Page 93 of A Literary Liaison
Despite her best efforts to remain unmoved, she found herself searching his face for signs of deception. “What are you talking about?”
“The pamphlets,” he said quietly, and her breath caught. “The Pioneers. The Royal Mail contract.”
Understanding began to dawn, though she hardly dared hope. “The Royal Mail contract?”
“It’s crucial to everything we’ve been working toward,” Edgar said urgently. “With control of the postal system, we could expand our distribution network across all of England. Every town, every village—we could reach them all with our message of reform.”
“And Miss Hargrove?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
A rueful smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Has been conducting a rather passionate affair with my secretary. When you saw her leaving the house in such disarray, she’d been meeting with him in my absence. Poor Simmons was appalled by the impropriety but felt obligated to escort her out properly.”
Hope fluttered tentatively in Elisha’s chest, though she tried to suppress it. “You’ve been so distant since we returned to London…”
“To protect the mission,” he said with fierce conviction. “If anyone connected you to me during these delicate negotiations, it could expose both our reform activities and compromise the Royal Mail contract. Thornton may already suspect our involvement with thePioneers. I couldn’t risk everything we’ve worked for, no matter how much I wanted to see you.”
The explanation made terrible sense but doubt lingered. “Why did you not inform me of this?”
Edgar’s expression darkened. “I sent several messages to your lodgings, each one marked for your personal receipt only. None reached you?”
She shook her head, and his jaw clenched with suppressed fury.
“Thornton,” he ground out. “He must have intercepted them.”
Before she could respond, Edgar’s hands framed her face with exquisite gentleness. “I’ve spent this entire evening watching you, not anyone else. The way you touched your throat when you were listening to Lady Camperdown’s story about her travels. How Thornton’s hand deliberately lingered at your glove when his sister spoke of her garden. The way you unconsciously swayed to the music even while claiming you couldn’t dance.”
“You noticed all that?” Elisha whispered, her carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble.
“I noticed everything,” he said with quiet intensity. “How you kept to the edges of the room, observing everyone with those keen eyes of yours. How you bit your lower lip exactly seventeen times—yes, I counted—while pretending not to look in my direction.”
She felt heat rise to her face at the embarrassing detail.
“I have to continue this charade a little longer,” he continued, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. “I have to smile and make pleasant conversation while dying inside every time Thornton makes you laugh. I have to pretend I don’t want to call him out every time he stands too close.” His voice grew rough with emotion. “But don’t for one moment think my heart isn’t entirely, irrevocably yours.”
“Edgar,” she breathed, and suddenly the fight went out of her completely.
“I love you,” he said simply, the words carrying the weight ofabsolute truth. “Only you. Always you.”
Unable to resist any longer, she reached up to touch his face, marveling at the way he leaned into her palm as if starved for her touch. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Never,” he said fiercely, covering her hand with his own. “You couldn’t lose me if you tried.”
When he kissed her, it was with desperate tenderness, as if he could pour all his love and regret and longing into the connection of their lips. She melted against him, her arms circling his neck as months of separation and misunderstanding dissolved in the heat of renewed passion.
“We should return,” she murmured against his mouth when they finally broke apart, though she made no move to step away.
“Yes,” he agreed, though his arms tightened around her waist. “Though it will take every ounce of my self-control to watch you dance with other men for the rest of the evening.”
“Then perhaps,” she said with a smile that felt like sunshine after rain, “you should claim the next waltz before anyone else has the chance.”
His answering grin was pure happiness. “My lady, it would be my very great honor.”
As they prepared to return to the ballroom, Edgar caught her hand one final time. “There’s something else you should know,” he said seriously. “About Thornton’s manipulations tonight, about his interference with our correspondence—this cannot continue. After tonight, we move forward together, openly. No more shadows, no more deceptions.”
Elisha squeezed his fingers, her heart soaring with renewed hope. “Together,” she agreed.
Mother’s Approval
The duchess’ privateparlor, where the Lancaster family had assembled, was full of vigor and animated voices. Edgar occupied a plush armchair, his siblings arrayed about him in various positions of repose, while the duchess held court nearest the hearth. The servants attended to their duties, proffering tea as the siblings, still attired in their riding habits, regarded Edgar with barely concealed concern.
