When the cottage came into view, Ellie turned to Charles and said, "My father has returned."
He raised his brows. "How can you tell?"
"He's lit a candle in his office. He will be working on his sermon."
"Already? Sunday is days away. I remember my vicar frantically scribbling away every Saturday eve. He would frequently come up to Wycombe Abbey for inspiration."
"Really?" Ellie asked with an amused smile. "He found you that inspiring? I had no idea you were such an angelic child."
"Quite the opposite, I'm afraid. He liked to study me and then choose which of my sins would serve as his next sermon's theme."
"Oh, dear," Ellie replied, smothering a laugh. "How did you bear him?"
"It was worse than you think. He doubled as my Latin tutor and gave me lessons three times per week. He claimed I had been put on this earth to torture him."
"That seems rather irreverent for a vicar."
Charles shrugged. "He was also overfond of drink."
Ellie reached to pull open the front door, but before her hand connected with the knob, Charles laid a restraining hand on her arm. When she looked up at him in question, he said in a quiet voice, "A word with you before I meet your father?"
"Of course," she replied, moving away from the door.
His mouth was tight when he said, "You are still committed to marrying me the day after tomorrow, are you not?"
Ellie suddenly felt dizzy. Charles, who had been so adamant about holding her to her promise, seemed to be offering her an escape clause. She could cry off, say she had cold feet...
"Eleanor," he prodded.
She swallowed, thinking of how tedious her life had become. The prospect of marrying a stranger terrified her, but not nearly as much as a lifetime of boredom. No, it would be worse than that. A lifetime of boredom punctuated by bouts with Mrs. Foxglove. Whatever the earl's faults—and Ellie had a feeling they might be many—she knew in her heart that he was not an evil or weak man. Surely she could find happiness with him.
Charles touched her shoulder, and she nodded. Ellie thought she saw his shoulders sag slightly with relief, but within moments the mask of the dashing young earl was back in place on his face. "Are you ready to go in?" she asked.
He nodded, and Ellie pushed open the door and called out, "Papa?" After a moment of silence she said, "I'll just go to his study and fetch him."
Charles waited and in a moment Ellie reentered the room, followed by a rather stern-looking man with thinning gray hair.
"Mrs. Foxglove had to return home," Ellie said, flashing Charles a secret smile. "But may I present my father, the Reverend Mr. Lyndon. Papa, this is Charles Wycombe, Earl of Billington."
The two men shook hands, silently assessing one another. Charles thought the reverend seemed too rigid and forbidding to have fathered such a bright flame as Eleanor. He could tell by the way Mr. Lyndon looked at him that he fell short of the son-in-law ideal, as well.
They exchanged introductory pleasantries, sat down, and then once Ellie had left the room to prepare some tea, the reverend turned to Charles and said, "Most men would approve of a future son-in-law solely because he is an earl. I am not such a man."
"I didn't think so, Mr. Lyndon. Clearly Eleanor has been raised by a man of stern moral character." Charles had intended the words merely to placate the reverend, but as he spoke, he realized he meant them. Eleanor Lyndon had never even once shown symptoms of being dazzled by his title or his wealth. In fact, she seemed far more interested in her three hundred pounds than his vast fortune.
The reverend leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to discern the sincerity behind the earl's words. "I won't try to prevent the marriage," he said quietly. "I did that once, with my older daughter, and the consequences were disastrous. But I will tell you this: If you mistreat Eleanor in any way, I shall descend upon you with all of the hellfire and torment I can muster."
Charles couldn't stop one corner of his lips from turning upward in a respectful smile. He imagined that the reverend could muster quite a bit of hellfire and torment. "You have my word that Eleanor will be treated like a queen."
"There is one more thing."
"Yes?"
The reverend cleared his throat. "Are you overfond of spirits?"
Charles blinked, a bit startled by the question. "I certainly have a glass when appropriate, but I do not spend my days and nights in drunken stupors, if that is what you are asking."
"Then perhaps you might explain why you reek of whiskey?"
Charles fought back an absurd urge to laugh, and explained to the reverend what had happened that afternoon and how Ellie had accidentally poured whiskey on him.
Mr. Lyndon leaned back, satisfied. He didn't smile, but then, Charles doubted he smiled often. "Good," the reverend said. "Now that we understand each other, allow me to be the first to welcome you to the family."
"I am glad to be a part of it."
The reverend nodded. "I would like to perform the ceremony, if that is acceptable to you."
"Of course."
Ellie chose that moment to return to the room, carrying a tray with a tea service.
"Eleanor," her father said, "I have decided that the earl will suit you nicely."
Ellie let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She had the approval of her father, something that meant more to her than she'd realized until that very moment. Now all she had to do was actually get married.
Married. She gulped. Lord help her.