Page 36 of A Literary Liaison
Only after his footsteps faded did Elisha release her held breath. Amelia’s deft fingers worked at her hair, their eyes meeting in the mirror.
“He means well,” Amelia said softly.
“I know.” Elisha watched her friend secure a loose curl. “Your brother has been nothing but generous…”
“But?”
“But I cannot help feeling that his generosity comes with… expectations.”
Amelia’s hands stilled. “He admires you greatly. And truly, Elisha, would it be so terrible? My brother could offer you security, position, the means to expand our literacy program beyond our wildest dreams.”
The press below missed a beat, its rhythm faltering, like Elisha’s heart at the thought of another man’s touch—broader hands, a deeper voice, eyes that sparked with challenge rather than possession.
“I cannot marry a man I do not love,” she said quietly, “no matter how advantageous the match.”
Before Amelia could respond, excited voices drifted up from below. The guests were beginning to arrive.
“Tonight isn’t about Steven, or… or anyone else,” she said firmly. “It’s about proving that theMetropolitan Reviewdeserves to be taken seriously. That our mission to bring education to those who need it most is worthy of support.”
Amelia squeezed her shoulders. “Then let us go make history, my dear.”
As they descended the creaking stairs, Elisha straightened herspine. She could do this—charm their distinguished guest, secure his patronage, advance their cause. And if her heart quickened at the thought of seeing a certain duke among tonight’s guests, well… that was a weakness she would simply have to master.
Thornton waited at the bottom of the stairs, his hand extended. Behind him, the printing house had been transformed: mirrors caught and multiplied the gaslight, fresh garlands adorned the walls, and a display of their finest issues stood proudly near the refreshments.
“Shall we?” he asked, his smile warm with promise.
Elisha placed her hand in his, ignoring the voice in her heart that whispered it was the wrong hand, the wrong smile, the wrong man. Tonight wasn’t about matters of the heart. Tonight was about securing their future—all of their futures.
The announcement of William Wordsworth’s arrival sent a ripple through the assembled crowd. But it was the tall figure beside him that made Elisha’s breath catch—the Duke of Lancaster, more handsome than ever in his perfectly tailored evening attire. The Marquess of Hereford flanked his other side, completing the impressive trio.
“Magnificent,” Thornton murmured beside her, his hand finding the small of her back, propelling her forward. “Come, let us greet them.”
Elisha forced herself to focus on the elderly poet rather than the duke whose blue eyes she could feel following her movement. “Mr. Wordsworth,” she executed a perfect curtsy, “we are honored by your presence.”
Wordsworth’s face creased with genuine warmth. “The honor, my dear, is mutual. I must confess, your recent piece on the transformative power of poetry in education caught my attention. Most innovative thinking.”
“You’re too kind, sir.” She felt Thornton’s grip tighten slightly at her back—a reminder of his presence, his claim. “Though I believe much of the credit belongs to Mr. Thornton for providing a platformfor such discussions.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Thornton.” The duke’s rich baritone sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. “You’ve taken… liberties since your personal involvement.”
Elisha watched as the two men sized each other up with the careful politeness of natural rivals. Thornton’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Your Grace. I must thank you for facilitating this evening’s gathering. TheMetropolitan Reviewis always grateful for aristocratic patronage.”
Something flashed in the duke’s eyes, but his expression remained pleasantly neutral. “The Metropolitan’s commitment to education deserves recognition. I believe Mr. Wordsworth agrees?”
“Indeed.” Wordsworth nodded enthusiastically. “Most admirable work.”
“Miss Linde has been instrumental in its development,” the proprietor said. “Her passion for education is inspiring. Perhaps Miss Linde might show us these educational facilities? I’m sure Mr. Wordsworth would be fascinated by their practical implementation.”
“An excellent suggestion,” Amelia interjected smoothly, appearing at their side. “Brother, surely Mr. Wordsworth would benefit from your overview of our printing operations first? I believe you mentioned some innovative techniques you’ve implemented.”
Thornton hesitated, clearly reluctant to release his hold on Elisha, but the opportunity to impress their guest proved too tempting. “Of course. Mr. Wordsworth, if you’d care to follow me…”
As the proprietor led the poet away, with Hereford and most of the crowd following, Amelia gave Elisha a meaningful look before hurrying after them. The duke remained behind, standing close enough that Elisha could hear his breathing.
“Your Grace,” she managed, painfully aware of their near solitude.
“Miss Linde.” His voice was low and intimate. “I find myself in need of assistance with those educational materials you mentioned.Might you show me?”
