Forever your Earl by Eva Leigh

Author:Eva Leigh [Leigh, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-09-30T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Is there any surer way to ensnare a woman than through the judicious usage of silk?

The Hawk’s Eye, May 11, 1816

Damn. Damn.

Eleanor wanted to throw something. Anything. But all she had in her office were stacks of paper, and those weren’t particularly satisfying to hurl against a wall. She mulled kicking her desk, but her boots weren’t very sturdy, and she’d probably hurt herself.

So she closed the door to her office and allowed herself the release of swearing. Considerably. At great volume.

Why was she so bloody angry? It wasn’t as though Ashford hadn’t expressed opinions she had never heard before. People called her work, and The Hawk’s Eye, trash. Or they damned it, and her, with faint praise. You’re too talented to waste yourself on ephemera. Why don’t you try writing something real? Something with actual substance?

She’d spoken the truth to the earl. She took great pride in her work. In what her newspaper did. There was nothing wrong with providing an hour’s entertainment, especially when the reality of most people’s lives was often grim and unrelenting. If she could give a harried mother a moment’s respite, or relieve the tedium of a banking clerk’s day, then what was wrong with that?

These were all arguments she’d made in the past, and with countless people, male and female. She didn’t expect most to understand the why and wherefore of what she did.

Yet she’d hoped, somehow, that Ashford would be different. He hadn’t appeared so. Not at first. But it had seemed that his opinion of her work, of her, had changed. And she’d been glad of it. Someone who understood her. What pushed and drove her ambition, her love.

It had felt so good.

But she’d been wrong about him. He was just like the others. Trivializing what she toiled over. Thinking her somehow “better” than the thing she adored. As though she couldn’t judge for herself what deserved her focus and energy.

Disappointment curled in her acidly. She cursed herself for thinking that he was different. Because, in spite of himself, he’d shown some interest in the running of the paper. As no other man had ever shown. Because he’d been angry on her behalf for her youthful struggles. Only Maggie had shown her as much sympathy, but Maggie was the only other person Eleanor had allowed to know of her past. Certainly, Eleanor hadn’t ever revealed her early history to any man. She could tell herself that Ashford had forced her disclosure, but she knew differently. It had been her choice to bare herself to him in that way. And she’d wanted to.

She’d wanted him to be special. His opinion mattered to her. That had been her mistake.

Her gaze fell on the large paperboard box, still sitting on her desk. She’d given up the story of her childhood in exchange for learning the contents of that box. And now she didn’t even want to look inside.

No, that wasn’t true. She still burned with curiosity to know what was in it. But another part of her wanted to return it unopened.

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