The sound that escaped Elinor was not entirely ladylike, but it bore no profanities.

Discernable ones, anyway.

“I doubt Mr. Sterling is above accepting what is freely offered,” Elinor informed Uncle Dough, “and I further doubt he had anything better to do with his time. A man of his nature and proclivity never does. Why not remain with a moderately wealthy, generous family, and take advantage of the situation? It may have been that he sabotaged his own coach for the sake of a more comfortable situation.”

Uncle Dough gave her a sidelong look as her father continued to speak to the rest of the family. “You take quite a critical view of the man.”

Elinor folded her arms, shaking her head firmly. “I only speak as I find, Uncle Dough. He is nothing but trouble, and the worst of it at that. I am all too well acquainted with him in London.”

“Should we warn your father, then?”

If only she could.

She shook her head once more, dipping her chin to glare at the intruder darkly. “It won’t make any difference, and you know it. Papa is determined to be kind-hearted to a fault, and this, I can assure you, is a fault. A rather vile one.”

Uncle Dough grunted, returning his attention to the front of the room, tilting his head a touch. “I appreciate your view on the matter, dear, to be sure, but… He doesn’t seem particularly vile. A bit gaunt in the face, perhaps. Peaky, to be sure, and not quite tall enough to be imposing, as one might wish to be. Still, he complimented your mother creditably, showed no disdain with the children, and I have yet to see him scowl.”

“Even reptiles can smile when they have to,” Elinor insisted, refusing to clap when the others did at something or other her father said.

“Don’t snarl,” her uncle advised in a low tone, betraying her slightly by offering a few claps of his hands. “It will make your displeasure more evident, and someone will comment.”

Elinor sputtered softly. “Whatever would that be like?”

“Elinor…” He raised a scolding brow. “Don’t ruin Christmas for the family in an attempt to rid the house of Mr. Sterling.”

“Oh, I don’t intend to, Uncle Dough,” she assured him, allowing her lips to curve just a little. “But I do very much intend to inform our Mr. Sterling of the expectations for his stay with us. And the limitations.”

“Our Mr. Sterling? Interesting,” Uncle Dough grunted and sipped some suspicious-looking punch. “Suit yourself.” He moved away from her, ambling towards some of her cousins, one or two of whom seemed markedly interested in their now not-as-temporary guest.

“Don’t even think about it, girls,” she told them, though they hadn’t a hope of hearing her, muttering the words under her breath as she was.

Hugh Sterling wasn’t going to ruin their Christmas, and he most certainly wasn’t going to ruin hers.

But if she could find a way to ruin his without ruining anyone else’s along the way, she would find it to be quite a festive gift indeed.