Page 53 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
The carriage closed in on the entrance and soon enough they were helped out. Descending the short flight of stairs into the ground floor where the circular counter was surrounded by a wide space of flooring and packed bookshelves gave Eleanor a wash of peace.
A lady and her male counterpart were musing the shelves. Looking briefly up, the hollowed-out circle above her was also packed with books, Eleanor went over to the non-fiction section seeking a book on Aristotle.
Miss Malcolm meandered over to the gothic novels and cookery books and Eleanor, while keeping her in sight, skimmed over the spines. A small disturbance caused her to look up and she saw the new owner, George Lackington bowing to a man she faintly recognized as Bartholomew Collings, the Duke of Wyndrake. A thin man accompanied them.
She turned back as the three ambled over while Mr. Lackington hurried off to ring up a book. “Lady Eleanor, good day to you. I would say what a surprise to seeing you here but I cannot, can I? Your reputation for chasing knowledge is well known.”
Well said. For the sake of peace, I will ignore the thinly-veiled contempt.
Eleanor curved her lips in a polite smile and curtsied, “Good day to you, Your Grace. How do you do?”
“Eh,” one of the man’s dark-clad shoulders shrugged. “Raining cats and dogs. The missus asked me to pick up another one of her torrid romance novels which she insisted I get even though she has an army of servants at her disposal.”
Eleanor did not know where this discussion was going but felt she had to end it soon, “Oh, please confer my best wishes to Her Grace.”
“And you have mine,” the Duke added with a regal nod before stepping off.
Thanking God that the man had moved away, Eleanor was glad to be rid of him until Mr. Lackington came back with the book in a bag. Just before the Duke and his assistant left, she overheard Wyndrake snort derisively. “It seems Oberton still has not made good on our bet to tame her.”
Eleanor froze in her place as her chest was suddenly ripped open and her soul beneath it was battered with a cannonball of devastation. A bet to tame her. Was that what Oberton had been doing all along? Was she some sort of prize? Was she beginning to love the man who was only using her to make a name for himself?
“My Lady?” Miss Malcolm asked from beside her.
Stiffening her trembling lip Eleanor’s voice cracked, “Let’s leave Miss Malcolm, now please.”
“My Lady, please don’t listen to—”
Without another word, Eleanor spun on her heel and walked out with a growing numbness in her chest.
* * *
Time crawled.
Aaron had looked at the clock no less than ten times only to note that barely two minutes had passed between his ten glances. Two-minutes and twenty-six seconds to be exact. The day was dwindling down to evening but it felt like an eternity before night would fall.
He was dead set on following Eleanor and the child. Mayfair might be out of the purview of thieves and other hoodlums but Aaron was not going to take any chances.
His pistol had been primed from midday and his set of throwing knives were sharpened enough to cut a spirit in half. At his first year in Oxford, Julius had inveigled him into going to a circus and there he had witnessed a daredevil act of a man, blindfolded, throwing knives at an unprotected target.
He had been terrified out of his wits until the act finished and then after the fright had petered out of his system, he had been inundated with awe. He bought his first set two days later from a merchant who transported curious objects from the east and had practiced with them in his spare time.
Aaron glanced back at the clock and cursed under his breath, three-minutes and two-seconds had passed. Snapping the book closed in barely tethered anger, Aaron strode to the window and braced his palms on the polished sill.
Eagerly, his eyes sought out the tips of the Stanley house and realized he had not made his case to Duke Brisdane yet.
Tomorrow,he mused,I will do that tomorrow when I know she’s safe.
Turning back, he glanced back at the clock—three-minutes and forty-five seconds. Aaron bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was probably going to be fit for Bedlam by the time night fell.
* * *
Sequestered in her room, Eleanor had not left it from the moment she had arrived home. Miss Malcolm had tried her best to console or even distract her but Eleanor had not listened to one word. She had sunk into her mind and blocked the world out.
The walls felt like a cage but she did not try to escape. Her head hurt, her eyes were stinging with unshed tears and her heart was numb. The silence was eating at her even as she had the urge to scream.
Were the Duke's words right? Did Aaron approached me because of a bet? Come to think of it, Aaron never acknowledged me before he sent the dance card. Then after I became friends with Lady Darcy, Aaron was suddenly everywhere. It is just too coincidental.
Or…could it be that he truly cared for her? Which was it?
