Ravenwood(53)

With a flourish, he presented what was behind his back - a small box wrapped with pretty paper and tied with a lovely fabric bow. She was almost sorry it was so beautifully packaged. She wanted to hate it.

“Oh, how lovely.” She reached out to take it and he pulled it back playfully, making her move closer into his space to bring it within her grasp.

“There you are,” he said, once she was more intimately in his space. “Good girl.”

He purred the words and she had a strong visceral reaction. Her chest tightened further and the hair on the back of her neck rose. She had an urge to pull her lips back and bare her blunt-edged teeth. He handed the parcel over and she took it gingerly, meeting his gaze. She did not blink nor look away bashfully as she had been taught a young lady should do. To look away from Hayter was to take your eye off the hunter.

Elinore unwrapped the elegantly adored box with care, ignoring the eager sounds that escaped Hayter’s throat. It contained a strip of lace. Perhaps a handkerchief? She pulled the flimsy fabric out of its confinement, not understanding. It was small circle of lace, made of a material that had some give to it. She had no idea what it was.

“It’s a garter.”

Elinore held it away from her as though it were poisoned. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s meant to be worn about the leg. Let me show you.”

He knelt down at her feet and she scampered backwards.

“I must decline.”

“Come now, Nora. We’re family. It’s hardly inappropriate.”

“I decline most strenuously,” she said, putting as much steel into her voice as she could. In her mind, she envisioned every stern schoolmarm and severe preacher she’d ever heard and mimicked their tone.

Hayter seemed amused by her reluctance, sighing. “I forget you are a young girl and the cosmopolitan ways of the world are unknown to you.”

Not knowing how to respond, she held her tongue.

“But I hope, in time, you’ll come to realize that there are many… advantages to being stationed at Ravenwood, and many benefits that may come your way if only you could or would rise to another station.”

What on earth was he on about? Elinore resisted the urge to take a step away from him, fearing it would show weakness. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Hayter smiled, considering her. “You’re very much like your late aunt, Victoria. I loved her dearly.”

Elinore felt her eyes narrow. Elinore had seen the painting of Victoria and knew she favored her aunt in features, but it was clear from when she wore her aunt’s dress, they were not alike in stature. Was Hayter intimating that Elinore should be the next mistress of Ravenwood? It was absurd. She’d sooner pitch all her belongings into a river and live life amongst gypsies selling fortunes and baubles than marry Hayter.

“You must still be completely inconsolable at her loss,” Elinore managed.

Hayter’s lips quirked. “Well, not completely, not anymore.”

The library was silent as they stood there, staring at each other. Hayter watched her unblinking, his eyes like some large beast of prey. Elinore dared not move, fearing that any motion, no matter what, would indicate surrender.

A knock at the door sounded. Neither she nor Hayter turned toward the door. The door creaked open and a servant popped her head in, Mary.

“Dinner is served.”

“Ah,” Hayter said, breaking his frozen posture with sudden movement. He clapped. “How wonderful. Dinner.”

He turned and exited the room with a joyful bounce in his step. The moment he was outside the library, Elinore sagged. She now feared she was locked in some sort of battle with her uncle. She prayed she was up to the task.

Elinore’s spine had never been more straight, her posture never more perfect, and her manners never more impeccable than they were at dinner. Though she was poured a glass of wine and had been indulging of late, she needed her wits about her and she left her glass untouched. For dinner, Mrs. Thistlewaite had prepared a lovely roast with country vegetables. The meat was incredibly rare and she normally wouldn’t have cared for it, but tonight, it made her mouth water. She ate her entire portion and wondered how she could get another serving without seeming greedy. Hayter’s eyes rested on her the entire meal as he kept up a deluge of words. He no doubt thought he was regaling her with his business acumen and conquests - winning her over with the notion of his virility and power. Truthfully, she was incredibly bored by the entire thing. What did she care if he had piles of gold down in the basement or diamond necklaces in the attic? She was not fond of him. She had not once entertained thoughts of a romantic nature for him. He was acting as though she should be grateful for his attention, for his wealth and for his prowess. It was maddening.

After dinner, though she hated to use the excuse, she claimed she suffered a headache and bid her uncle goodnight, exiting quickly before he could trap her in the room or worse, the parlor with its piano. Elinore took a quick detour to the kitchen to thank Mrs. Thistlewaite for a marvelously prepared dinner, smiling when the older woman blushed in response.

Once Elinore was in her room, Mrs. Davenport, bless her soul, came to check on her and change her bandages. Though Elinore’s wounds were sealing shut, they still retained the horrid black color. Lines of black wound up her arm, moving across her shoulder. Mrs. Davenport reached out and touched one of the dark vines on Elinore’s forearm, her fingers light and careful.