The smile dimmed from Elinor’s lips. “My uncle would.”
“Yes, well, Lord Inglewood was a special kind of man. Let’s not speak of him again,” Cecilia said. “Now, back to my ideas for supper.”
Elinor took a step back. “I think this is my cue to leave. I would hate to spoil the surprise that you have for Mr. Dandridge.”
She turned and headed up the stairs towards the main level. Once she arrived, she walked down the corridor and glanced into the dining room. She saw Mr. Dandridge was sitting at the table and she felt some guilt at leaving him alone.
Why should she care? If she had her way, Mr. Dandridge would leave at once and she would never have to see him again. But could she treat Lady Edith’s great-nephew so distastefully, especially since the woman had given her so much?
Elinor resisted the urge to groan, knowing she couldn’t leave him alone. She stepped into the dining room and met Mr. Dandridge’s gaze. “Your breakfast will be up shortly,” she informed him.
“Would you care to join me?” Mr. Dandridge asked.
No.
She would rather be doing anything else.
Elinor mustered a smile to her lips. “I would be delighted,” she said, hoping she sounded somewhat convincing.
Mr. Dandridge rose and pulled out a chair for her. She sat in the proffered chair and tried to appear unaffected when Mr. Dandridge returned to his seat. Why was she having such anunexpected- and unwanted- reaction to a man that she hardly knew?
Settling into his seat, Mr. Dandridge said, “I hardly know anything about you, but it is evident that my Great-aunt Edith trusts you very much.”
“Lady Edith has been nothing but kind to me,” Elinor said. “I am most grateful that she had faith in me to run her horse farm.”
“I must assume that you love horses,” Mr. Dandridge remarked.
A bright, genuine smile came to Elinor’s lips. “I adore horses. My mother once said that I used to pretend that I was a horse, even when guests were around.”
Mr. Dandridge chuckled. “I can only imagine how much that pleased your parents.”
“This horse farm is known for the breeding of our Galloway ponies,” Elinor explained. “They are an exceptionally fine-looking horse, have a wide, deep chest, and have a tendency to pace rather than trot.”
“That is not a common horse in England, which is where I assume you are from,” Mr. Dandridge said.
“It is true. I am from Kendal, but I no longer consider that home, not since my parents died,” Elinor responded.
Mr. Dandridge eyed her curiously. “May I ask when they died?” he asked gently.
Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, but Elinor blinked them back. “Three years ago,” she replied.
“I see,” Mr. Dandridge said. “I apologize for broaching such a sensitive subject. If it helps, my parents are both alive, and I fear that they might drive me mad.”
She appreciated what Mr. Dandridge was attempting to do, but she didn’t see much humor in it. She decided to change the topic to something much safer. “Where do you hail from?”
“Sussex,” Mr. Dandridge responded.
“I have heard it is quite beautiful in Sussex,” Elinor said, attempting to make conversation. She didn’t truly care where he was from. She just wanted him to leave.
Mr. Dandridge nodded. “It is.”
A silence descended over them, and it was interrupted by the arrival of a servant with a tray in her hand.
“Ah, your breakfast,” Elinor said, rising. “I should go and let you eat in peace.”
Mr. Dandridge placed his hand out, stilling her. “I would prefer if you stayed. I am not used to eating in silence.”
Elinor returned to her seat. “I am,” she admitted.
