Page 19 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
“B-but…” the child’s head snapped back and forth as if she was waiting for a belt to come and smack her.
Eleanor crouched down and rested her hands on Maria’s skinny arms, “It’s nothing, Maria, please do not worry about it. Do you believe me?”
Silently, Maria nodded. Eleanor said, “Good, now go clear up the rest of the mess.”
While disrobing, Eleanor made sure to keep an eye on the little girl while donning a soft chemise and a wrapper. She was tying the robe closed when Maria finally cleared up all the glass and dumped the shards in a bucket.
Her door was knocked on and a maid, bearing a loaded tray of what Eleanor could smell was roasted pheasant and chestnut stuffing. “Your supper, My Lady.”
The maid settled the tray on the desk and curtsied before leaving. With her gone, Maria was fixing to leave until Eleanor stopped her. “Please, sit with me.”
Confusion was on Maria’s face until Eleanor patted the seat next to her, “I can’t eat all this by myself. I want to share it with you.”
A strange red took Maria’s face—be it shame or fear, Eleanor did not know—but the child sat. Pleased, she cut into the pheasant and diced the meat in thin slices. Cutting a roll in half, Eleanor laid the meat between the buttery bread and handed it over to Maria who hesitantly took it.
Careful to not make the child feel more self-conscious than she was, Eleanor applied herself to her meal while watching Maria out of the corner of her eye. The child was hesitant at first but when she got a good taste of it, Eleanor could see that she was fighting to not cram it all in her mouth.
Bleak sadness overtook her as she nibbled on the other roll. Maria clearly did not eat much and that pained her. For such a hard-working child she needed good food.
I’ll have a talk with the cook tomorrow.
“I’ll take the tray to the kitchen, My Lady,” Maria offered when Eleanor had finished what was left of her meal. “Thank you for that food, it was delicious.”
Smiling sadly, Eleanor nodded and handed off the tray to her. “Have a good night, Maria.”
Knowing that sleep was far from her, Eleanor trimmed a lamp and unearthed a book that was her one dark secret. It was a romance novel by Anne Radcliffe,A Sicilian Romance.
Every other book she had was of an academic nature, biology, astronomy, mathematics, philosophy, and even economics which all tended to her analytical side. This book, however, had grafted itself onto the one part of her that she did not show anyone—the part that dreamed.
Rarely did she allow herself to fall into the trap of fantasyland, a world that forsook the cold hardness of reality but when she did it was like plunging herself into a pool of water headfirst.
Every word came alive for her, she smelt the meadows and meals, heard the music in their ballrooms and felt Julia’s fear at being forced to marry someone she did not love. Even more, Eleanor felt the exhilaration Julia did while showing her love to the one who had captured her heart.
Her finger traced over word Hippolytus. From the description, in the book, she remembered the form of a darkly-authentic Italian count, but somehow as she drifted deeper into the book, her mind imposed the lightly-tanned skin tone and brown hair of the Duke of Oberton upon him.
It was no surprise then, that when she drifted off to sleep, she dreamed about him.
She was in a ballroom, the glittering edges of which were hazy poufs of clouds. Vivid colors of the other dancers flitted around her as she stood still in the very middle of the room, immobile. Her limbs felt dead and she couldn’t move, as hard as she tried. But then, the music went low and her eyes were drawn to a man at the other side of the room—Duke Oberton.
He stepped forward and like Moses before the red sea, the dancers parted and bowed away. With every step, her heart pounded in her chest until it was the only thing she heard.
He was impeccably dressed in full white, like an angel from heaven, and then he extended his gloved hand.
“Lady Eleanor, may I have this dance?"
Her limbs suddenly felt free and her hand lifted to his. The moment he took her into his arms her body was weightless. Eleanor did not even count what they were doing as dancing, she felt they were flying.
She was eclipsed by his warm green eyes and the tender touch he had on her body. The sweet soft melody wrapped itself around them and she forgot everything outside of the dance of a lifetime. He spun her and a laugh erupted from her mouth as she spun back and collapsed on his chest.
Giggling into his chest she felt him softly remove her, “This is not appropriate, Lady Eleanor.”
He then took her hands once again, they began moving softly again, moving in flawless unison. The music grew to a crescendo and as it grew, he twirled her around and around with dizzying speed. Eleanor saw faces flash by her but none stuck and then she was back into Oberton’s arms. She clung to him as her forehead met his chest and when she did lift her head, she could see deep emotion but had not the faintest clue which emotion it was.
“Your Grace?”
“Aaron,” he said softly. “Call me by my Christian name…Eleanor.” The timbre of his tone felt like a warm blanket clothing her. “And I’m here to rescue you.”
She was perplexed, “Rescue me…from what?”
