features into a mask of polite interest.
“My dear Miss Hargrove,” he said smoothly, “I would not presume to impugn the motives of such esteemed gentlemen. I merely seek to understand the landscape of this particular venture more thoroughly.”
Mr. Hargrove cleared his throat, casting a reproving glance at his daughter. “Quite right, Your Grace. In matters of business, one must always consider who one’s partners truly are.”
As they readied their firearms, Edgar’s thoughts remained fixed on the curious alliance between Thornton and those Conservative members of Parliament. The potential ramifications for the reform movement, should Thornton and his associates gain control of the Royal Mail, were deeply troubling.
*
The grand ballroomof Lancaster Hall buzzed with the gentle murmur of conversation and the soft clink of crystal as Edgar oversaw the final preparations for the evening’s entertainment. The house party had been in full swing for several days, and tonight’s card games promised to be a highlight of the gathering.
As he surveyed the room, his eyes were drawn to the entrance, where he saw a sight that made his blood run cold. Steven Thornton was entering the ballroom, and on his arm was none other than Elisha. Edgar felt a surge of fury course through him as he watched her lean against Thornton’s arm, laughing at something he’d said, her hand resting familiarly on his sleeve.
What the devil was she playing at? After their intimate encounter in the garden, after accepting his proposal, how could she be so familiar with another man?
“Edgar, darling,” his mother’s voice cut through his rage, “do try not to look as though you’re about to challenge Mr. Thornton to a duel.”
The duchess had appeared at his side, her keen eyes taking in the scene before them. Edgar forced himself to relax his posture, though his voice remained tight. “Mother, I assure you, I have no such intentions.”
“I should hope not,” she said with a wry smile. “It would be terribly inconvenient to have to explain bloodstains on the new Turkish carpet.”
As Thornton and Elisha approached, Edgar schooled his features into a mask of polite indifference, though his jaw ached from clenching. “Mr. Thornton, Miss von Linde,” he greeted them, his tone carefully neutral despite the jealousy burning in his chest.
“Indeed we are, Your Grace,” Thornton replied smoothly, his possessive hand at Elisha’s waist making Edgar’s vision darken. “Missvon Linde has been regaling me with the most fascinating tales of her recent interviews.”
