“It is all right. I have come to see that Lord Inglewood and I will never see eye to eye on most things,” Alden remarked.
“I do believe that is a good thing,” Elinor retorted with a wry smile.
Alden glanced over her shoulder before revealing, “Your uncle was right about one thing, though. I couldn’t hack being a barrister.”
“That can’t be true…”
He cut her off gently. “No, it is true,” he said. “I just wanted to uphold the law and defend my clients. Unfortunately, there are a lot of politics that go hand in hand with being a barrister, and I refused to play that game.”
Elinor bobbed her head in understanding. “Then you made the right choice. You must do what your conscience dictates.”
“Your uncle doesn’t see it that way,” Alden pointed out.
“Well, as you said so yourself, my uncle is a muttonhead,” Elinor said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I tend to disregard most of what he says.”
Alden offered his arm. “May I escort you inside for the service?”
“I would greatly appreciate that,” she replied, taking his arm.
As they entered the church, Alden saw that it was crowded, but he managed to find two seats in a pew near the back. They were just settling in when a familiar voice called out, “Mr. Dandridge!”
Alden turned to see Mrs. MacBain waving at him from the front of the church. He tipped his head in acknowledgement,hoping that was the end of it. Unfortunately, he was not so lucky.
Mrs. MacBain rose and walked around the pews to stand next to him. “I hope you are having a fine Christmas.”
“I am,” he replied. “And you?”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “I hope that you might find the time to come to call upon me today.”
“I… uh…” he started, struggling to find a polite way to decline.
Elinor spoke up. “Unfortunately, today will be rather busy since my uncle is in town and we are having a Christmas feast.”
Mrs. MacBain’s face fell. “Tomorrow, then?”
Fortunately, the vicar walked to the front of the room, indicating the service was about to begin. With a slight curtsy, Mrs. MacBain returned to her seat.
Leaning closer to Elinor, Alden said in a hushed voice, “Thank you.”
She playfully nudged his shoulder with hers. “It is the least I could do, considering it is Christmas,” she said. “Now, do try to listen to the service. You might learn something.”
Alden tried to focus on the vicar’s words, but the scent of lavender drifting from Elinor made it difficult. How could he concentrate on anything else when all he wanted was to pull her into his arms and kiss her?
Blazes.
This was going to be a long service.
Elinor stood back, watching the servants partake in the grand feast. The lively chatter and clinking of glasses filled the room, bringing warmth and joy. She had missed this. Greatly. Her mother had always said that Christmas was a time forothers, but Elinor had been so focused on herself lately that she had forgotten what truly mattered.
Her gaze drifted to Alden, who was mingling with the servants, looking entirely too dashing for his own good. She was in trouble. The more time she spent with Alden, the more her heart turned towards him. Not that she wanted to fall for anyone. No. She was doing just fine on her own.
But she knew that wasn’t true.
She loved running a horse farm, but she wanted more. A husband. Children. And the worst part was, whenever she dreamed of having a family, her mind always conjured up the image of Alden.
Her aunt approached her with a drink in her hand. “Are you not hungry?”
“I was just woolgathering,” Elinor admitted.
