Page 31 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
“That’s it?” Lady Darcy asked.
“That’s it,” Eleanor replied with finality. “There is no ill-fated Shakespearean drama building itself around us. After we sort the last of our issues out, we will peaceably part ways.”
“That is…” Lady Darcy’s expression was clearly disappointed, “…is understandable, but we’ll see how the tides flow.”
The conversation mercifully flitted from Oberton to the issues of the day, what was going on at Westminster and the colonies and the upcoming birth of the Duke and Duchess of Kent’s child.
“I think it will be a girl,” Lady Darcy offered as the carriage trundled by a lake.
Eleanor’s mind flitted to when Oberton was sitting beside her and offering her the sweet bun. He had not looked…combative, nor had he looked aggressive at the museum. The anger had only begun after she had gotten irritated. She had agreed to accept his apology when he decided to make it, but was she losing out on much more that he could offer? His friendship perhaps?
“Eleanor?”
She turned to her two companions, who had been carrying on the conversation while she had mused. “Do you think I am the problem?”
Her words visibly stunned the two and Lady Darcy’s wide eyes looked lost while she darted between, she and Miss Malcolm. To ease her discomfort, Eleanor turned to her chaperone, “Miss Malcolm, I need both of you to tell me the truth. Do you think I am too hard on His Grace?”
* * *
The Dukedom of Oberton
Icarus was nosing at something in the bushes while Erebus was running circles around him. The two wolfhounds were large enough to reach his waist and had unbridled energy. As he had come back to the ancestry seat, he had decided to exercise them himself instead of having a groom or a footman to do it.
The garden had not been the best choice for the dogs as they could be very destructive but Aaron had not had the energy to go to the large pasture beyond his home. Eight hours of slogging away in his study on the trading company stock issues, delegating money to repair the ships and signing off on the retail prices for the merchandise had been tedious and mind numbing.
At one point he had found the walls closing in on him and knew his mind was going to fizzle out if he did not change his surroundings. The hour he had after his early dinner and before going back to London was fulfilled with a therapeutic forty minutes of playing with his dogs.
Crouching to pry the ball from Icarus’ jaw he tossed it away and smiled when the hound bounded off. Dulled nails clawed then at his foot and Aaron looked down only to cringe. In Icarus’ mouth was a dead bird, its body held fast between wicked fangs. The dog’s eyes were bright and begging for praise and Aaron reluctantly gave it to him. How could he not? Hunting was in his hound’s blood after all.
With a command to drop the dead bird, Aaron picked it by his broken wing and placed it away from the dogs. He would send a footman to dispose of it. Crouching down he scratched both hounds’ muzzles.
“I’m going to miss you, boys,” Aaron replied. “I have to head back to London tonight. I have barely scratched the surface when it comes to Eleanor but I must keep at it. Rather like how you nose at my pockets and hands when I come to see you.”
“Your Grace,” Harold said from the doorway. “Your carriage is ready.”
Sighing, Aaron knelt and scratched their ears, “Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone and I’ll take you to hunt the next time the season comes around.”
Standing, he brushed off his waistcoat, attempting to get any lingering dog hairs off the fabric and went inside. While crossing the threshold he passed Harold, “Direct a footman to dispose of that dead bird Icarus just killed and yes, before you point it out, I do see the irony.”
“I would be disappointed if you did not,” Mr. Harold remarked dryly.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Aaron reached his study and gathered his great coat. Forgoing a hat, the Duke ensured his particulars were in order and grabbed an umbrella in case of a sudden spring downpour.
Leaving the room, he stopped to bid his farewell to Harold. “If anything comes up, any concerns that you cannot deal with, send me word immediately.”
“I will endeavor to do so, Your Grace. Have a safe journey.” Mr. Harold bowed.
“Take it easy, Harold,” Aaron said while approaching his carriage. He was thankful that he had not been asked about Eleanor.
Hopping inside, he settled in the seat and from inside his coat took out a burnished gold compass. It was one of the last things his father had given him before he had died and the gloss had dulled from the many years of him rubbing his thumb over it.
Inside the compass rested the pair of rings his mother and father had worn for all thirty-seven years of their loving union. He never parted from this tiny trinket as carrying it around made him feel closer to them.
Who is going to wear my mother’s ring?
With a jolt, the carriage began to move and Aaron kept looking at the ring until the dusk started to creep up on them. Thankfully, the carriage had entered London quickly enough to be safe from country road highwaymen and other blackguards. While entering King’s Cross, the carriage stopped briefly for the driver to light the lamps and then they were off again.
Turning into Mayfair, Aaron rubbed his tired eyes. What was he going to do about Lady Eleanor? After Darcy had made the connection with Eleanor, he regretted roping in Lady Darcy to aid him in connecting with her. The museum was his idea entirely and it had somehow backfired on him and Darcy. She truly seemed to like Lady Eleanor and any deception on her part would slowly hack away at her morals, which was why had freed her from his request.
