God Rest Ye Merry Spinster Read online

  “You!” Phoebe suggested loudly, surprising him with the force of her answer.

  He couldn’t manage to hide his shock. “Me?”

  She nodded insistently, and the others joined their voices with hers. “Yes! Yes, Mr. Sterling!”

  Strangely, Hugh was oddly pleased by the notion. Imagine being wanted by a group of people for anything pleasurable, even if they were all under the age of ten. He hadn’t known a feeling like that in some time, and the jolt of pleasure that hit his midsection seemed somehow both foreign and familiar.

  He put his hands on his hips, frowning for effect. “But how will any of you reach high enough to do a proper job of it?”

  The children looked at each other, frowning in thought, when Amelia suddenly moved to Hugh and tugged on his hand. “Sit down, Mr. Sterling.”

  He looked at her in mock surprise. “Sit down? What for?”

  The girl rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’ll be a sitting snowman, silly. Sit!”

  Hugh did so without argument, and at once, the pipe was stuck between his teeth, his cravat tossed about his neck. The hat was tilted to one side atop his head, and a serious discussion on strategy commenced, the children tugging at his clothing and pretending to pile snow around his ankles. It was an impressive imagined endeavor, studiously giving the impression of his seated position. Faux buttons and facial features were laid out, though not placed on him yet.

  His anticipation knew no bounds.

  “What in the world is going on here?”

  The prim crispness of the voice made Hugh smirk as he glanced over his shoulder.

  Elinor Asheley stood in the doorway, a smile on her face as she took in the children.

  The smile vanished as she took in Hugh.

  “You!” she cried, her voice now one of dismay. “What are you doing here?”

  He gestured to the children’s obvious efforts. “Being made into a snowman, as you see.”

  Elinor’s brow wrinkled. “You’re… playing with the children?”

  “He’s so much fun!” at least two of the children cried.

  “Is he?” Elinor asked mildly, her expression not changing, spearing him with a look as though he had somehow coerced the children.

  Phoebe nodded eagerly and threw her arms around Hugh’s neck. “He was a monster, and then a dog, and then a silly dog, and then I said I wanted to go outside, but he said we couldn’t, so he taught us how to play with pretend snow inside! Now we get to have fun, and Mama won’t be cross!”

  Somehow, the little girl’s enthusiasm managed to crack Elinor’s sour look. Elinor smiled with real amusement at the child and came further into the room. “What a fine compromise! And how much snow have we piled upon Mr. Sterling so far?”

  The children took great delight in showing her the imagined snow upon him, as well as his hat, scarf, and what would become his face and buttons when the time came.

  To her credit, Elinor nodded thoughtfully as they showed her, and she avoided any scowling, snarling, or giving the impression that she was anything less than fascinated by their efforts.

  What composure that must have taken.

  Impossibly, she actually joined in the game for a few minutes, helping the girls to pack snow around Hugh’s torso.

  Interesting. She could be this close to him without breaking out into some sort of horrible rash? Would wonders never cease?

  “Elinor,” Amelia huffed, propping one hand on a hip. “Move Mr. Sterling’s arm. It’s not sticking out as it should.”

  Elinor looked at her cousin, then back to Hugh, raising a brow as she smiled rather smugly. “And how should it be, Amelia?”

  Hugh gave her a warning look. “Don’t you dare,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

  Her brows quirked in a blatant dare. “Amelia?”

  The girl waved her hand dismissively. “Any way, really. We are using sticks for arms, so they should look like sticks.”

  “Excellent,” Elinor practically purred, eyeing his limb in an almost feral manner.

  Hugh was wincing before her hands ever touched him.

  “Oh, good,” he grunted. “Now I’ll really feel frozen.”

  Elinor’s eyes narrowed. “Phoebe, do snowmen talk?”

  “No, of course not!” came the outraged reply.

  “Then perhaps put additional snow where the mouth should be,” Elinor suggested as if it would be helpful. “And there will be no need to make a mouth out of stone or vegetable or anything else.”

  Hugh gave her a disparaging look, and she fought a smile or a laugh as she carelessly, and forcibly, moved his arm over his head to the most awkward angle humanly possible.

  He shook his head, keeping his attention on her rather than on any of the children.

  Elinor Asheley was a lovely looking woman, no matter how much of a termagant she made herself to be in nature. The way she looked now, full of laughter and amusement, though it was all at his suffering, gave a greater light to her countenance and a rosier hue to her cheeks. Her eyes were impossibly blue, he could see them clearly when she was this close, and he was positive he had never seen anything to equal them in life or art.

  His mind took him back to the night before when she and her sisters had sung for the gathering. Elinor had looked no less lovely then, even when she had been filled with indignation against him. And when she had sung…

  He had yet to understand or explain it, but although the four Asheley sisters had remarkably similar voices whether singing or speaking, he had been able to single out Elinor’s voice with ease. More than that, he could hear it more than the rest. Above the rest.

  In retrospect, he knew that had to have been impossible. The others had spoken of the lovely blend the sisters’ voices had been, what a pristine arrangement it was, and that, while none of the Asheley girls had what they would have called impressive voices, together they were incomparable musically. There was no way that one voice ought to have been distinguishable from the rest.

  Yet he had heard Elinor.

  More than that, he had been struck by Elinor. Her voice had moved him, stunned him, captivated him, beyond anything he had ever known. He had been in the highest circles of Society, had heard voices that had brought others to tears of joy, been privy to performances by the greatest musical talents recognized. Nothing had made him feel as the night before had.

  Hers was not the most talented voice his ears had known, but it made no difference.

  It was her voice he had heard, and hers that had brought to his heart something he had not known in several months, if not years.

  If ever.

  Elinor Asheley, of all people.

  He refused to really consider what that meant, what significance that might have held, or anything of the sort. Not yet, not in depth, and possibly not ever.

  He may not have to.

  The warm, sweet scent of orange blossom captured his senses then, and with it a hint of cinnamon and sandalwood, all of which suddenly distracted him from concise thought and sense. What a perfect blend, both enticing and comforting, and it sent ripples of pleasure and alertness across his skin. Where had it come from, and why should it now swamp him so?

  Elinor was leaning close, he realized, assisting her young cousin in pretend-patting of snow across his abdomen. He inhaled as faintly as possible, and the scent intensified, magnified if he turned his face more towards her. Instinctively, he did so, suddenly desperate for that fragrance to enfold him as completely as possible.

  He couldn’t help it; he stared at her. Blatantly, frankly, and without shame. How could he not? Her singing had enchanted him, her appearance fascinated him, and now her scent held him captive. This woman who hated him with all the passion one might save for the devil himself, and now she was holding sway over him?

  Somehow, the idea did not distress him so much as make him curious. It was not nearly as distasteful as it would have been only days ago, and he feared the more time he spent in this house, the less dist
asteful it would grow still.

  What a thought.

  But then, if such a miraculous change of feelings and opinions could occur, it may yet be possible that Hugh Sterling would not be the villain in the eyes and thoughts of Society as he was at present. And better yet, to the Spinsters themselves.

  He had wronged them all in some way, a few individuals more than others, and he would not be in any way opposed to making amends there. If he could somehow be even remotely redeemed by them, he would not feel himself so very beneath decent company.

  Elinor might be his way to achieve that. If he could convince her that he was changed, if he could make her hate him less than before, it could go a long way indeed.

  He wanted to be changed for Elinor. To Elinor. Not only for the sake of the Spinsters themselves, but for her specifically.

  He wanted to be redeemed to her.

  Bewildering thought though it was.

  “Oh, dear me, look at the time!” Elinor said, glancing up at the clock on the mantle. “Forgive us, dears, but I must take our snowman away. My mother wished us both at luncheon, and I believe your nanny will have some in the nursery for you all.”

  The children groaned in displeasure, but dutifully filed out of the library, the promise of food no doubt comforting whatever grief the end of their game brought them.

  Hugh chuckled as he slid his cravat beneath the collar of his shirt and began to tie it simply, without a looking glass or any real concern.

  “I’m amazed you survived such an extensive game of make-believe,” Elinor commented drily, pushing up to her feet. “My cousins’ children require a great deal of energy.”

  “They do,” Hugh admitted as he continued tying. “Thankfully, I have a great deal of energy of late. Far more than I once did.”

  Elinor grunted softly, then looked at him, one brow rising. “Do you not need a valet to tie that to your satisfaction?”

  Hugh looked at her, smiling. “I possess the necessary skills, have no fear.”

  She snorted once. “Yes, that was exactly what I feared. I am so distressed.”

  “So I see.” He tucked his cravat in and rose, brushing off the lapels of his coat lightly. “I did not travel with a valet, Elinor. I don’t care if my cravat is in fashion, I don’t care if the children ask me to play during a quiet moment to myself, and I don’t care if your mother’s luncheon is nothing more or less than boiled potatoes. I truly, sincerely, do not care.”

  Elinor stared at him as though she had never quite seen him before. Her expression was not filled with hatred, coldness, or disdain, but curiosity.

  He dared not think anything else of it than that, and he did not blame her.

  It was a curious change he had undergone; he knew it well.

  “I told you, Elinor,” he murmured as he gestured for her to lead the way out of the library. “I am not the man I was. Is that so surprising, considering…?”

  Elinor surprised him by shaking her head as they walked out of the room. “No, when I put it in the proper light, it’s not so surprising. How could any man do any less in your situation? And I am not so heartless as to not consider your words from last night in all sincerity, if not solemnity. I would never wish what happened with your sister upon any young woman or any brothers of one. Not even you.”

  Hugh glanced at her as they walked side by side now, and a wave of pleasant surprise slowly rolled through him. He whistled very low. “Not even me?” he repeated with humor. “Whatever did it cost you to say that, Elinor?”

  She smiled at that, which was the greatest shock of all. “Just a little chip of my pride. It needed to go anyway.”

  He chuckled at that and smiled towards one of the great windows. “I’m not the great serpent of hell, then?”

  “Not today, at least. You’re only human.” She made a small laughing sound. “But you may have a forked tongue. Of that, I am not entirely sure.”

  Just to spite her, he turned back and stuck his tongue out as a spoiled child might have. “Well?” he asked around the blockage of his tongue.

  Elinor pretended to inspect it, then sighed. “Pity. I shall have to amend my opinions, I see.”

  She should what?

  “Can you?” he asked, no longer teasing, her answer suddenly quite important.

  She shrugged a shoulder. “Perhaps. After all, I was quite wrong about Camden Vale. I admit it freely and without remorse. But in your case, it will all depend.” She looked up at him. “Tell me this: will you make the necessary apologies when you find yourself in London again?”

  “Of course, I will,” he informed her without hesitation. “Most sincerely. I’ve written several letters in my absence, all of which have been sent, begging forgiveness, if it can be given at all. Georgie’s had one, as has Mrs. Vale and Mrs. Morton. I believe I have wronged them most among your circle of friends, though all of you deserve my apologies.”

  “Even me?” she asked, though he detected no hint of insinuation there.

  He stopped in the corridor, and so did she. “Yes, Elinor, even you,” he said softly. He took one step towards her. “I have no explanation or excuse for my behavior, for my words, or for any harm or hurt I may have caused. I can only offer an apology as deep as a man’s regret can be, which, I have found, is beyond comprehension. I pray that someday I might earn your forgiveness, but if I can only have my apology accepted as such, I will be content. I am truly sorry. I hope you can believe that.”

  Elinor looked at him for a long moment, her expression maddeningly unreadable. “Do you know,” she replied quietly, “I believe I can.”

  Hugh blinked once. “You can what?”

  “Believe you,” she clarified. “I believe your apology, and I believe you are sincere. More than that, I accept it, whatever that is worth from me.”

  “Really?” He grinned out of sheer relief. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “Nor did I, believe me,” Elinor commented as she began to walk again. “Only an hour ago, I was considering ways to make you fall through the ice.”

  He hissed a wince as he followed, falling in step beside her again. “I’m a terrible swimmer. Could we not have me somehow strung up by holly and ivy and whatnot?”

  “And have you become part of the decor? I think not, we have no greenery to spare for you.”

  “More’s the pity.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Chapter Five

  There is nothing more dangerous to an unmarried man than a room filled with eligible, desperate, intrepid women. Be ye forewarned.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 13 February 1819

  “What’s the matter with you, Elinor?”

  Elinor looked at her younger sister in surprise. “Nothing is wrong with me, E. Why would you ask?”

  Elizabeth raised a trim brow. “You didn’t make a single face during supper. You appeared calm and content, and I would swear you even smiled at something that Mr. John Winthrop said.”

  Clearly, the punch was getting to her sister’s head.

  “I did smile,” Elinor informed her without shame. “It was a witty remark.”

  “I thought you hated all men,” Elizabeth muttered in a low voice, eyes wide. “I’ve never seen you smile at a single one before.”

  All men? Well, that was hardly fair. Elinor didn’t know all men; how could she hate them all? She winced and could have kicked herself. She had gone through a rather violent phase of hating all male creatures, be they horses, humans, or hounds, and none were spared from her barbs. Her friends in the Spinsters would certainly have had the same opinions her sister did, undeserved though they were.

  No, that wasn’t right. They were deserved, at the time.

  When exactly her opinions had changed, she couldn’t have said.

  She didn’t hate Tony Sterling, Georgie’s husband, and she didn’t hate Camden Vale, Prue’s. She was learning to like Sebastian Morton, the man who had married Izzy, though there was not much at all to dislike in him. Grace’s husband,
Lord Ingram, she already liked immensely.

  That had surprised her, considering she hadn’t known much about him when he’d crossed their path, but he was almost sinfully handsome, witty in all the best ways, and had a measure of irreverence that made him almost addictively charming. Meeting him had shifted something in Elinor, though she would have to be honest enough to admit that it had begun to shift before then.

  If Lord Ingram had had eyes for anyone but Grace, Elinor would have considered tossing her bonnet or handkerchief in his direction.

  What a revelation that had been.

  Considering the guests they had at Deilingh at the present, the ones she was not indirectly related to, at any rate, she would have to say that she did not hate any of them either.

  Not even Hugh Sterling.

  She glanced up at the ceiling, half expecting pieces of it to rain down upon her head. All she could see was mistletoe.

  Well. That was wholly inappropriate.

  All she admitted was that she did not hate him.

  It did not mean that she particularly liked him. And certainly did not allow for anything remotely resembling mistletoe where he was concerned.

  Not unless she could catapult it at him.

  She smiled at that idea.

  “And now you’re smiling,” Elizabeth sighed, shaking her head. “Next, you’ll be telling me that you find Mr. John Winthrop attractive.”

  Elinor glanced at her sister, then cast her eyes across the room to the tall, dark, and undeniably handsome brother of their cousin’s husband, currently being interrogated by one of her eligible cousins. “I am not blind, E, no matter what my opinions may be. I find him exceedingly attractive.”

  “Too attractive, one might say,” their brother commented as he came up beside them.

  Elizabeth chortled and gave Edmund a wry look. “Is there such a thing?”

  Edmund nodded firmly, tugging at his starched cravat. “There most certainly is. And you never trust that sort of man, am I right, Sterling?”

  “Generally speaking, yes,” Hugh replied as he joined them, bowing to Elinor and Elizabeth with a smile. “But I’ve got a rather poor history when it comes to judgments, so my word is not worth much.”