Page 44 of A Literary Liaison
Adams nodded then said, “I believe you have decided she is worth the risk.”
Exhaling deeply, Edgar replied, “I would never forgive myself if something happened to her and I did nothing to prevent it. I did not comprehend the depth of my affliction until I strived to banish her from my thoughts. Alas, the more I struggle to forget, the more consuming my preoccupation becomes.”
Adams stepped forward, placing a consoling hand on Edgar’s shoulder. “Do you recall the tale your father recounted to us regarding the first Duke of Lancaster?”
Edgar nodded. “I remember he wed his commoner mistress, but the legitimacy of the marriage and their issue endured until his demise. It was not an easy existence for him and his family.”
“But they remained wed and loved one another.”
“Regarding that,” Edgar said, tousling his hair. “Miss Linde has… refused my advances.”
Adams regarded his friend pensively. “And how, precisely, did you advance?”
“Well… I informed her of my desire to bed her.”
Adams snickered. “How have you earned the distinction of a rakewhen you are so woefully ignorant in the art of courting women?”
“I was overcome with panic. I knew not what to say when she inquired if I would offer for her, but that was not the entirety of her statement. She refused me on the grounds that I am not putting my title and wealth to good use.”
A rare smile graced Adams’ visage. “I find myself admiring that lady, Miss Linde. You must court her properly before Thornton secures her affections.”
Feeling a surge of possessiveness in his breast, Edgar rose to his feet, raising his hands to recommence their pugilistic exercise.
As he and Adams resumed their sparring, perspiration beaded on their brows, their breathing labored yet controlled. The rhythmic sound of fists meeting flesh and the occasional grunt of exertion filled the air.
“Tell me, Lancaster,” Adams said between jabs, “what do you intend to do about your courtship?”
Edgar ducked a swift uppercut, countering with a hook to Adams’ ribs. “Perhaps it’s time to cultivate a new image. One that Miss Linde might find more appealing and believable.”
As they continued their bout, Edgar’s mind raced with possibilities.
“How can it be thus,” Edgar said between jabs, his breath coming in short gasps. “I scarcely know her, not in any true sense. Can one truly succumb to the throes of love with such a dearth of knowledge about the object of one’s affections?”
Adams grunted, dodging Edgar’s next strike. “Love is a capricious thing,” Adams said, intensifying his assault with a flurry of well-aimed blows. “It seldom awaits formal introductions or considers the niceties of courtship.”
They continued their bout in silence for several moments, the only sounds their labored breathing and the dull thud of gloved fists meeting flesh.
“Your counsel, as always, is invaluable,” Edgar said.
“Does this mean I have a free membership to your pleasure den?”
“This means you can own the pleasure den.”
“Truly? Being in love does not mean you need to become old and shackled.”
“Yes, it does, my friend. Yes, it does.”
*
The Metropolitan’s officebustled with activity, the scratch of quills on parchment and the rustle of papers filling the air as Elisha and Amelia labored diligently, their heads bent over their respective tasks. Elisha had just finished reading Mr. Steele’s latest letter, his philosophical questions about love weighing heavily on her mind.
Metropolitan Review, 20 May 1840
Dear Mr. Steele,
A love worthy of the name should ignite a fire within the breast of man, while drawing forth the gentlest tears from the eyes of woman.
Similarly, a tale of love, when masterfully woven, ought to evoke these powerful responses from its readers.
