Elinor bobbed her head. “Yes, and for you to suggest otherwise is ludicrous. I think you and Miss Cowen are perfect for one another.”
Alden brought his hand up and ran his finger down the length of her cheek, sending shivers down her spine. “Yet you have made no effort to distance yourself from me.”
“Need I remind you that you approached me, not the other way around?” Elinor asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.
His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Why won’t you admit that you have some feelings for me?”
“When pigs fly,” Elinor retorted.
Alden leaned forward until their lips were just inches apart and asked, “Do you want to kiss me, Elinor?”
Yes.
It would be so easy to go up on her tiptoes and press her lips against his. But what would that accomplish?
As her heart pounded in her chest, the sound of the main door being slammed echoed throughout the manor, followed by a booming voice calling, “Elinor!”
Elinor stepped out of Alden’s comforting arms, and she felt dread washing over her. How she wished she never had to hear that voice again.
“What is wrong?” Alden asked.
She glanced over her shoulder at the doorway, her face paling. “It is my uncle,” she said. “He has come to take me home.”
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.”
