Chapter 18 The Forbidden Fruit #2
Edgar rose to his feet, a genuine smile breaking through his melancholy for the first time in weeks.
“Carlisle, Charlotte! What a delightful surprise!” He moved to greet them, kissing Charlotte’s hand and clapping Carlisle on the shoulder.
“Welcome back to England. I trust your journey across the Atlantic was tolerable?”
Carlisle chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement at Edgar’s unruly state. “More tolerable than whatever storm seems to have ravaged you, old friend. Or has your valet gone blind?”
Charlotte smiled warmly, though Edgar could see concern in her eyes. “It’s wonderful to see you, Your Grace, though I expected you to be in somewhat better spirits.”
“Ah, well,” Edgar replied, attempting to smooth his rumpled attire, “life can dampen even the most exuberant of souls. But tell me, what brings you to our shores?”
Carlisle’s expression turned slightly more serious. “Business, I’m afraid. I’ve some matters to attend to in London that will keep us here for the summer. I hope you don’t mind us pilfering through your liquor cabinet for such an extended period?”
“You’re always welcome here. A whole summer, you say? Splendid!” Edgar exclaimed, genuinely pleased to have his friends near during this difficult time.
Adams laid a hand on his shoulder, concern etched on his face. “It’s good to see your spirit lifted, Lancaster. What’s been troubling you so deeply?”
Edgar sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “It’s… complicated.”
“Let me guess,” Hereford smirked with knowing familiarity. “It involves a certain Miss Linde? I believe another missive was delivered to you. Read it.”
At the mention of Elisha’s name, Edgar’s carefully maintained composure cracked. He glanced at Carlisle and Charlotte, then back to his other friends. Her words were too precious, too private to share even with his dearest friends. He retreated to a corner by the window to read.
9 June 1840
Dear Mr. Steele,
Your letter has deeply moved me. Your understanding of love lost resonates profoundly, offering both comfort and disquiet. This pain, as you note, reminds me I’m alive and capable of deep feeling.
I’m humbled by love’s power to undo my once-prized emotional fortitude. Your honesty about falling in love easily is refreshing, and I envy your open heart.
Your words about a single interaction’s power to alter souls also comfort me. I’ve questioned my foolishness in being so affected by a brief encounter, and your assurance brings solace.
While I dare not hope the gentleman shares my sentiments, your kindness has become a light in these dark days.
Might I inquire further about your own heart’s battle? I assure you of my discretion, as we’ve indeed become confidants.
With deepest gratitude,
E. Lovelace
He braced his hands against the study window, watching raindrops trace paths down the glass like the tears he refused to shed.
“I dare not hope the gentleman shares my sentiments…”
Her pain was palpable. He had allowed her to believe she was a passing fancy.
That he wanted everything from her while giving little of himself.
Her scent still seemed to cling to his coat from their last encounter—lavender and jasmine, innocence and temptation wound together. He should burn the damned thing.
“I cannot promise matrimony,” he had told her. He could hardly contain the anger he felt with himself and their circumstances. He gripped the windowpane as if to shatter it.
“What happened? What’s this about?”
Carlisle’s voice startled him. Edgar turned around to face his friends whose expressions were etched with worry.
“Apologies,” he said hoarsely, approaching the group. “I suppose you might as well hear it.”
He proceeded to recount the entire story for Carlisle’s and Charlotte’s benefit—his dual identity as Steele, the wager, his growing feelings for Elisha, and the impossible situation he now found himself in.
As he spoke, Edgar felt both relief at unburdening himself and apprehension at how Charlotte, who came from humble circumstances herself, might view his difficulty.
When he finished, Carlisle whistled low. “That’s quite a predicament you’ve got yourself into, Lancaster.”
“When you say Miss Linde, do you mean Miss Elisha Linde?” Charlotte asked, her eyes brightening with recognition.
Edgar leaned forward eagerly. “Why, yes. Are you acquainted with her?”
“We are good friends, as I am with Miss Amelia Thornton. We bonded when we attended protests together a decade ago.”
Edgar felt his heart lift. “How serendipitous!”
Carlisle grinned. “Surely there must be a way to resolve this situation? I’m an earl and I managed to wed my Charlotte without a hitch.”
All the men stared at him in disbelief. Adams spoke dryly, “Your earldom was but one year old, and you were a stevedore before then. It hardly holds the same prestige as Lancaster’s dukedom.”
Edgar added, “And you had to move heaven and earth to marry your beloved. Do you not recall the misery you and your countess experienced?”
Carlisle’s brows furrowed while Charlotte stared at her husband with obvious amusement.
“How convenient that you have no memory of the suffering you bestowed upon me,” she said with fond exasperation.
“I recall what a scoundrel I was to you, darling. I suppose our issues were entirely different,” Carlisle admitted sheepishly.
Just as Adams was about to respond, Charlotte’s eyes lit up.
“What if we were to make Miss Linde the most famous critic in London? Endear her to the ton? Make her the most desirable and celebrated person. If the ton wants to be seen with her, you will not face any backlash. They will support you politically and socially.”
The group paused, each contemplating the suggestion. Edgar felt a glimmer of hope stir in his chest. “And how do you propose we do that?”
Hereford leaned forward, excitement building in his voice. “Start by writing to her again as Steele. Increase the stakes of your wager. Make it something the entire literary world will be watching.”
Edgar nodded slowly, his mind beginning to race with possibilities. “What sort of stakes did you have in mind?”
Edgar listened intently as his friends spent the next hour crafting an elaborate plan.
They decided on a special contest with a monetary award where readers across London would answer questions about Steele’s and Lovelace’s works.
Whoever gave the most accurate and best responses would win.
Readers would also vote for their favorite between the two tales.
This would involve public readings by actors for those who couldn’t afford to purchase the books.
“This is brilliant,” Edgar said, feeling genuine excitement for the first time in days. Suddenly, his expression turned solemn. “Perhaps I should reveal my identity to Miss Linde? I cannot in good conscience carry on with this facade. I am ashamed every time she confides in me about Steele.”
A chorus of protests erupted from his friends.
“Good God, man, have you taken leave of your senses?” Hereford’s eyes widened with disbelief.
Carlisle shook his head vehemently. “Lancaster, that would be most unwise. Consider the implications.”
Charlotte, ever the voice of reason, leaned forward. “Your Grace, I understand your desire for honesty, but revealing yourself as Steele could jeopardize everything we’re trying to achieve.”
Adams nodded in agreement. “Indeed. A wager against a duke may not be perceived as fair at all. It may upset those of lower stations. Not to mention Miss Linde feeling pressured to forfeit rather than risk humiliating a man of your station.”
Edgar’s brow furrowed. “Surely she wouldn’t forfeit so easily.”
Charlotte placed a gentle hand on Edgar’s arm. “Perhaps not, but it would undermine our entire plan. If Elisha knows she’s competing against you, how can she truly shine? The victory would always be tainted by the suspicion that you let her win.”
Edgar sank into a nearby chair, the weight of their arguments settling upon him. “I see your points,” he conceded reluctantly. “But keeping this secret… it feels like a betrayal of her trust.”
“Sometimes,” Adams said softly, “harmless deception is kinder. By maintaining this secret, you’re giving Miss Linde the opportunity to prove herself on her own merits, without the shadow of your title looming over her.
” Adams then cleared his throat, his expression turning grave.
“Speaking of deception, I took the liberty of investigating those unsavory rumors circulating about your supposed indiscretions.”
Edgar’s focus sharpened. “What did you discover?”
“The source appears to be none other than Steven Thornton.” Adams’ lips pressed into a thin line. “My investigation revealed he’s been quite strategic about it. He drops carefully worded insinuations about your character to select individuals—particularly those known for their loose tongues.”
“Thornton?” Edgar felt anger surge through him, though he couldn’t say he was entirely surprised. “The bastard.”
“I’ve exchanged some strong words with several newspaper editors,” Adams continued. “I’ve received assurances they won’t publish such unfounded allegations again.”
Hereford clapped Edgar on the shoulder encouragingly. “That’s one problem solved. Next, when Society is clamoring to be in Miss Linde’s good graces, you shall step forward as her devoted suitor.”
Edgar nodded, feeling his spirits lift considerably.
Carlisle spoke up with enthusiasm. “I suppose no grand victory party since you shall maintain your anonymity if you win, but you could have one for the public and fill the entire Metropolitan to this story to foster Miss Linde’s popularity even more.”
As the group settled back into planning the details of their scheme, Edgar felt a complex mix of emotions churning within him. Hope for the future, excitement at the prospect of elevating Elisha in Society’s eyes, and a nagging discomfort at the continued deception warred in his chest.
As they finalized the details, Edgar cleared his throat. “Speaking of unconventional matches, how fare you, my lady? Still breaking new ground in the legal world?”
Carlisle beamed with obvious pride. “Indeed she is. Charlotte’s just helped win a landmark case that’s set tongues wagging from here to Washington.”
“And how does society in America view such a contribution by a woman?” Adams asked with genuine curiosity.
“Some see it as progressive, others as scandalous. But we’ve found that popularity, rather than success, tends to silence even the loudest critics,” Charlotte replied thoughtfully.
Edgar nodded, absorbing this wisdom. “I suppose there’s a lesson in that for my own situation.”
As his friends prepared to leave, Edgar felt genuinely buoyed by the possibilities they’d outlined. “Countess, gentlemen, I cannot thank you enough for your counsel… and for dragging me out of my misery.”
Carlisle slapped him on the back with characteristic good humor. “That’s what friends are for, old boy. Now, for the love of God, shave that monstrosity off your face. You look like a vagrant philosopher.”
Laughter echoed through the study as Edgar’s thoughts turned to Steele and Lovelace’s feud. He needed to inject more heat and fire into his letters to keep the public hungry. No doubt she’d respond spectacularly. The thought made him smile.