She tugged on his arm, leaving no polite way for him to refuse, and he let himself be tugged.

“Jaded cynics, miss?” Hugh echoed in a pained tone, though his pleading expression towards Elinor and her siblings left them in no doubt regarding what he was pained about.

“Aren’t you going to save him?” Elizabeth asked softly, giggling to herself.

Elinor shook her head as she waved at Hugh. “Not for the world,” she replied.

“What has poor Mr. Sterling done to deserve Letitia’s company?” Ellen asked as she practically bounced into the room. “Lord, what a prospect. Are we saving him?”

“No,” her siblings replied in the same unconcerned tone, watching their cousin lead their guest to other eager cousins, all vying for any scrap of attention.

It was a comedy that anyone of sense would have found amusing.

“You four are really quite horrible,” Uncle Dough remarked. “At least Mr. John has Barbara near him, she’s the best of the lot, but Mr. Sterling? Surely he deserves some sort of ally.”

“Excuse me,” Ellen huffed with all the indignities a girl of fifteen can muster. “I have only just arrived, and I would never subject anyone to Letitia who was not fully apprised of what was coming.”

Elinor bit her lip on a giggle, which, somehow, Hugh must have heard, for he glanced up at her, looking as cross as anyone.

Uncle Dough hummed to himself, sipping his glass of Madeira slowly. “And did Mr. Sterling get an apprisal of what was coming?”

“He did not,” Edmund said simply. “There wasn’t time.”

“And Elinor did nothing to stop her,” Elizabeth added, as if it would be helpful.

Elinor looked to Uncle Dough with a smirk. “I am not Mr. Sterling’s keeper. Perhaps he will find Letitia a charming companion.”

There was a pause among the group at the thought.

“I may be ill,” Ellen suddenly muttered, leaning against Uncle Dough as though she were faint.

“You’re not the only one,” their uncle replied.

Elinor burst out laughing, not bothering to cover her mouth. “Uncle Dough! You cannot say such things about your niece!”

“I certainly can,” he retorted, puffing out his expansive chest. “I have no qualms about claiming favorites among your generation, and while I may not admit to the identity of those favorites, I will tell you that she has not made the list.”

“My poor sister,” Lavinia mused as she swept into the room, far and away fairer than her sister, and infinitely more sensible. “She does so want to have a husband, and I don’t believe she particularly cares as to his identity.”

“Careful, La-la,” Uncle Dough warned with a smile, using the pet name she’d borne as a child. “There are too many candidates for the position hereabouts, and they might be of a similar mindset.” He gave his niece a careful look. “And you might find one of them more agreeable than the rest yourself.”

Lavinia scoffed quietly. “That would be a feat. Next, you’ll be telling me Elinor will find one. Or Barbara. Or that one will persuade Lucinda out of the kitchen to socialize.” She looked over her shoulder and made a brief chirp of a sound. “Speaking of candidates…” She glanced at the others, her lips quirking into a smile. “Perhaps I shall devote myself to controlling Letitia this evening. ‘Twould be a kindness, don’t you think?”