“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’smouth. 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.”
Chapter Thirteen
Alden stared out the window of his bedchamber, watching the snow gently blanket the fields. Today was Christmas. He had every reason to celebrate but his thoughts kept turning to Elinor. She had managed to bewitch him, and now his heart was turning towards hers. A heart that was supposed to be impenetrable.
The door creaked open and Hastings stepped into the room. “Good morning, sir,” he greeted.
