Page 113 of A Literary Liaison
Dickens stepped forward to address the crowd, his voice carrying the moral authority that had made him the conscience of a generation. “If you wish to bring charges against His Grace for his commitment to justice, then you must be prepared to charge us all. For we are united in our belief that literature has the power to illuminate truth and inspire change.”
Charlotte Brontë’s quiet voice added, “We stand together not as rebels, but as witnesses to truth. If that makes us criminals, then let history judge who truly served justice.”
The room erupted into chaos, but this time, for a different reason. The focus was no longer on the scandal but the solidarity. Voices rose in defense rather than condemnation.
“Shame on those who would silence our greatest minds!” called out someone from the back.
“These authors have brought honor to England!” shouted another.
As Elisha watched the literary community rally around them, she felt a profound sense of gratitude and humility. Whatever anger she felt toward Edgar’s deception paled beside the magnitude of their sacrifice.
The Proposal
The room stillbuzzed with heated discussions between supporters and critics of the assembled authors when Edgar stepped forward from the group of literary giants surrounding him. The sight of him moving toward the front of the stage made conversations falter and heads turn. Even in his working man’s clothes, his bearing commanded attention.
Elisha watched him approach with her heart hammering against her ribs. The man she loved—the man who had deceived her for months—was about to speak, and she had no idea what words could possibly bridge the chasm that had opened between them.
Edgar’s eyes found hers across the few feet that separated them, and in them she saw a vulnerability she had never witnessed before. Not the confident duke, not the mysterious Mr. Steele, but simply a man who may lose everything.
Around them, the crowd had fallen completely silent, sensing they were about to witness something unprecedented.
“Miss von Linde,” Edgar said, taking a step closer to her. “I stand before you not as the Duke of Lancaster, not as Mr. Steele, but as Edgar—simply Edgar—a man who has made grievous errors and wishes to make amends.”
The formality of his address wasn’t lost on her. He was acknowledging that he had forfeited the right to intimacy, that he was starting from the beginning.
Tears began to gather in Elisha’s eyes despite her efforts to maintain composure.
His voice grew rough with emotion. “My greatest sin was perhaps not the deception itself, but the arrogance that led me to believe I had the right to make such choices for you. You deserved the truth, deserved the chance to decide for yourself whether a man capable of such duplicity was worthy of your affection.”
Elisha’s tears were flowing freely now, though she couldn’t tell if they were born of heartbreak or hope.
Edgar slowly lowered himself to one knee in front of her, and gasps rippled through the assembled crowd. The sight was extraordinary—a duke kneeling before anyone in public was shocking enough, but the mixed assembly made it even more remarkable.
“Your Grace,” someone whispered, “surely this is highly irregular!”
But others—particularly the working-class attendees who understood the value of love over station—called out encouragement. “Good on you, sir!” shouted a voice from the back.
“Elisha,” he said, and the use of her given name felt like a caress after the formal distance of moments before. “When I first put pen to paper, it was to ease the suffering of a heart torn asunder by loss. With each letter we exchanged, each verbal sparring match, I felt the ice around my heart begin to thaw. As Miss Lovelace and yourself, you challenged me, inspired me, and ultimately, made me believe in the possibility of love once more. You taught me that true nobility lies not in birth, but in character.”
His voice softened, becoming almost reverent. “With you, I am not just a better man. I am whole. I stand before you now, stripped of all pretenses, offering you my heart, my soul, my very being. For in loving you, I have found my true self. And if you’ll have me, I vow to spend every day of my life striving to be worthy of the love you’ve awakened in me.”
The silence in the room was absolute. Even the sounds from the street beyond seemed muted as London’s elite and common folk alike held their collective breath.
Elisha stared down at him, her mind reeling. Everything she had believed about their relationship had been built on lies, yet the man kneeling before her was offering something she had never expected: complete honesty, vulnerability, and a chance to begin again.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Steven Thornton. He stood frozen at the edge of the stage, his face a canvas of conflicting emotions. The rage and desperation that had driven him to expose Edgar’s secrets had transformed into something else entirely. As he watched Edgar’s vulnerable declaration, watched the raw honesty passing between the two people he had tried to tear apart, understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes.
His shoulders sagged slightly, the fight draining out of him as he witnessed something he had never truly comprehended before.
Thornton’s hands, which had been clenched into fists, slowly uncurled. His face, which had been twisted with bitter triumph only moments before, softened with what looked remarkably like resignation—and perhaps, grudging respect.
In the distance, the sounds of the New Year’s celebration continued, oblivious to the drama unfolding within these walls. Soon, midnight would strike and a new year would begin.
Elisha’s eyes filled with tears as she looked down at Edgar—truly looked at him for the first time without the veils of deception between them.
This was all too much to comprehend. She needed more time.
Without a word, she stepped back from Edgar’s kneeling form. The crowd murmured in confusion as she turned away, and to her eternal gratitude, Amelia appeared at her side.
