“Since we’re all here,” Grantham announced once Mariah was left breathless and de Winter looked as though he could use a stiff drink, “I want you all gone by morning. Except you,” he amended for the earl. “You may stay.”
De Winter shrugged. “Someone has to be here to talk sense into you.”
Steepleton dumped his ash bowl onto a plate. “I do hope she condescends to marry you, Chelford. If not, my favorite flavor of humble pie is cherry. I shall lick the fork with relish.”
“My patience for you runs thin,” Grantham warned Steepleton. “I suggest you make haste before I do cut the menus down to gruel and porridge.”
Steepleton shot him a look of repugnance. Tewsey cracked a smile. Mariah, Becky, and the other lightskirts sulked. But by the next afternoon, his house was blessedly silent. Not a distraction remained, and his drawing room no longer reeked of smoke and ferment. He was finally free to sit in his favorite chair and be alone with his thoughts.
That was when he remembered the reason he invited them to Chelford every year.
Hannah.
AFTER TWO days of moping, Elinor came to the conclusion that she was much better off for having learned Lord Chelford was a libertine now, rather than later. She could move on to the business of becoming a spinster without the wrong-headed hope that her white knight would appear one day to change her life forever.
Except she couldn’t quite put Lord Chelford from her mind. No matter how thoroughly Aunt Millie tried to distract her with the benefits of applying egg yolks to her hair or the importance of pretty undergarments to a woman’s sense of completion, Elinor thought of him. Would he notice her hair shined softly? Would anyone but her maid ever have the opportunity to appreciate how long her legs looked in her new ivory-colored garters?
It was embarrassingly evident that she hadn’t forgotten him yet, as much as she’d tried. So when she glimpsed him striding up to the cottage with his greatcoat swirling about his legs and his breath puffing from his lips like steam rising from her morning chocolate, she was very sure no good could come of his reappearance in her life.
“Aunt Millie,” she whispered frantically, motioning for her aunt to join her at the window, “exactly how well do you know Lord Chelford?”
Her aunt peered over her shoulder. “I know his name. I know his face. Yes, that about sums it up.”
Elinor twisted to see her. “You made it seem more than that!”
One flaming brow arched. Otherwise, Aunt Millie retained perfect guiltlessness. “Sometimes gossip has a way of making one feel better acquainted. Well, then, this must be my chance for an introduction. Use the mirror, darling, while I distract him in the foyer.”
Elinor trailed her aunt into the hallway. “Surely he can’t be welcome here!”
“Mirror, darling.”
It seemed her aunt couldn’t be reasoned with. After expelling a sigh of resignation, Elinor went to the looking glass just inside the parlor door. Warm air from the fireplace must have warred with the damp weather to turn her hair into a frizzing nimbus of reddish curls. But after batting at the wisps with little success, she gave up and tiptoed into the hallway. Voices drifted from the foyer. One might have assumed that she’d learned her lesson about eavesdropping… But alas, no.
“…you’ve finally braved my front door,” her aunt was saying in that velvety voice of hers. “Third time’s the charm, hmm?”
Elinor halted abruptly. Had Grantham come before?
His chuckle sounded self-conscious. “I didn’t think you kept such a close eye on the gate.”
“One never knows what kind of riffraff will try to get in.”
Another awkward chuckle. “That is the precise sentiment, ma’am, that has brought me here today. You see, I tried sending an invitation to this direction and I’m afraid it was returned unopened, both times. I fear I’ve offended you.”
“Perhaps.” Aunt Millie drew out the s so slowly, it hissed through her teeth.
Elinor peeked around the doorframe. Her aunt’s fingers waggled behind her back as if beckoning Elinor to join them.
Elinor moved into the open doorway so she was visible. “Are you lost, Lord Chelford?”
When his gaze flicked to hers, she drew a sharp breath. “I seem to be in the right place now.” His warm voice held no hint of the discord between them.
“My cook keeps a sweet cordial in the pantry,” Aunt Millie announced. She swept past Elinor. “I think I’ll go find it.” The door to the kitchens thumped closed moments later.
Lord Chelford doffed his tall beaver hat and set it on a hook by the entry. Rightfully, he didn’t attempt to come toward her. “I hope your Christmas passed uneventfully, all things considered.”