Page 78 of A Literary Liaison
The firelight caught his profile, highlighting the aristocratic lines that spoke of generations of nobility.
“And even if I could offer you such independence,” he continued, turning back to face her, “it would create expectations among my siblings and their future spouses. They would, quite rightly, expect the same treatment.”
Elisha watched him from the settee, noting how his fingers seemed to flex at his sides—a subtle tell she’d learned meant he was steeling himself for something important. The air in the room seemed to thicken with anticipation.
“But, Elisha,” he said, crossing back to her with purpose. “While I can’t offer you what Thornton can in terms of business and financial independence, I can offer you something else. Something I believe to be far more valuable.”
He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. The position, reminiscent of a proposal, made her heart flutter despite their already intimate connection. His hands were warm around hers, strong and sure, yet holding her as if she were something precious.
“I offer you partnership in a cause greater than ourselves,” he said, his voice taking on that passionate tone that had first drawn her to him. “The work we do, the reforms we fight for—they have the power to change lives, to reshape society for the better.”
His eyes seemed to blaze with conviction as he continued, “I know it’s not the security Thornton offers. Our path will be fraught with danger, with uncertainty. But it will also be filled with purpose, with the knowledge that every day, we’re working toward something truly meaningful.”
“Reform?” she asked, her heart pounding against her ribs. “To what do you refer?”
“I am aware that you are one of the authors of the reform pamphlets, Elisha.”
The words rendered her speechless. She tried to withdraw her hands, but Edgar held firm, his touch gentle but insistent. “How… How came you by this knowledge?”
Edgar leaned closer, his voice dropping to that intimate register that seemed to bypass her ears and speak directly to her heart. “My friend and private investigator, Patrick Adams, saw you meet with Mark Evans.” The name of her childhood friend made her start, but Edgar’s thumbs traced what felt like soothing circles on her wrists. “Further inquiries led us to a small print shop on the outskirts of London.”
Elisha’s breath hitched. The clandestine print shop had been her sanctuary, the place where her most dangerous words took physical form. The memory of ink-stained hands and the metallic scent of printing plates mingled with her rising fear.
“The proprietor, Mr. Symon, was initially reticent,” Edgar continued, his eyes never leaving hers. In the deepening dusk, they seemed to glow with an inner fire. “However, upon learning of my intentions, he confided in me. He spoke of a lady, whose description matched yours precisely, who would visit in the dead of night to collect thefreshly printed pamphlets.”
A log shifted in the grate, sending up a shower of sparks that matched the panic sparking in Elisha’s chest. But Edgar’s expression seemed to hold nothing of condemnation—only what looked like fierce pride and something deeper, more tender.
“Fear not, my sweet,” he murmured, releasing one of her hands to cup her cheek. His palm was warm against her cool skin. “I took measures to ensure your safety. I purchased the print shop, installing a trusted associate as the new proprietor. The plates used for your pamphlets have been replaced with near-identical copies, each bearing a unique, barely perceptible mark.”
Understanding dawned in Elisha’s eyes as the implications of his words sank in. All this time, while she’d been terrified of discovery, he had been quietly protecting her, supporting her cause from the shadows.
“The true plates remain hidden, allowing your important work to continue unimpeded.”
He brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss to her knuckles. “I’ve also taken the liberty of establishing a network of trusted individuals to aid in the storage and distribution of your writings. They are unaware of your identity, of course, but are sympathetic to the cause.”
Elisha listened, her heart a maelstrom of emotions. Fear at how close she had come to discovery warred with profound gratitude for his efforts. Admiration for his ingenuity and dedication to her cause swelled within her, mixing headily with the love that already consumed her.
“But why?” The question escaped her on a trembling breath. “What happened to having no real conviction?”
Edgar’s expression seemed to soften, what looked like vulnerability crossing his features that made him appear younger. “Ah,” he said quietly. His hand dropped from the mantel as he turned to face herfully. “The man I was then… he seems a stranger to me now.”
He moved closer, moonlight and firelight playing across his aristocratic features. “I was raised to believe that maintaining the status quo was not just my right, but my duty. That change was dangerous, that reform threatened the very fabric of society.” A self-deprecating smile touched his lips. “I was so certain of my convictions, or rather, my lack of them. And then…”
Elisha waited patiently, her heart thundering against her ribs.
“And then I met you.” His voice roughened with emotion. “You challenged everything I thought I knew. Your passion, your intelligence, your unwavering belief in the possibility of a better world… It was like watching the sun rise after a lifetime of darkness.”
He reached for her hand, his touch reverent. “Your words and your actions haunted me. I found myself lying awake at night, concerned about your well-being, wishing I could be there to protect you.” His voice roughened with emotion. “Then I became angry that you found it necessary to take that kind of risk. Our duty as a society should be to protect all citizens. The more I observed, the more I read your writings, the more I couldn’t ignore the truth in them.”
“So you…” she whispered, hardly daring to believe. The firelight caught the unshed tears in her eyes, making them glimmer like stars.
“I decided I would like a society that values its every citizen, not just the wealthy or titled. It will not be easy, but I would like to try… with you.” He shook his head with a quiet laugh. “Well, I discovered I had quite a talent for subversion.”
Elisha’s heart swelled with emotion, and she threw herself at him, entwining her arms around his neck as an overwhelming tide of emotion swept through her. Edgar held her tight, then took her mouth with his, all the frustrations of the past two months seeming to explode with impatience. He held a fistful of her hair with one hand while his mouth slanted to meet hers. Elisha’s lips parted, her eyelids fluttering closed, and her body leaned against Edgar as if drawn by aninvisible force. Her hands, which had been clutching her shawl tightly, slowly relaxed and reached for his shoulders.
She felt overwhelmed by the sensations of his heat, his essence molding to her, silken lips that seemed to melt beneath her own, the scent of soap mingling with the sweet taste of his mouth. She didn’t feel capable of absorbing it all without… bursting.
The kiss was a revelation, sweet and intoxicating. Her heart felt as though it might explode with joy, every cell in her body alive with the sensation of Edgar in her arms.
