Her face colored. "Very well. What precisely is this boon you demand?"
"It is most benign, I assure you. Merely an afternoon in your company. After all, we are courting, aren't we?"
"I suppose one could call it—"
"Tomorrow," he interrupted. "I shall pick you up promptly at one o'clock."
Ellie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
A few minutes later a carriage was brought around, and Charles watched as a footman helped her up. He leaned on his cane, absently flexing his ankle. The bloody injury had better heal quickly; it looked as if he might have to chase his wife around the house.
He stood on the front steps for several minutes after the carriage disappeared from view, watching as the sun hung on the horizon and painted the sky.
Her hair, he suddenly thought. Eleanor's hair was the exact color of the sun at his favorite time of day.
His heart filled with unexpected joy, and he smiled.
Chapter 4
By the time Ellie arrived home that evening, she was a bundle of nerves. It was one thing to agree to this crazy scheme of marriage to Billington. It was quite another to calmly face her stern and domineering father and inform him of her plans.
As her luck would have it, Mrs. Foxglove had returned, presumably to tell the reverend what an evil, ungrateful daughter he had. Ellie waited patiently throughout Mrs. F.'s tirade until she boomed, "Your daughter"—here she stabbed a stubby finger in Ellie's direction—"will have to mend her ways. I don't know how I will be able to live in peace with her in my house, but—"
"You won't have to," Ellie interrupted.
Mrs. Foxglove's head swung around, her eyes blinking furiously. "I beg your pardon."
"You won't have to live with me," Ellie repeated. "I'm leaving the day after tomorrow."
"And where do you think you're going?" Mr. Lyndon demanded.
"I'm getting married."
That was certainly a conversation stopper.
Ellie filled the silence with: "In three days. I am getting married in three days."
Mrs. Foxglove recovered her normally extensive powers of speech and said, "Don't be ridiculous. I happen to know you have no suitors."
Ellie allowed herself a small smile. "I fear you are incorrect."
Mr. Lyndon cut in with, "Would you care to tell us the name of this suitor?"
"I'm surprised you didn't notice his carriage when I arrived home this evening. He is the Earl of Billington."
"Billington?" the reverend repeated in disbelief.
"Billington?" Mrs. Foxglove screeched, clearly unable to decide whether she should be delighted by her imminent connection to the aristocracy, or furious with Ellie for having the audacity to perform such a coup on her own.
"Billington," Ellie said firmly. "I believe we will suit very nicely. Now, if you will both excuse me, I have to pack."
She made it halfway to her room before she heard her father call out her name. When she turned around, she saw him brush off Mrs. Foxglove's grasping hand and make his way to her side.
"Eleanor," he said. His face was pale, and the creases around his eyes were deeper than usual.
"Yes, Papa?"
"I—I know I made a terrible muck of things with your sister. I would—" He stopped and cleared his throat. "I would be honored if you would allow me to perform the ceremony on Thursday."
Ellie found herself blinking back tears. Her father was proud, and such an admission and request could only be wrenched from deep within his heart. "I don't know what the earl has planned, but I would be honored if you would perform the ceremony." She placed her hand on her father's. "It would mean a great deal to me."
The reverend nodded, and Ellie noticed that there were tears in his eyes. On impulse, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a small peck on the cheek. It had been a long time since she had done that. Too long, she realized, and vowed that she would somehow make her marriage work. When she had a family of her own, her children would not be afraid to tell their parents what they felt. She just hoped that Billington thought the same way.
* * *
Charles soon realized that he had forgotten to ask Ellie for her address, but it wasn't difficult to find the residence of Bellfield's vicar. He knocked on the door promptly at one o'clock and was surprised when the door was opened not by Ellie, not by her father, but by a plump, dark-haired woman who immediately squealed, "You must be the earrrrrrrrrrrl."
"I suppose I must."
"I cannot tell you how honored and delighted we are to have you join our humble little family."
Charles looked about, wondering if he was at the wrong cottage. This creature couldn't possibly be related to Ellie. The woman reached for his arm, but he was saved by a sound coming from across the room that could only be described as a barely suppressed groan.
Ellie. Thank God.
"Mrs. Foxglove," she said, her voice laced with irritation. She quickly made her way across the room.
Ah, Mrs. Foxglove. This must be the reverend's dreaded fiancee.
"Here comes my darling daughter now," Mrs. Foxglove said, turning toward Ellie with open arms.
Ellie dodged the older lady with an artful sidestep. "Mrs. Foxglove is my future stepmother," she said pointedly. "She spends a great deal of time here."
Charles bit back a smile, thinking that Ellie was going to grind her teeth to powder if she kept glowering at Mrs. Foxglove that way.
Mrs. Foxglove turned to Charles and said, "Dear Eleanor's mother passed on many years ago. I am delighted to be as a mother to her."