Elinor sighed as she reached the main level again, then looked at the greenery in her hands, which she had somehow forgotten in all the fuss.

Ugh. Mistletoe. Cursed plant with its cursed tradition encouraging the kissing of unwed girls by men with nothing honorable to occupy their time or their minds.

There was nothing wrong with the married couples who chose to continue the traditions, if they so desired, but really, what good could such a plant do for those without such ties?

It would be only too tempting an opportunity for a blackguard the likes of Hugh Sterling to take advantage of.

Her chest seized as she considered her innocent, naive younger sisters. They had yet to fully engage in a London Season, and they would know nothing of his machinations, or indeed the nature of any man with similar inklings.

She had to protect them. To save them. The Spinsters were not here to help her; she was on her own. It was time, then, to take matters into her own hands.

She set the mistletoe down behind a tapestry before striding towards the large parlor at the back of the house where the family was more inclined to gather, if they gathered at all.

It was rare that they did.

As she approached the room, she knew that this was one of those rare times. She could see four cousin husbands as well as Uncle Dough standing behind one of the sofas, which would indicate that they were unable to sit upon it. Aunt Beatrice and Aunt Julia sat in their usual chairs against the wall, glasses of port in hand.

How very typical.

The only question was whether the entire family was within, or only a portion of them, and if their guests had joined them.

She strode into the room, smiling for all, turning her attention to the front of the room, as the others did, where her father was talking.

The smile faded at once when she saw Hugh standing near him, smiling sheepishly.

Hugh Sterling did not know how to be sheepish.

She frowned at once as she stood next to Uncle Dough. “What’s happening?” she whispered.

Uncle Dough grunted, his girth shifting with an inhale. “Your father feels the need to make a speech about your Mr. Sterling there.”

“He is not my Mr. Sterling, Uncle Dough,” Elinor muttered snappishly. “Far from it. And what about him?”

Uncle Dough indicated Hugh with a flick of his plump hand. “He’s been convinced to stay through Christmas, at your father and uncle’s insistence.”

Elinor stared at Uncle Dough in horror. “He’s what? But I’ve just spoken to the drivers, and they told me that the wheel and axle could be fixed in a day or two. Why remain the further few days?”

“Because, as your father so eloquently said, ‘it would be deuced uncharitable to send a man off the moment his coach is better with Christmas so near.’” Uncle Dough scoffed, not nearly as filled with Christian generosity as the others. “Doesn’t say much of Sterling’s festive plans that he is so free to give them up to remain with us, does it?”