Page 96 of A Literary Liaison
“I am, Your Grace. I shall do whatever proves necessary to secure our future.”
The duchess squeezed her hand with genuine affection. “Excellent. We shall commence our campaign this very evening at dinner. Remember, you are now Elisha von Linde, and you must comport yourself with the quiet confidence of one born to privilege while maintaining the modesty appropriate to your station. Can you manage such a performance?”
Elisha straightened her posture and tilted her chin at precisely the angle she had observed among countless aristocratic ladies. “I believe I can, Your Grace.”
“Outstanding. Now, I shall provide you with one of Essie’s finest gowns—you are fortunately of similar proportions. Come along, my personal maid possesses quite magical abilities when it comes to transforming a lady’s appearance.”
*
Edgar stood atthe threshold of the grand dining hall, observing the steady procession of guests making their entrance. The chamber hadbeen transformed to accommodate the considerable number of attendees, with several smaller circular tables arranged throughout the space rather than the customary single long table. Each was elegantly appointed with the finest china, crystal, and gleaming silverware, while liveried footmen stood ready to guide guests to their designated seats.
His attention was immediately captured when his mother made her appearance. To his utter astonishment, Elisha was at her side, the two women engaged in what appeared to be animated and comfortable discourse. Edgar felt his breath catch at the sight of her, resplendent in an evening gown of deep purple silk that accentuated her graceful figure and brought out the emerald depths in her eyes.
As they approached his position, Edgar could not help but notice a subtle but unmistakable transformation in Elisha’s demeanor. She carried herself with a newfound air of quiet assurance, her chin tilted at an angle that suggested innate confidence rather than acquired boldness. It was a bearing he had witnessed countless times among the aristocracy, but on Elisha, it seemed both surprisingly natural and faintly troubling.
“Edgar, my dear,” his mother said as they reached him, her voice carrying a note of satisfaction that immediately put him on alert, “I’ve had the most delightful and illuminating conversation with Miss von Linde. Were you aware that her grandfather was a Prussian baron?”
Edgar’s eyebrows rose sharply in genuine surprise. This was certainly news to him, and he found himself studying Elisha’s face for any sign of discomfort or deception. Instead, he found only a serene smile and steady gaze.
“Indeed?” he managed, striving to maintain a neutral tone while his mind raced with questions. “How fascinating. I do not believe you have mentioned such distinguished lineage before, Miss von Linde.”
“Oh, I seldom speak of family history,” Elisha replied with perfect poise and just the right note of modest reticence. “It seemed rather impolite to call attention to such matters, particularly given thecurrent political tensions on the Continent.”
The duchess laughed with what sounded like genuine delight. “Nonsense, my dear child. You should take appropriate pride in your heritage. Come, allow me to introduce you to some of our other guests. I’m certain they would be most intrigued to hear about your childhood summers near Berlin.”
As his mother smoothly guided Elisha away toward a group of influential peers, Edgar felt a deep furrow creasing his brow. This unexpected development sat most uneasily with him. He had always held Elisha’s forthright nature and complete lack of pretension among her most admirable qualities. This sudden revelation of aristocratic connections seemed not only entirely out of character but potentially dangerous.
His growing misgivings only intensified as the formal dinner commenced. To his further astonishment, he discovered that Elisha had been seated at the high table—his own table at the head of the room—a position traditionally reserved for only the most distinguished guests. She was strategically placed between his mother and Lord Williams, one of the most influential and well-connected peers in attendance.
Throughout the elaborate meal, Edgar found his attention repeatedly drawn to Elisha’s end of the table. She appeared to be acquitting herself admirably in conversation with both Lord and Lady Williams, her melodious laughter occasionally rising above the general murmur in response to some witticism. In stark contrast to her apparent ease and growing confidence, Edgar remained tense and increasingly troubled.
As the first course was presented, Edgar leaned discreetly toward his mother. “Tell me, Mother, what inspired Miss von Linde’s prominent seating arrangement? It represents quite an aggressive introduction to Society.”
The duchess merely smiled with satisfaction. “I thought it wouldbe refreshing to alter our usual social hierarchy somewhat. Moreover, Miss von Linde has such fascinating stories to share about Continental Society. Were you aware she is fluent in German?”
Edgar’s frown deepened. If she possessed such linguistic skills, why had she shown no interest in Mr. Christian Heine’s recent literary soirée? Deciding to test this new narrative directly, he caught Elisha’s eye across the table and inquired in perfectly pronounced German, “Meine Mutter hat mir erzählt, dass Sie fließend Deutsch sprechen, Fräulein von Linde.”
Without missing a beat, Elisha smiled with becoming modesty and replied, “Die Herzogin schmeichelt mir, Euer Gnaden. Ich kann einfache Gespräche führen, spreche aber nicht fließend.”
Surprised and somewhat relieved that she was not engaging in complete fabrication, Edgar nodded approvingly before switching to French. “Et en français?”
“J’ai appris d’une française rencontrée en échange de cours d’anglais,” she responded smoothly.
Edgar addressed Elisha directly when other guests at his table were occupied in discourse. “Miss von Linde, I confess myself rather surprised not to have encountered you at Mr. Christian Heine’s exclusive literary gathering last week. Given your apparent linguistic abilities and obvious interest in Continental literature, I should have thought such an event would prove irresistible.”
Elisha’s serene smile remained perfectly composed. “Ah, indeed. I had harbored considerable hopes of attending, but my application for invitation was politely declined. It appears that my publication and I were not deemed sufficiently prestigious for such an exclusive gathering.”
Edgar’s expression shifted to one of genuine surprise and indignation. “Insufficiently prestigious? That seems utterly preposterous. Miss Lovelace and Mr. Steele have become the subject of intense discussion throughout London’s literary circles. Surely your professionalreputation should have secured your welcome.”
“You are most gracious to say so, Your Grace,” Elisha replied with perfect grace. “I fear not everyone shares your generous assessment of our modest efforts. I confess to considerable curiosity about the gathering, however… Was Mr. Steele himself in attendance?”
Edgar inclined his head in confirmation, noting with growing unease the sudden brightness in her eyes. “Indeed, his presence caused quite a sensation among the assembled literati.”
Elisha’s entire demeanor seemed to sparkle with barely contained interest. “How fascinating! Pray tell, what manner of man is he? I have often found myself pondering the character of the individual behind such compelling prose.”
Edgar studied her expression carefully, noting the eager curiosity that seemed to transcend mere professional interest. “Well, he proved younger than many had anticipated—I should estimate no more than thirty years. Tall in stature, with dark brown hair, and quite handsome if the ladies’ reactions provided any indication. He possesses considerable personal magnetism—charming yet intellectually formidable, with a sharp wit that kept even the most accomplished conversationalists alert.”
As he spoke, Edgar observed with growing dismay the faint but unmistakable blush that suffused Elisha’s cheeks. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with an emotion he could not precisely identify but knew instinctively he disliked.
