Page 105 of A Literary Liaison
Edgar’s blood turned to ice, but he forced himself to remain still.
“Yes, I know about that too,” Thornton continued, and Edgar was surprised to see tears gathering in the man’s bloodshot eyes. “The great literary rivalry—how romantic that lovers should compete with words. But here’s what I don’t understand, Lancaster.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You have everything. Title, wealth, position, respect. You could have any woman in England. Why her?”
The question seemed torn from somewhere deep inside him, and Edgar found himself genuinely considering it.
“She’s brilliant, yes,” Thornton continued, his words tumbling out faster now. “Beautiful, passionate, brave. But I could give her things too. I’ve built something real. My media empire, my connections—I’ve dragged myself up from nothing, and I could take her with me to the very top.”
Edgar opened his mouth, but the man held up a shaking hand.
“Let me finish. Please.” His words came out cracked and desperate. “I know she loves you. I see it in her eyes when she looks at you, the way she never looks at me. But I could love her more. I could love her in a way that transforms both our lives.”
Edgar stared at the broken man before him, seeing clearly now that this wasn’t just about business or social climbing—this was about a man who had convinced himself that love alone could redeem a lifetime of rejection and struggle.
“You don’t understand what it’s like,” Thornton continued, his voice becoming increasingly frantic. “To have nothing, to be nothing. My father discarded my mother like she was rubbish, left us to starve while he played at being a philanthropist. I’ve spent my entire life fighting for scraps while men like you have everything handed to them. Elisha—she could change everything for me. She could make me legitimate in ways money never could.”
“Steven,” Edgar said gently, using his first name deliberately, “she’s not a prize to be won. She’s a person with her own desires, her own choices.”
“But I could make her happy!” Thornton exploded. “I know her mind, her work, her passions. I’ve supported her career, believed in her talent. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“Perhaps it’s not enough.”
Thornton’s face crumpled, and for a moment he looked like the abandoned child he had once been. But then something hardened in his expression, desperation crystallizing into dangerous resolve.
“Then I’ll make you a deal,” he said, wiping his face roughly withhis sleeve. “Work with me instead of against me. I’ll give you a full partnership in my media empire—controlling interest, if you want it. Together we could shape public opinion, control the narrative. You’d have more influence than any reform pamphlet could ever achieve.”
Edgar raised an eyebrow. “And in return?”
“Step aside. Let me court her properly. Maybe if I had a real chance, without your shadow over everything…” He trailed off, the futility of his request evident even to him.
“And if I refuse?”
Thornton’s expression shifted, desperation giving way to something darker. “Then I’ll expose everything. Your identity as Steele, your funding of seditious activities. The King will brand you a traitor.”
The threat made Edgar’s vision darken with rage, but Thornton pressed on, his voice breaking again.
“I don’t want to harm you. Lord knows I’m not this person. But if I can’t have her, if I lose the only thing that could give my life meaning…” He met Edgar’s eyes, and the anguish there was unmistakable. “What else do I have left?”
Edgar studied the man before him—broken, desperate, clinging to a love that was slowly destroying him. “You’re asking me to abandon the woman I love so you can pursue someone who will never return your feelings.”
“She might,” Thornton whispered. “Given time, given a real chance…”
“No,” Edgar said firmly but not unkindly. “She won’t. Not especially after you send me to hang. And deep down, you know that.”
Thornton stood frozen for a moment. Then his face contorted with renewed fury and desperation.
“Then you’ve made your choice,” he said, his voice hollow. “I’ll give you until tomorrow evening to reconsider. End your relationship with Elisha. Do not communicate with her in any form from this point onward. Do this, and I’ll keep your secrets.”
Thornton moved toward the door, then paused and looked back, his expression a mixture of hatred and desperation. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Lancaster. We could both have what we want.”
“We cannot both have the same woman,” Edgar said quietly. “And what of what Elisha wants?”
Thornton’s face crumpled one final time before he straightened his shoulders and walked to the door. “Choose wisely, Your Grace. Everything you love hangs in the balance.”
Edgar remained at the window long after Thornton’s footsteps faded down the corridor, his mind racing through the implications. The man’s threats were not idle. The fact that he knew about the printing press proved it.
The choices before him were stark: submit to Thornton’s demands and lose Elisha forever, or face exposure that would see him branded a traitor. Neither was acceptable.
But perhaps there was a third option. If he could disappear for a time—remove himself from London while finding a way to neutralize Thornton’s evidence—he might yet protect both himself and the cause. It would mean leaving her without explanation, letting her believe he had abandoned her. The thought twisted in his chest like a blade.
