Page 11 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
She stood and curtsied, “Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, my lord.”
With the footman showing him out, Eleanor sat again and looked at the tray with dismay. Was this how she was going to be all her life? The man had been nothing but polite yet she had put him off. Why?
“Lady Eleanor—”
“Thank you for being with us today but, please, excuse me, Miss Malcolm,” she said softly. “Have a wonderful afternoon.”
Without preamble, she left the sitting room and did not stop until she got back to her room. Maria was gone and there was not a speck of dust in sight. For such a young child, her work was impeccable.
Listlessly, she gravitated to the drawer where Duke Oberton’s note drew her like a puppet on a string. Opening it, she took it out and silently read line by line. With every repetition of his name, she felt turmoil build in her chest.
Why was this bothering her so much?
The question repeated itself so many time in the next three days that Eleanor found it tiring and mind numbing. Would it be wrong to just take a carriage to the Oberton dukedom and demand Barvolt explain himself? Most likely.
“My lady?”
“Hm?” Eleanor asked.
“Is something on that paper troubling you?” Maria asked. “You’ve been lookin’ at it for over fifteen minutes now.”
Fifteen minutes? Oh, Lord. She dropped the card back into the drawer and shoved it closed with unnecessary force.
“I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “I’d not realized.”
Maria nervously fidgeted with her broom, “My lady…you’ve been lookin’ at that paper for days…but there’s this look on your face.”
Now Eleanor was intrigued, “What look, Maria?”
“Er…I see it sometime when my Ma used to look out for Da…” Maria said quietly. “Ma used to tell me that its hope…are you hopin’ for whatever’s on that paper, My Lady?”
Eleanor could have been knocked over with a feather. Was that the look on her face? No, it could not be. That was laughable! What on earth could she be hoping to get from the Duke? More derision?
“I’m sorry Maria,” Eleanor said. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Oh…sorry fer oversteppin’ my bounds, my lady,” Maria said timidly. “It won’t happen again.”
“Nonsense,” Eleanor dismissed her comment with a wave. “You did nothing of the kind, now, let me get out of your way.”
She was almost at the doorway when an errant thought ran through Eleanor’s mind.
Perhaps I have been hoping for something from the Duke…but only for him to apologize to me that is.
Halfway down the corridor, Miss Malcolm came around it breathlessly, “Lady Eleanor, I am so glad I caught you, your father is coming home tomorrow, and he would like to meet Lord Greenville.”
Dash it all!
* * *
The Barvolt Townhome
Mayfair
“I must have lost my mind,” Aaron sighed while looking into the dancing and hypnotic amber flames which blazed happily inside the sitting room’s majestic marble fireplace. The long rectangular room was clothed in thick drapery and thicker carpet with a splatter of wingback chairs and a chaise lounge.
Not many days after the fiasco at the Greyson house, Aaron had removed to the Mayfair townhome for a reprieve from his ancestral home. His sudden move was not because of Harold’s sympathy after he had admitted his major faux-pas with Lady Eleanor to him—though Harold’s response did irk him somewhat—it was more wanting a new atmosphere to think.
He still did not know why he had given Lady Eleanor the card and the more he kept wracking his brain over it, the more confused he got. In desperation, he had almost gone to see her at her home but stopped. If he couldn’t rationalize what he had done to himself, how was he going to miraculously explain it to her?
