She took a deep breath and looked back at Sir Jessamyn as the heavy weight of practicality sank through her. The little dragon was gazing up at her from the bed with trusting golden eyes. Something seemed oddly different about his face, but she hadn’t time to worry about that, either.
Freedom had been such a beautiful dream. But it was long past time for Elinor to be sensible again, for both of their sakes.
“I can’t let you starve,” she whispered to Sir Jessamyn. “Icannot.”
She squared her shoulders and reached for the valise that held all of her clothing. Before she could even pull out her only clean morning gown, though, she heard Sir John’s voice rise with unmistakable finality.
“Damn it, man, my daughter will have her due!”
Sighing, Elinor snatched up her dressing gown, instead, from the spindly wooden chair beside the bed. She wrapped it tightly around herself as she hurried to the door, and turned the handle just as her uncle’s fist sailed through the air to knock. Past him, Benedict Hawkins was reaching out to Sir John’s bull-like shoulder, as if he were about to physically pull the older man away.
Both of them stopped and stared at her with as much horrified astonishment as if they’d seen a ghost. Her uncle’s fist hung as if frozen in mid-air. Benedict Hawkins took a full step backwards, blinking.
Oh, for goodness’ sake!Crow-like Elinor might be, but her appearance—even directly after a night of sleep, before she’d washed her face, dressed, or brushed her hair—couldn’t bethatfrightening, could it? Or at the very least, they could pretend otherwise for courtesy’s sake.
She lifted her chin, pride swelling to push aside her fear. “Well, Sir John?” she said coldly. If she was to be disgraced in front of Mr. Hawkins, at least she would bear it with dignity.
Her uncle shook his head. Then he shook it again, his big jowls quivering. His meaty fist lowered; he gave it a horrified look.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, to his fist. “I had no idea—that is, I thought—I was led to believe—” He whirled around to face Mr. Hawkins. “That fool of a maidsaidthis was my niece’s room, didn’t she? You heard her as well as I did! I’ll see her sacked for this. I’ll—”
Elinor interrupted him for the first time ever. “Sir John? What is happening?”
He drew a deep breath that filled his broad chest, straining at the gold buttons on his striped waistcoat. “Mrs. De Lacey,” he said heavily, and bowed. “I am so sorry to have disturbed you.”
* * *
As Elinor’suncle bowed before her, she felt the world spin around her for the second time in two days.
I am dreaming, she thought.I must still be asleep.
She didn’tfeelasleep, though. She could smell the rich, well-spiced scent of cooking meat drifting up the staircase from the inn’s kitchens, and she could hear men’s voices far below. A clock was ticking nearby, her back still ached badly from her accident the day before, and she didn’t think she could have dreamed the small brown mole in the middle of her uncle’s pink bald spot. She had never even seen that before; he had never bowed to her.
And Benedict Hawkins was staring at her with gape-mouthed astonishment...until her gaze met his.
He closed his mouth with a snap. Then he visibly swallowed and straightened his shoulders. “Mrs. De Lacey, please forgive me for addressing you without any introduction, and in such awkward circumstances, too, but—”
“Mr. Hawkins?” She smiled weakly.
His eyebrows shot up. “You know who I am?”
“Ah…” She clutched the neck of her dressing gown.
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Mrs. De Lacey, but the young lady who was here last night—do you know if she’s safe and well? Or—”
“Of if she took my daughter’s stolen dragon with her!” Sir John straightened, glowering anew. “I’ll see her locked away for that treachery, family or no!”
Elinor stared at the two men. “Forgive me,” she said. “I was asleep until a moment ago, and I can’t—I don’t seem to understand—”
“Of course.” Mr. Hawkins winced. “We’ve woken you. Our apologies, truly.”
“Oh! Yes,” Sir John said, and bowed again. “Deepestapologies, Mrs. De Lacey. I can only hope it hasn’t given you too much of a distaste—gad, if I’ve offended you, my daughter will have my head! Now that you’ve finally condescended to visit us after all—that is, if I haven’t changed your mind—Good God, if I have…!”
He stopped, breathing hard, and snatched a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his bright red coat. He wiped it across his glistening forehead and then clutched it in his hand, crumpling it with the force of his grip. “Pleasedo tell me you can forgive my rudeness, ma’am!”
Elinor swallowed hard and put one hand out to the corner of the doorway for balance.
“Perhaps you might do us the honor of meeting us downstairs when you’re ready?” Mr. Hawkins suggested. “There is a private drawing room—”
