Page 7 of A Literary Liaison
“A profitable business is a respectable endeavor for a gentleman as far as I’m concerned.”
Edgar dipped his quill in ink, a wicked smile playing at his lips as he contemplated his next literary salvo. Miss Lovelace thought herself so superior, so untouchable in her ivory tower of criticism. Well, he would see about that. If she wanted to question his understanding of genuine emotion, he would give her something to truly consider.
*
Gas lamps casta warm glow over theMetropolitan Review’ssmall classroom, where a dozen students hunched over dog-eared primers and worn slates. Elisha moved among them, pausing to praise a young chimney sweep’s lettering while Amelia quietly distributed tea and modest suppers of tripe and bread.
“Now,” Elisha said softly, drawing their attention, “who would like to begin our passage fromOliver Twist?”
A factory girl raised her hand, swallowing her last bite of bread. As the girl’s halting voice filled the room, others followed along, their tired eyes fighting to stay open after long days of labor.
A gentle knock interrupted their lesson. Elisha looked over as Amelia opened the door to reveal Mrs. Cobbs holding out a sealed envelope, her knowing smile visible through the doorway before she departed.
The sender’s identity was obvious from Amelia’s grin. Elisha rolledher eyes and continued teaching, wondering what literary challenge Mr. Steele had devised now. Though strangely, she was minding these exchanges less and less—perhaps because their literary feud had increased subscriptions by thirty percent. Each new subscriber meant another student could join their literacy program.
An hour later, when the last student had gone and the classroom was tidied, Amelia and Elisha settled into the editorial office downstairs. The letter lay between them, Mr. Steele’s bold handwriting stark against the cream envelope.
“What do you suppose he has written now?” Amelia mused, pouring them each a fresh cup of tea. “Perhaps he’s conceded defeat in your literary duel?”
Elisha snorted delicately. “Unlikely. The man’s ego is as robust as his plots are flimsy.” She sliced open the envelope and unfolded the letter within.
Metropolitan Review, 25 January 1840
My Most Esteemed Miss Lovelace,
While I may not have plumbed the depths of theological discourse or fully comprehended the intricacies of fatherly devotion, I remain entirely capable of unwavering faith and boundless love for a child, should such a blessed occasion arise.
For you see, I possess the innate capacity to love with fervent passion. I have, in truth, loved most ardently, Miss Lovelace. I find myself wondering, with all due respect, whether you can claim the same?
I await your missive with bated breath,
A. Steele
“Blast and damnation! The gall of this pompous popinjay! Who does this A. Steele think he is, spouting such arrant nonsense? By Jove, I’ve never read such twaddle in all my days!” Elisha turned to Amelia, her face flushed with indignation.
Amelia stared wide-eyed at her friend after that outburst. Elisha paced the room, her skirts swishing furiously as she continued her tirade.
“Blast it, Amelia! This addlebrained nincompoop dares to question my capacity for love? The nerve of the man! He’s nothing but a blithering idiot with the wits of a turnip!”
Pausing to catch her breath, Elisha fanned herself vigorously with Steele’s letter before resuming.
“Confound it all! This letter is pure codswallop! I swear, if I ever lay eyes on this A. Steele, I’ll give him a piece of my mind that’ll make his ears ring! The insufferable pillock!”
Amelia’s hands flew to her mouth upon Elisha’s reference to the male member. In that moment, the office door swung open, drawing Elisha’s attention and revealing a striking gentleman. The sudden intrusion caused both women to start, their eyes widening in surprise.
“I beg your pardon, ladies. I couldn’t help but overhear the tirade. I thought I better rescue the poor man receiving this verbal assault.” The man’s lips curved into a pleasant smile.
Elisha was momentarily speechless as she studied the newcomer. He cut an imposing figure in his meticulously tailored suit, the cut of the garment emphasizing his lean frame. His tanned face was striking rather than classically handsome—black hair neatly cropped, straight brows arching over dark, intense eyes that seemed to pierce whatever they gazed upon. Though his eyes were small, giving him a perpetually scrutinizing look, there was something magnetic about his sharp features that drew and held one’s attention. He appeared to be perhaps three or four years their senior, old enough to lend him an air of worldly confidence but not so much as to place him in an entirely different sphere from Elisha and Amelia. The maturity sat well on his features, adding gravitas to his already commanding presence.
Amelia, quick to recover her composure, stepped forward. “Steven! What an unexpected pleasure. Please, allow me to introduce mydear friend, Miss Elisha Linde.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Also known as Miss Lovelace.”
The man nodded approvingly. Amelia turned to Elisha, who was still flushed from her outburst. “Elisha, this is Mr. Steven Thornton, my half-brother and our esteemed proprietor.”
Elisha curtsied hastily, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Mr. Thornton, I do beg your pardon for my unseemly behavior.”
Mr. Thornton waved off her apology with a good-natured smile. “Not at all, Miss Linde. I daresay it’s refreshing to hear such spirited discourse in these halls.” Holding her gaze and grinning with amusement, he continued, “I must apologize for my late arrival. I’ve just come from meeting with the solicitor for the company and thought I’d pop in to introduce myself.”
Amelia nodded, her countenance apprehensive but smiling nonetheless. “You are very welcome. Would you like a tour?”
