Rules of a Ruse (Regency Christmas Brides #2)

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Alden could see the color drain from Elinor’s face, and the panic was evident in her trembling voice. He stepped closer and gently took her hand in his. “It will be all right,” he encouraged, his voice steady and calm.

She shook her head vigorously. “No, it won’t be,” she insisted. “My uncle is a man that is used to getting what he wants.”

“Then he has met his match in you,” Alden responded.

Elinor offered him a weak smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You are kind to say so, but it is utterly untrue. Uncle Matthew can be very persuasive when he wants to be.”

Alden tightened his hold on her hand, his resolve unyielding. “Would you like me to go with you?”

Elinor’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I would, but I am not sure if that is the best idea,” she responded. “My uncle will no doubt turn his ire onto you.”

“Better than you,” Alden stated firmly.

The echo of her uncle’s angry voice reverberated through the manor. “Elinor!” he bellowed.

Elinor glanced anxiously at the doorway. “It is better if I do this alone. ”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

She met his gaze, her expression resolute. “This is not your fight.”

“Perhaps not, but we are friends,” he asserted. “And friends help one another.”

“But Uncle Matthew…” she began, her voice faltering.

Alden brought their hands up to his lips. “Has no true power over you. You have reached your majority.”

“He threatened to send me to an asylum if I didn’t marry the duke,” Elinor admitted with a slight wince.

“I won’t let that happen,” Alden assured her.

Just then, a maid hurried into the room, her face lighting up with relief upon seeing Elinor. “Your uncle, the Marquess of Inglewood, is requesting a moment of your time, Miss.”

Alden’s brow shot up in disbelief. “Your uncle is Lord Inglewood?”

“He is,” Elinor confirmed. “Uncle Matthew inherited the title after my father died.”

Lowering their entwined hands, Alden said, “That means I should have been addressing you as Lady Elinor this whole time.”

“No,” Elinor responded firmly. “I left that life behind me when I refused to marry the duke. I am just Elinor now.”

“And your aunt allowed this?”

“Yes, she understood the reasons as to why I dropped my title,” Elinor responded. “I didn’t want my uncle to find me in Scotland.”

“Does your household staff know the truth?”

“Only Bryon knows who I truly am,” Elinor responded.

Alden didn’t know what to feel at this precise moment. Not only did Elinor outrank him, but she had also kept this significant part of her life from him.

The maid cleared her throat politely, reminding them that they were not alone. “My lady, your uncle is waiting for you. ”

Elinor nodded in acknowledgement. “Please inform him I will be down in a moment.”

With a brief curtsy, the maid departed to do her bidding.

Turning back towards Alden, Elinor said, “You don’t have to come with me. I can do this on my own.”

“You can, but you don’t have to,” Alden responded. “I will accompany you.”

Elinor glanced down at their joined hands. “I’m sorry I lied to you, but I was hiding from my uncle. I couldn’t risk anyone knowing the truth,” she said softly. “I am not quite sure how he found me.”

“That is neither here nor there. Let us go down and face your uncle together,” Alden encouraged, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Together,” Elinor repeated.

As Alden led her from the library, he noticed how visibly tense she was. “It will be all right,” he said.

“You don’t know my uncle,” Elinor replied, her voice trembling.

“Actually, I do know him,” he said. “I studied under him to be a barrister. He was one of the reasons why I decided not to pursue that profession.”

Elinor looked at him in surprise. “I heard he was a shrewd barrister.”

“You could say that,” Alden said. “I didn’t agree with his methods, and we had a falling out because of it.”

Once they reached the top step of the stairs, Alden could see Lord Inglewood standing imposingly in the entry hall below. His nostrils flared with anger, and his dark, piercing eyes locked on to them. He was a tall man with a stern countenance, his presence always commanding respect and fear, traits that were well-established long before he inherited the title of marquess.

Lord Inglewood scoffed, and his voice dripped with disdain. “It is about time you graced me with your presence, Niece.”

Elinor slipped her hand out of Alden’s as they descended the stairs. “I had not expected you this evening,” she said, her voice steady. “Will you join us for supper?”

“No, I came to see you home,” Lord Inglewood growled, his words more of a command than a statement.

“I am home,” Elinor asserted, a flicker of defiance in her eyes.

Lord Inglewood’s gaze shifted to Alden, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What are you doing here, Mr. Dandridge?”

Alden stood his ground. “My reasons are my own.”

Lord Inglewood’s eyes darted between Alden and Elinor, suspicion etched into his features. “What is going on between you two?”

“Nothing. We are just friends,” Elinor said quickly. “Mr. Dandridge is Lady Edith’s great-nephew and has come to see the horse farm.”

Lord Inglewood’s expression remained unconvinced, but he chose not to press the issue. “Go pack your trunks and we will be off,” he ordered.

Elinor tilted her chin. “No,” she replied firmly.

“No?” Lord Inglewood repeated, his voice rising with incredulity. “You seem to forget that you are my ward.”

“Not since I have reached my majority,” Elinor said, her voice firm. “I am free to do as I please.”

“With what funds?” Lord Inglewood sneered.

Elinor clasped her hands in front of her. “I am running this horse farm for Lady Edith,” she shared.

Lord Inglewood’s mouth dropped. “You are working like a common laborer. Are you mad?” he asked. “You are a lady.”

“That is my past,” Elinor responded resolutely.

“You can’t run from your past,” Lord Inglewood said, his voice harsh. “Furthermore, the Duke of Mardale is still willing to marry you. You could be a duchess, not a horse farmer. ”

Elinor pressed her lips together. “Be that as it may, I choose to remain here and run the horse farm.”

“You cannot be in earnest!” Lord Inglewood exclaimed, his face contorted with anger.

“I am,” Elinor responded.

Lord Inglewood took a menacing step closer to Elinor, and she stepped back, fear flickering in her eyes. “I am done with your tantrum. It is time to go home,” he said, his voice low and threatening.

Alden stepped forward, placing himself protectively between Elinor and her uncle. “She is home, Lord Inglewood,” he stated.

Mrs. Hardy’s voice came from the corridor. “Lord Inglewood,” she greeted, her steps quickening as she approached. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Scotland?”

With a clenched jaw and a hint of disdain, Lord Inglewood muttered, “Mrs. Hardy.”

Mrs. Hardy came to a stop by Elinor. “I was just informed that supper is ready. Would you care to join us this evening?”

“I would prefer to leave this wretched place and return home,” Lord Inglewood grumbled, his voice laden with irritation.

“Go on, then,” Mrs. Hardy responded, gesturing towards the door. “No one is stopping you from leaving.”

Lord Inglewood turned his heated glare to Elinor. “I am not leaving without my niece.”

“Then you will be leaving disappointed,” Mrs. Hardy said. “Lady Elinor is not going anywhere with you.”

“We shall see,” Lord Inglewood stated.

Mrs. Hardy and Lord Inglewood stood face to face, the tension between them almost tangible. Their silent battle of wills stretched on, the air thick with unspoken threats. Finally, after a long moment, Lord Inglewood conceded with a huff. “I shall join you for dinner, considering the late hour.”

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Hardy said, her voice taking on a cheery lilt. “Let us try to have a pleasant conversation for once.”

Alden offered his arm to Elinor. “May I escort you to the dining room?” he asked.

Elinor accepted his arm and kept her head held high. Though he had known her for only a short time, Alden recognized the brave front she was putting on, and he hoped her courage was not solely for his benefit.

He patted her hand. “It will be all right,” he whispered.

“I wish I had your confidence.”

Leaning closer, he said, “You are stronger than you think you are. Just remember that.”

Elinor met his gaze. “You are kind to say that.”

“It is merely the truth,” he said. “Don’t give your uncle any more power than he already has.”

“You are right,” Elinor said, her voice gaining strength.

Alden smirked. “I usually am. It is what makes me so charming.”

A laugh escaped Elinor’s lips. “You are vexing,” she said lightly.

“But not charming?” he prompted.

“No, more vexing,” Elinor quipped, a glint of mirth in her eyes.

Lord Inglewood’s curt voice cut through their exchange. “Is something amusing, Elinor?” he asked.

The humor drained from Elinor’s expression. “No, Uncle,” she replied, her voice much more subdued.

After they stepped into the dining room, Alden pulled out a chair for Elinor. He knew this was going to be a long, and no doubt tedious, dinner, but there was no other place he would rather be.

Elinor tried to pretend that her uncle’s intense glares didn’t bother her, but they did. How in the blazes had he found her? She had been so careful to hide herself away in Scotland. When his letters had first arrived, she had been surprised but never truly believed he would travel all this way to retrieve her in person.

Not that she had any intention of going anywhere with him. She refused to return home and marry the Duke of Mardale. The mere thought of the old duke, with his gouty bandaged feet, made her shudder. She didn’t care that he was a duke.

She glanced at Alden, grateful for his steadying presence beside her. She had thought herself brave enough to face her uncle alone, but she had been wrong. She needed Alden by her side more than she realized.

The footmen stepped forward, placing bowls of steaming soup in front of them. From his place at the head of the table, Lord Inglewood picked up his spoon and took a sip. “This isn’t awful,” he remarked with grudging approval before placing the spoon back down.

Her aunt spoke up. “I shall inform the cook of your praise,” she said dryly.

Uncle Matthew met Aunt Cecilia’s gaze. “Why are you here?”

With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Aunt Cecilia replied, “I could ask you the same thing, my lord.”

“I am her guardian,” her uncle snapped.

“I do believe Elinor no longer requires a guardian, especially given the fine job you did,” Aunt Cecilia retorted.

Uncle Matthew glared at her. “I must assume I have you to thank for her running away at the chapel.”

Elinor spoke up, her voice determined. “No, I chose to do that on my own.”

“And what a foolish mistake that was,” her uncle said. “ Fortunately, the duke understands that you simply had cold feet and is still willing to marry you.”

“I do not wish to marry him,” Elinor responded.

“You would be a duchess,” her uncle argued, leaning forward.

Elinor shook her head. “The duke only wants to marry me because he wants an heir. Any young woman would do.”

“No, you caught the duke’s eye, and he is very interested in furthering your acquaintance,” her uncle said.

“I won’t do it,” Elinor asserted.

“Then I shall remain here until you do change your mind,” her uncle stated.

Aunt Cecilia picked up a roll and tossed it at Lord Inglewood, the bread hitting him squarely on the shoulder. “My apologies, my lord. It must have slipped,” she said, her tone devoid of any genuine regret.

Her uncle brushed off the crumbs on his jacket, his expression one of barely contained irritation. “Truly?” he asked. “Is this the example you wish to set for Lady Elinor?”

“I do believe she is doing just fine,” Aunt Cecilia said.

“She is wasting her life by running a horse farm,” her uncle countered sharply. “She should be running a large household as a duchess.”

Aunt Cecilia sighed, a deep and weary sound. “She doesn’t want to be a duchess. Why can’t you seem to get that through your thick head?”

Her uncle tsked. “Name calling now? I would expect better from you.”

Elinor glanced at Alden, who was watching her intently. When their eyes met, he winked, providing her with much needed reassurance. She felt a small surge of courage from his silent support.

Reaching for his glass, her uncle continued. “I should have known that Lady Edith would have helped you. She is an eccentric old bat. ”

“Do not talk that way about Lady Edith,” Elinor asserted. “I turned to her when no one else would help me.”

“That is because everyone knew what a great opportunity it was for you to marry a duke,” her uncle responded. “Well, everyone but you, apparently.”

Elinor frowned. “I wanted to marry for love.”

“Love?” Her uncle slammed his glass down onto the table, causing water to spill over his hand. “Love is for poor people. Simpletons. Not ladies of genteel birth.”

“My parents loved each other very much,” Elinor responded.

Her uncle wiped his hand with a napkin. “Give it time. They would have eventually grown to hate one another.”

Elinor’s frown deepened. “You know not what you speak of.”

“Neither do you,” her uncle stated. “You are young, foolish, naive?—”

Alden interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “You are wrong,” he said. “Lady Elinor is none of those things.”

Her uncle turned his heated glare to Alden. “And how exactly would you know that?” he demanded.

“I have become acquainted with Lady Elinor over these past few days?—”

“How acquainted?” her uncle asked, his tone insinuating.

Alden grew indignant. “Not in the way that you are implying,” he declared.

Her uncle leaned back in his seat. “What am I supposed to think?” he asked. “I show up…”

“Uninvited, might I add,” her aunt muttered under her breath

“… and you are cavorting with my niece,” her uncle said, ignoring Cecilia’s comment.

Alden’s jaw clenched tightly. “We were not cavorting,” he responded. “And I resent the implication. ”

“Were you not holding hands with my niece earlier, or did I just imagine that?” her uncle asked.

“I was offering comfort to Lady Elinor,” Alden responded, his tone unwavering.

Her uncle arched an eyebrow. “Comfort?” he repeated. “Is that what you call it when you are too familiar with a young woman?”

Elinor had just about enough of her uncle. How dare he imply that anything inappropriate went on between them. “Uncle Matthew,” she began, “you are wrong. Mr. Dandridge and I are just friends.”

“Friends? No. I daresay that you two have been spending far too much time alone,” her uncle said, shifting his gaze towards Aunt Cecilia. “It does not appear that Mrs. Hardy is a very good chaperone.”

Her aunt smiled. “As usual, you are wrong in your assumptions.”

“I don’t think I am,” her uncle said. “Does Lady Edith know what is going on under her roof?”

“Yes, she does,” her aunt confirmed without hesitation.

Her uncle narrowed his eyes at Aunt Cecilia before turning his steely gaze back to Alden. “Have you told Elinor how you were not called up to the bar?” he asked.

“That was by choice,” Alden shot back.

Her uncle huffed. “Was it?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat. “I recall it quite differently.”

“You would be wrong,” Alden contended.

Addressing Elinor, her uncle revealed with a smug grin, “Mr. Dandridge could not seem to hack it as a barrister. He failed time and time again.”

“I doubt that to be true,” she replied.

“Well, you would be wrong, as usual,” her uncle said. “It became rather evident that Mr. Dandridge is not as clever as he thinks he is.”

Elinor didn’t believe a single word out of her uncle’s mouth. She knew he had a habit of lying whenever it suited him. Besides, she had come to know Alden well. He was clever and kind, traits her uncle sorely lacked.

“You are right, Uncle,” Elinor said, her voice steady. “Mr. Dandridge is not as clever as he thinks he is.”

Her uncle’s face lit up with a triumphant smile.

But Elinor wasn’t done. She continued, “He is smarter.”

The smile vanished from her uncle’s lips, replaced by a sneer. “I see that he has you fooled.”

As the footmen stepped forward to retrieve the soup bowls and place the main courses before them, Elinor turned to Alden, concerned about the impact of her uncle’s words. “Do not let my uncle’s words get to you,” she whispered. “They are only just that… words.”

Alden tipped his head slightly, acknowledging her words, but she could see the fury simmering in his eyes.

Her uncle began eating and asked, “Is there a guest bedchamber in this incessant manor?”

“There is room in the stables with the other animals,” her aunt remarked with a smile.

Elinor interjected, “There is a guest bedchamber available.”

“Good,” her uncle replied. “Since tonight is Christmas Eve, we should celebrate. Have the candles been lit?”

Bryon stepped forward and announced, “They have been, my lord, and will continue to burn through Christmas.”

Her uncle waved the butler back with a flick of his hand. “Well, at least your household has managed that. It is a shame that you don’t have a Yule log.”

“We are attending Christmas service tomorrow at our local parish,” her aunt informed Lord Inglewood. “I would imagine you won’t be accompanying us to prevent the church from being struck by lightning.”

With a glance heavenward, her uncle said, “I would rather sleep in than attend church with you. ”

“Well, if that is the case, I hope you feel the same way about our Christmas feast,” her aunt responded.

Elinor resisted the urge to smile at her aunt’s jabs at her uncle. Everyone was thinking it, but she was the only one brave enough to say it.

Her uncle held up his glass to Aunt Cecilia and said, “As usual, it is a delight being around you,” he mocked.

Aunt Cecilia simply smiled back. “The feeling is mutual, my lord.”