He couldn’t help it; he stared at her. Blatantly, frankly, and without shame. How could he not? Her singing had enchanted him, her appearance fascinated him, and now her scent held him captive. This woman who hated him with all the passion one might save for the devil himself, and now she was holding sway over him?

Somehow, the idea did not distress him so much as make him curious. It was not nearly as distasteful as it would have been only days ago, and he feared the more time he spent in this house, the less distasteful it would grow still.

What a thought.

But then, if such a miraculous change of feelings and opinions could occur, it may yet be possible that Hugh Sterling would not be the villain in the eyes and thoughts of Society as he was at present. And better yet, to the Spinsters themselves.

He had wronged them all in some way, a few individuals more than others, and he would not be in any way opposed to making amends there. If he could somehow be even remotely redeemed by them, he would not feel himself so very beneath decent company.

Elinor might be his way to achieve that. If he could convince her that he was changed, if he could make her hate him less than before, it could go a long way indeed.

He wanted to be changed for Elinor. To Elinor. Not only for the sake of the Spinsters themselves, but for her specifically.

He wanted to be redeemed to her.

Bewildering thought though it was.

“Oh, dear me, look at the time!” Elinor said, glancing up at the clock on the mantle. “Forgive us, dears, but I must take our snowman away. My mother wished us both at luncheon, and I believe your nanny will have some in the nursery for you all.”

The children groaned in displeasure, but dutifully filed out of the library, the promise of food no doubt comforting whatever grief the end of their game brought them.

Hugh chuckled as he slid his cravat beneath the collar of his shirt and began to tie it simply, without a looking glass or any real concern.

“I’m amazed you survived such an extensive game of make-believe,” Elinor commented drily, pushing up to her feet. “My cousins’ children require a great deal of energy.”

“They do,” Hugh admitted as he continued tying. “Thankfully, I have a great deal of energy of late. Far more than I once did.”

Elinor grunted softly, then looked at him, one brow rising. “Do you not need a valet to tie that to your satisfaction?”

Hugh looked at her, smiling. “I possess the necessary skills, have no fear.”

She snorted once. “Yes, that was exactly what I feared. I am so distressed.”

“So I see.” He tucked his cravat in and rose, brushing off the lapels of his coat lightly. “I did not travel with a valet, Elinor. I don’t care if my cravat is in fashion, I don’t care if the children ask me to play during a quiet moment to myself, and I don’t care if your mother’s luncheon is nothing more or less than boiled potatoes. I truly, sincerely, do not care.”