Page 17 of A Literary Liaison
“Do you miss India?” she asked, noting how his expression shifted at her avoidance of the subject.
“Parts of it. Though not, perhaps, what most would expect.” He seemed to choose his words carefully. “I miss the children who would gather outside the mines each morning, hoping for work. Not the circumstance that brought them there—that was devastating—but the opportunity to help. We established a school instead, taught them to read and write. More valuable than any mineral we extracted, in my opinion.”
Elisha studied him with new interest. This was not the cold industrialist she’d thus far believed him to be. “That must have caused quite a stir among your fellow businessmen.”
“It did.” Something like mischief flickered in his eyes. “Almost as much as selling to an American company that promised to maintainthe school’s funding. Sometimes, as you’re aware, the most profitable ventures have nothing to do with money. The school continues to thrive, from what my friends report,” Thornton said, a rare warmth softening his features. “Though I admit, walking away was—”
“Strategizing against your own sex, Thornton?” came a familiar voice behind them.
Elisha turned to find the Duke of Lancaster approaching, his blue eyes bright with what might have been challenge or amusement. She straightened slightly, her professional instincts sharpening.
Mr. Thornton’s expression settled back into its usual granite mask. “My allegiance is with my staff at theMetropolitan Review, Your Grace.”
“Immediate defection would be wise,” His Grace replied, his lips quirking in one corner.
As if Mr. Thornton comprehended a double meaning in the duke’s statement, he dipped his head to the Duke of Lancaster and addressed Elisha. “Miss Linde, please excuse me.”
Upon the proprietor’s retreat, the duke stepped closer and stood beside her.
“Your Grace,” she said politely. “Come to assess the opposition?”
“Merely engaging in friendly reconnaissance,” he replied with a roguish grin. “If Lady Faulkner’s reputation for strategic planning is any indication, we gentlemen may be in for quite the battle.”
“Are you so easily intimidated, Your Grace?” Elisha asked, raising an eyebrow.
“On the contrary, Miss Linde. I find worthy opponents far more interesting than easy victories.” He paused, studying her face. “Based on your work in theMetropolitan, I imagine you’ll make an impressive adversary.”
Heat crept up Elisha’s neck. “You read my articles? How fascinating, considering they rarely concern racing horses or gaming hells.”
Rather than take offense, the duke threw back his head and laughed. “You wound me, Miss. I do occasionally read material of amore… substantial nature. ‘The Frivolous Education of England’s Elite’ was particularly memorable. Tell me, Miss Linde, do you make a habit of keeping such thorough account of my activities?”
“Your Grace’s exploits are rather difficult to ignore when they occupy half the scandal sheets in London. Some of us believe a duke’s time might be better spent on his responsibilities than on perfecting his reputation as a rake.”
“Ah, but I have an excellent younger brother who manages such tedious matters. Edmund positively revels in estate management and crop rotation. It would be cruel of me to deprive him of such pleasure.”
“How thoughtful of you to spare him the burdens of brothels and gaming hells.”
“I do try to be considerate,” he said with a roguish grin. “Though I must say, your disapproval is far more entertaining than the usual fawning I encounter.”
“If you seek entertainment, Your Grace, might I suggest the library? Though perhaps I should recommend something with pictures, to ease you into the experience.”
The duke’s eyes sparkled with genuine delight. “My, my. Sharp tongue, sharper wit. I don’t suppose you’d care to join me for tea in a week?”
“I fear I must decline. I wouldn’t wish to deprive London’s enterprising young ladies of your attention. I hear they’ve started a betting pool on who will be your next conquest.”
“Have they indeed? And what odds do you give yourself?”
She narrowed her eyes at his teasing inquiry—a fox with a bewildered rabbit. She kept her voice free of any emotion. “Rather less than my chances of spontaneously becoming Queen of England, Your Grace.”
“Such certainty,” he murmured without seeming discouraged. He stepped closer. “And yet you’re the first woman in recent memory toengage my full attention.”
Elisha’s heart skipped a beat at the bold query. “A dubious honor I shall try to bear with fortitude.”
He threw back his head and laughed with abandon, filling the room with warmth. Elisha steadfastly ignored the small thrill it sent down her spine. After all, she had no intention of becoming another notch on the Duke of Lancaster’s bedpost, no matter how engaging he might be.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Perhaps I’m not quite the wastrel you imagine me to be.”
“And perhaps pigs shall sprout wings.”
