“But Elinor isn’t mad!” Aunt Cecilia shouted. “Lord Inglewood just wants to force her hand to marry a duke.”
“All of his documentation is in order,” the constable said. “If I dinnae take Lady Elinor, someone else will.”
Alden spun around to face Elinor, his eyes intense. “Marry me,” he whispered urgently.
“What?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t be in earnest.”
“I am. It is the only way to protect you,” Alden responded, his eyes searching hers.
Her eyes went wide. “Do you even want to marry me?”
“I do,” he said quickly, his voice firm.
Elinor knew that she had to make a choice. She could marry Alden, knowing he would never love her, or go to an asylum until she would eventually be forced to marry the Duke of Mardale.
Her uncle’s voice broke through her musings. “Come along, Elinor,” he ordered. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“No,” Elinor said, standing her ground. “I am not going with you. I am staying here… with Alden.”
With a sigh, her uncle responded, “Constable. Retrieve my niece.”
Alden reached for Elinor’s hand and shifted to face Lord Inglewood. “I declare that I want Lady Elinor to be my wife.”
Lord Inglewood looked heavenward, exasperation clear in his eyes. “My niece is mad. She cannot enter a marriage contract with you.”
“In England, yes, but in Scotland they have something known as ‘irregular marriages’,” Alden informed him. “All Lady Elinor has to say is that she wants to be my wife, and we are married in the eyes of the law.”
“Why would my niece want to marry you?” Lord Inglewood demanded. “You are nothing. A mere second son of an earl.”
“That is true, but I refuse to let her be locked up in an asylum at your whim,” Alden responded, his voice steady and resolute.
Aunt Cecilia met Elinor’s gaze, her eyes holding compassion. “If you agree to marry Alden, your uncle will never have control over you again.”
Elinor glanced down at their entwined hands, feeling the weight of the decision pressing on her. It was evident that her uncle would stop at nothing to ensure she married the duke, and the thought of being locked away in an asylum filled her with dread.
Her uncle snapped his fingers impatiently. “Elinor. Stopthis madness and come with me. You don’t want to marry Mr. Dandridge.”
“Why?” Elinor asked, her voice challenging.
Annoyance flickered in her uncle’s eyes. “Don’t throw your life away for the likes of Mr. Dandridge. You could be a duchess.”
Elinor looked at her uncle in disbelief. “You are trying to throw me into an asylum to force my hand. Whereas Alden is trying to help me.”
“Help you?” her uncle snapped. “He just wants your dowry. Don’t be fooled by him.”
Alden tightened his hold on her hand as he responded, “Your uncle is a liar. I didn’t even know you had a dowry.”
Her uncle tossed his hands in the air. “Of course she has a dowry, you daft man. She is the daughter of a marquess,” he stated. “I have had just about enough of this conversation. Do your job, Constable.”
As the constable took a step closer to her, Alden leaned in and said in a hushed voice, “Marry me, please.”
Elinor knew she truly only had one choice. In a steady voice, she said, “I declare that I want to marry Mr. Dandridge.”
“No!” her uncle exclaimed. “What did you do, you stupid chit?”
Constable Gregor took a step back, nodding solemnly. “Now that Lady Elinor is wed, her husband is who’ll speak for her,” he said.
Her uncle reached into his pocket and pulled out the papers. “But my niece is mad.”
