Charles touched her shoulder, and she nodded. Ellie thought she saw his shoulders sag slightly with relief, but within moments the mask of the dashing young earl was back in place on his face. “Are you ready to go in?” she asked.

He nodded, and Ellie pushed open the door and called out, “Papa?” After a moment of silence she said, “I'll just go to his study and fetch him.”

Charles waited and in a moment Ellie reentered the room, followed by a rather stern-looking man with thinning gray hair.

“Mrs. Foxglove had to return home,” Ellie said, flashing Charles a secret smile. “But may I present my father, the Reverend Mr. Lyndon. Papa, this is Charles Wycombe, Earl of Billington.”

The two men shook hands, silently assessing one another. Charles thought the reverend seemed too rigid and forbidding to have fathered such a bright flame as Eleanor. He could tell by the way Mr. Lyndon looked at him that he fell short of the son-in-law ideal, as well.

They exchanged introductory pleasantries, sat down, and then once Ellie had left the room to prepare some tea, the reverend turned to Charles and said, “Most men would approve of a future son-in-law solely because he is an earl. I am not such a man.”

“I didn't think so, Mr. Lyndon. Clearly Eleanor has been raised by a man of stern moral character.” Charles had intended the words merely to placate the reverend, but as he spoke, he realized he meant them. Eleanor Lyndon had never even once shown symptoms of being dazzled by his title or his wealth. In fact, she seemed far more interested in her three hundred pounds than his vast fortune.

The reverend leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to discern the sincerity behind the earl's words. “I won't try to prevent the marriage,” he said quietly. “I did that once, with my older daughter, and the consequences were disastrous. But I will tell you this: If you mistreat Eleanor in any way, I shall descend upon you with all of the hellfire and torment I can muster.”

Charles couldn't stop one corner of his lips from turning upward in a respectful smile. He imagined that the reverend could muster quite a bit of hellfire and torment. “You have my word that Eleanor will be treated like a queen.”

“There is one more thing.”

“Yes?”

The reverend cleared his throat. “Are you overfond of spirits?”

Charles blinked, a bit startled by the question. “I certainly have a glass when appropriate, but I do not spend my days and nights in drunken stupors, if that is what you are asking.”

“Then perhaps you might explain why you reek of whiskey?”

Charles fought back an absurd urge to laugh, and explained to the reverend what had happened that afternoon and how Ellie had accidentally poured whiskey on him.

Mr. Lyndon leaned back, satisfied. He didn't smile, but then, Charles doubted he smiled often. “Good,” the reverend said. “Now that we understand each other, allow me to be the first to welcome you to the family.”