“I can’t lose this horse farm.”
Her aunt tapped her lips thoughtfully. “I wonder if there is something you could do to convince him not to sell the horse farm.”
Elinor’s shoulders slumped. “I have tried, but he is adamant that he wants to sell it to buy land in England.”
“What if you married him?” her aunt asked.
She reared back. “Have you lost your senses? He wants a marriage of convenience and I want?—”
Her aunt spoke over her. “Love,” she said. “I know, but I do think it is possible for you two to get what you both want.”
“And how do we go about doing that?”
With a slight shrug, her aunt said, “You two just need to fall madly in love with one another.”
Elinor huffed. “I do believe playing the bagpipes has caused you to spout nonsense.”
“Hear me out,” her aunt said. “You like him, he likes you…”
“No,” Elinor said with a shake of her head. “I don’t like him. I can barely tolerate him, and he is going to marry Maisie. It is over.”
“All right,” her aunt conceded, taking a step back.
Elinor lifted her brow. “That is all you have to say?”
“What else can I say?” her aunt asked. “If you aren’t interested in Mr. Dandridge, there is no point in pursuing him.”
“I’m not,” Elinor lied.
“Very well,” her aunt said, walking over to the door. “Not that you are interested, but I do believe Mr. Dandridge is still in the library.”
“Well, I do not care where Mr. Dandridge spends his time,” Elinor said.
Her aunt smiled, as if she had found her words to be amusing. “Then I shall see you for supper.”
Once her aunt had left, it only took Elinor a moment before she knew her aunt was right. She was interested in Mr. Dandridge, which only seemed to irk her more. And she wanted to see him.
Elinor approached the mirror and smoothed back her dark hair before she headed out the door. With quick steps, she approached the library.
This was madness.
She should turn around and go back to her bedchamber. But she couldn’t convince herself to do so.
Stepping into the library, she saw Alden was sitting down, a book in his hand. He glanced up and promptly rose when he saw her. “Elinor,” he greeted. “I thought you were going to rest.”
“I was,” Elinor said as she walked closer to him. “But I… uh… wanted a book to read. I had no idea that you would be in here.”
Alden smiled and she felt the familiar fluttering in her stomach. “Perhaps I can help you select a book.”
Elinor pointed towards the book in his hand. “May I ask what you are reading?”
Holding the book up, he replied, “It is a book of sonnets by William Shakespeare.”
“How intriguing.”
“Truly?” Alden asked.
She shook her head. “No, I prefer Shakespeare’s plays to his sonnets,” she responded. “I am surprised you didn’t select a book that was written in Latin.”
