A bit of shuffling, and then the man was before her.

Elinor stiffened, a gasp welling and dying in her throat.

“You do know Mr. Hugh Sterling, don’t you, Elinor?”

Chapter Two

The unexpected is highly overrated.

-The Spinster Chronicles, 8 August 1818

It could have been worse, he supposed. She could have spat in his face or shrieked with horror or collapsed in a dead faint at his feet.

But anyone who had ever been on the receiving end of a disgusted glare from Elinor Asheley felt the impact of it in several suddenly aching places, and they burned most disconcertingly.

He was sure he’d experienced the sensation a time or two, but having spent the last few years at least mildly intoxicated at nearly every moment, he’d likely passed the experience off as indigestion from excessively rich food.

Still, the expression she’d worn at his presentation had left nobody in the room in any doubt of her feelings, except perhaps for her father, who, while all kindness and generosity himself, seemed the slightest bit oblivious.

They were all quickly shuffled off to vacant guest rooms to change and rest, if desired, while the servants of the house brought in all their things. While he appreciated having a moment of solitude after the morning he’d had, Hugh Sterling could honestly say he’d never been more uncomfortable in his entire life.

And that was saying a great deal indeed.

He wondered if his cousin Tony had arranged to have Elinor recommended to the army as a weapon yet. An enemy would certainly hesitate in the face of such a look, though it might not stop an offensive entirely. Still, the hesitation itself may be enough to turn the tide of a battle.

He hadn’t meant to be here, and in fact, there was no place on earth he would rather be less than this. Of all the Spinsters, Elinor was the one who hated him the most.

They all had reason enough, but Elinor had seemed most violent about her hatred. The logical side of him wondered why, as she was one of the few he had not directly wounded in some way, but the more human side of him knew that would have very little to do with anything. Elinor Asheley was loyal to a fault, and it was quite an admirable thing.

Or it ought to be. At the moment, it was rather terrifying.

She would never believe what he had endured in the last several months. Would never believe the change that had occurred. She would never give him a moment to explain, apologize, cajole, or repent. He would ever be the villain in her eyes, the scum of the earth, if not the very devil, and it would make his waiting all the more unpleasant. He had barely managed to convince himself to take this sojourn as it was, and he feared the slightest provocation would send him back into hiding, setting back his recovery, as well.