The trouble was that he was not reacting as much as she would wish, given the beautiful timing of her barbs.
He just seemed to sit there and be amused by it all.
Amusing, was it, for his character to be so maligned by someone who knew exactly what he was capable of? It would only show his true nature, if he were to continue in such a way. He was a master in the art of villainy and depravity, and she had no qualms at all about letting her entire family know it.
The only trouble she could possibly imagine would come from the quarters of her parents or Uncle James. They all held great stock in being hospitable and warm, and during the holiday season, it was even more pronounced. They were the merriest of people, and they would never hear of behaving with anything less.
She would never have gotten away with her antics in the blue room had one of them been present.
Strategy would be key to preventing her family from being drawn in by Hugh if she wanted to avoid being resoundingly scolded publicly.
She would never live that shame down, particularly if he were to witness it.
Her abrupt departure from the blue room couldn’t be helped, particularly with the creature staring at her so. It was unnerving in the extreme, and she wished, most heartily, that one of the other Spinsters were in the house to commiserate with her on the subject. No one else would understand the full scope of this atrocity and the potential for future evils he presented.
Even now, she was huffing as she strode down to the kitchens, determined to speak to the drivers that had been so unfortunate as to also be stranded at Deilingh. They would be able to answer a few of her more important questions, and she was in desperate need of answers.
The kitchens were bustling, as they always seemed to be at this time of year, and Mrs. Larpenteur was right in the thick of it, ordering everyone about with an efficiency that would have made Wellington proud. Elinor glanced around the overheated space and moved to the table where two weary men sat.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said politely as she approached. “Would you happen to be the coachmen that came in with my father not long ago?”
They both rose quickly and bowed.
“Yes, miss,” the taller one said, his voice almost shockingly deep.
“Please thank your father for allowing us to stay,” the stouter man said, his bristled mustache twitching slightly. “Most generous.”
Elinor smiled rather ruefully. “I can answer for my father, sir, in saying it’s no trouble, and that it is entirely my father’s nature to do so. I wonder if you both might answer a question for me.”
The drivers looked at each other, then back at her.
“If we are able, miss,” the burly one said.
She nodded at that. “The unfortunate damage to the carriage that was stuck. How long do you expect the repairs will take? I would hate for your master to miss celebrating Christmas as he had planned, if it can be avoided.”
The tall man smiled with more warmth than her lie deserved. “Generally, it depends on the skill of the craftsmen to be found and how quickly they can accommodate our needs. But your uncle has seen to it that repairs are already underway, so it is possible that the carriage could be ready in a day or two.”
“Marvelous!” Elinor exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Mr. Sterling will be so pleased!”
“But,” the other interjected, “we must also consider the weather, miss. The roads may not be passable. Our coach carrying Mr. John Winthrop struggled, as well, and we were coming from the south.”
Elinor continued to nod. “Of course, of course. But if the roads improve, he might arrive in time to celebrate Christmas with his family!”
The tall driver bowed in acknowledgement. “Indeed, miss. He just might.”
She thanked them for their indulgence and fairly skipped out of the kitchens, delighted by the news.
If the carriage could be mended as quickly as they suggested, Hugh would be out of their house in two days at the most. She would clear the roads herself with her bare hands if she had to, or bring wooden slats to cover the muddy ruts, or pull the blasted coach herself if it would see him far away from her.
She could save Christmas for herself and her family, if this all went smoothly.
Hugh Sterling would not ruin this for her.
Elinor sighed as she reached the main level again, then looked at the greenery in her hands, which she had somehow forgotten in all the fuss.
Ugh. Mistletoe. Cursed plant with its cursed tradition encouraging the kissing of unwed girls by men with nothing honorable to occupy their time or their minds.
There was nothing wrong with the married couples who chose to continue the traditions, if they so desired, but really, what good could such a plant do for those without such ties?
It would be only too tempting an opportunity for a blackguard the likes of Hugh Sterling to take advantage of.
Her chest seized as she considered her innocent, naive younger sisters. They had yet to fully engage in a London Season, and they would know nothing of his machinations, or indeed the nature of any man with similar inklings.
She had to protect them. To save them. The Spinsters were not here to help her; she was on her own. It was time, then, to take matters into her own hands.
She set the mistletoe down behind a tapestry before striding towards the large parlor at the back of the house where the family was more inclined to gather, if they gathered at all.
It was rare that they did.
As she approached the room, she knew that this was one of those rare times. She could see four cousin husbands as well as Uncle Dough standing behind one of the sofas, which would indicate that they were unable to sit upon it. Aunt Beatrice and Aunt Julia sat in their usual chairs against the wall, glasses of port in hand.
How very typical.
The only question was whether the entire family was within, or only a portion of them, and if their guests had joined them.
She strode into the room, smiling for all, turning her attention to the front of the room, as the others did, where her father was talking.
The smile faded at once when she saw Hugh standing near him, smiling sheepishly.
Hugh Sterling did not know how to be sheepish.
She frowned at once as she stood next to Uncle Dough. “What’s happening?” she whispered.
Uncle Dough grunted, his girth shifting with an inhale. “Your father feels the need to make a speech about your Mr. Sterling there.”
“He is not my Mr. Sterling, Uncle Dough,” Elinor muttered snappishly. “Far from it. And what about him?”
Uncle Dough indicated Hugh with a flick of his plump hand. “He’s been convinced to stay through Christmas, at your father and uncle’s insistence.”
Elinor stared at Uncle Dough in horror. “He’s what? But I’ve just spoken to the drivers, and they told me that the wheel and axle could be fixed in a day or two. Why remain the further few days?”
“Because, as your father so eloquently said, ‘it would be deuced uncharitable to send a man off the moment his coach is better with Christmas so near.’” Uncle Dough scoffed, not nearly as filled with Christian generosity as the others. “Doesn’t say much of Sterling’s festive plans that he is so free to give them up to remain with us, does it?”
The sound that escaped Elinor was not entirely ladylike, but it bore no profanities.
Discernable ones, anyway.
“I doubt Mr. Sterling is above accepting what is freely offered,” Elinor informed Uncle Dough, “and I further doubt he had anything better to do with his time. A man of his nature and proclivity never does. Why not remain with a moderately wealthy, generous family, and take advantage of the situation? It may have been that he sabotaged his own coach for the sake of a more comfortable situation.”
Uncle Dough gave her a sidelong look as her father continued to speak to the rest of the family. “You take quite a critical view of the man.”
Elinor folded her arms, shaking her h
ead firmly. “I only speak as I find, Uncle Dough. He is nothing but trouble, and the worst of it at that. I am all too well acquainted with him in London.”
“Should we warn your father, then?”
If only she could.
She shook her head once more, dipping her chin to glare at the intruder darkly. “It won’t make any difference, and you know it. Papa is determined to be kind-hearted to a fault, and this, I can assure you, is a fault. A rather vile one.”
Uncle Dough grunted, returning his attention to the front of the room, tilting his head a touch. “I appreciate your view on the matter, dear, to be sure, but… He doesn’t seem particularly vile. A bit gaunt in the face, perhaps. Peaky, to be sure, and not quite tall enough to be imposing, as one might wish to be. Still, he complimented your mother creditably, showed no disdain with the children, and I have yet to see him scowl.”
“Even reptiles can smile when they have to,” Elinor insisted, refusing to clap when the others did at something or other her father said.
“Don’t snarl,” her uncle advised in a low tone, betraying her slightly by offering a few claps of his hands. “It will make your displeasure more evident, and someone will comment.”
Elinor sputtered softly. “Whatever would that be like?”
“Elinor…” He raised a scolding brow. “Don’t ruin Christmas for the family in an attempt to rid the house of Mr. Sterling.”
“Oh, I don’t intend to, Uncle Dough,” she assured him, allowing her lips to curve just a little. “But I do very much intend to inform our Mr. Sterling of the expectations for his stay with us. And the limitations.”
“Our Mr. Sterling? Interesting,” Uncle Dough grunted and sipped some suspicious-looking punch. “Suit yourself.” He moved away from her, ambling towards some of her cousins, one or two of whom seemed markedly interested in their now not-as-temporary guest.
“Don’t even think about it, girls,” she told them, though they hadn’t a hope of hearing her, muttering the words under her breath as she was.
Hugh Sterling wasn’t going to ruin their Christmas, and he most certainly wasn’t going to ruin hers.
But if she could find a way to ruin his without ruining anyone else’s along the way, she would find it to be quite a festive gift indeed.
Amazingly, there wasn’t a single opportunity to say anything to Hugh until they had finished supper and all the family and guests included were moving towards the drawing room for some light evening entertainment, if not dancing.
The one time in her life when she actually sought opportunity to speak with the vile man, and she couldn’t even manage it.
Though, in all honesty, she couldn’t be blamed for it.
Somehow, Hugh Sterling had made himself so widely agreeable among her family that he was in company almost constantly. If it wasn’t her uncle or father, it was the cousin husbands wanting tales of London, as they rarely ventured there, or it was her unmarried female cousins trying to engender a good impression on an eligible visitor.
And then there were the children.
Elinor could not understand it, but the children seemed to flock to him, and he never once swatted them away or seemed remotely displeased. Any man in his situation would have every reason to be markedly annoyed with the rambunctious children of his hosts, particularly when he would have little enough experience with children at all.
Hugh Sterling seemed as pleased to see them as he was to see any given person.
It wasn’t possible. The man she knew was not pleased by anything but sin, idleness, and villainy. He sought to make himself a nuisance just for amusement and took great delight in voicing displeasure. He was evil, he was spoiled, and he was smug.
He was also changed.
In looks, at least. His hair was a shade darker, his stature less proper, his jaw more angular. He had lost the pasty, bland look he had always worn before, and the youthful tint to his features. His eyes were clearer than she could ever remember seeing, and without the bloodshot background, the blue in them seemed to stand out more brightly.
He was an older Hugh Sterling, and somehow not just with the loss of some weight, as had clearly occurred.
If she did not know better, she would also have noted a newfound level of maturity in him.
Considering he had only ever been as mature as an ill-mannered twelve-year-old, that was no special accomplishment.
And she refused to accept that a more attractive Hugh Sterling was a more mature one.
Or a truly changed one.
Or anything worthy of praise or positive attention.
Until she could swear before God otherwise, he would still be her nemesis.
And while she could, she would take the opportunity to let him know that.
“Mr. Sterling,” she called softly as she approached him, carefully smiling for all appearances. “A moment?”
He turned and gave her a look, which she pointedly ignored. “Miss Asheley. Of course, I am at your service.”
His tone was not nearly as polite as his words were, and her smile became pointedly strained, the ribbon at her throat feeling like a noose.
“Lovely,” she ground out, barely managing to not snarl.
“Is that how you would like me to compliment you?” he inquired, clasping his hands behind his back with a slight bow. “Very well, Miss Asheley, in that shade of red, I find you…”
“Shut up,” she hissed, gathering her skirts in her hands and huffing away from him with a jerk of her head. “That’s not funny.”
When her steps softened in their tread, he said, “It was not an attempt at humor. I take paying compliments quite seriously.”
Elinor scowled at him as she paused at a grand window not far from the drawing room door, but far enough away to avoid being overheard. “I would, too, if I were so out of practice giving sincere compliments.”
Hugh’s mouth twitched into a hint of a smile. “Forgive me, I thought you were, particularly with the male sex.”
“Show me a man worth complimenting, and I will do so.”
Now he did smile, though he kept it restrained. “Shall I fetch your father? Your uncle? Your brother or cousins or Mr. John Winthrop, perhaps?”
Elinor rolled her eyes and knitted her fingers, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. You’re an impossible sot even without the influence of drink.”
“I believe that is called being a Sterling, Miss Asheley,” he informed her, giving a sage nod. “See also my brother Lord Sterling, and our cousin Tony. I believe you know him well.”
This was going nowhere at a breakneck pace.
“Allow me to be quite direct, Mr. Sterling,” she all but barked, her eyes flicking towards the open drawing room door.
“It is your home, Miss Asheley, I will allow you almost anything.”
Elinor paused, clenching her teeth so hard her jaw ached. “You will not ruin Christmas for my family,” she told him.
He lifted one brow. “I have no intention of doing so. It would be quite rude.”
She ignored that. “You will not speak with my sisters unaccompanied.”
Hugh nodded. “That is generally the polite way of things.”
In lieu of screeching, she dug her nails into the palms of her hands. “And if I catch you with any of my relations in an empty corridor, Hugh Sterling, so help me…”
His expression turned into one of complete disbelief. “I didn’t get stranded here deliberately, you know. I had a set destination, and it was not your family’s country home at Christmas.”
“I wouldn’t trust you to not take advantage of whatever situation you found yourself in with the express purpose of furthering your own selfish interests,” she snapped, positively fuming now.
The corridor was almost completely silent, only the echoes of conversation in the drawing room audible as Hugh stared at her, his eyes searching.
“Out of curiosity, how many counts of villainy do you think me guilty of? I’m wondering if I’ve reached the level of �
�demon of hell’ yet.”
Somehow, she found his statement amusing, and the urge to laugh welled up, though she tamped it down quite forcefully.
“It’s difficult to say,” she managed to express with surprising calmness. “You blessed us all by staying away from London for so many months, I hardly know how many sins you engaged in while thus occupied.”
Hugh’s face suddenly contorted into one of sheer torment, and he took a step towards her. “Do not dare to presume that I exiled myself only to sink further into the life of misery I had gotten myself into,” he hissed, his words sounding as though they rasped painfully against his throat. “You have no idea what I have suffered. What I have endured. No matter how you hate me, Elinor Asheley, it cannot compare to how I have hated myself of late.”
She had not expected that outburst, not in the slightest. She had hoped he had felt some remorse for what had happened to Alice, but this was beyond anything.
She stared at him in shock, gaping. Then she swallowed. “Hate is a strong word,” she reminded him.
“The emotions behind it are stronger,” he insisted, seeming to recover some part of himself and turning away. He moved to the window, his face taking on new shadows and angles in the moonlight, and none of them softening him. “I am not the man I was, though I know full well that it may never be believed as possible. That is my burden to bear.” He lowered his head, then glanced towards her. “I pray you find some way to avoid making it a heavier one than it already is.”
Elinor tilted her head, unwittingly curious. “Are you asking for my forgiveness?”
Hugh turned towards her again but did not approach. “I do not expect you to forgive the man I was,” he told her, his voice dark and low. “I only ask that you see me for the man that I am now.”
Elinor frowned at his answer, not in displeasure, but in confusion.
It was a bit of an odd request, but not an unreasonable one. In fact, it might have been the simplest request she had ever heard. Was that not what they all wanted in life? To be seen for who they were without prejudice or judgment?
Would she not want to be seen that way?
God Rest Ye Merry Spinster Page 4
