Amazingly, there wasn’t a single opportunity to say anything to Hugh until they had finished supper and all the family and guests included were moving towards the drawing room for some light evening entertainment, if not dancing.

The one time in her life when she actually sought opportunity to speak with the vile man, and she couldn’t even manage it.

Though, in all honesty, she couldn’t be blamed for it.

Somehow, Hugh Sterling had made himself so widely agreeable among her family that he was in company almost constantly. If it wasn’t her uncle or father, it was the cousin husbands wanting tales of London, as they rarely ventured there, or it was her unmarried female cousins trying to engender a good impression on an eligible visitor.

And then there were the children.

Elinor could not understand it, but the children seemed to flock to him, and he never once swatted them away or seemed remotely displeased. Any man in his situation would have every reason to be markedly annoyed with the rambunctious children of his hosts, particularly when he would have little enough experience with children at all.

Hugh Sterling seemed as pleased to see them as he was to see any given person.

It wasn’t possible. The man she knew was not pleased by anything but sin, idleness, and villainy. He sought to make himself a nuisance just for amusement and took great delight in voicing displeasure. He was evil, he was spoiled, and he was smug.

He was also changed.

In looks, at least. His hair was a shade darker, his stature less proper, his jaw more angular. He had lost the pasty, bland look he had always worn before, and the youthful tint to his features. His eyes were clearer than she could ever remember seeing, and without the bloodshot background, the blue in them seemed to stand out more brightly.

He was an older Hugh Sterling, and somehow not just with the loss of some weight, as had clearly occurred.

If she did not know better, she would also have noted a newfound level of maturity in him.

Considering he had only ever been as mature as an ill-mannered twelve-year-old, that was no special accomplishment.

And she refused to accept that a more attractive Hugh Sterling was a more mature one.

Or a truly changed one.

Or anything worthy of praise or positive attention.

Until she could swear before God otherwise, he would still be her nemesis.

And while she could, she would take the opportunity to let him know that.

“Mr. Sterling,” she called softly as she approached him, carefully smiling for all appearances. “A moment?”

He turned and gave her a look, which she pointedly ignored. “Miss Asheley. Of course, I am at your service.”

His tone was not nearly as polite as his words were, and her smile became pointedly strained, the ribbon at her throat feeling like a noose.

“Lovely,” she ground out, barely managing to not snarl.