Page 63 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
“No, My Lady,” the maid replied. “A footman of his, I believe, was the messenger.”
Her mind had been delighted and captivated by her mother’s life but that happiness had been cut short by the uncertainty inside her as she had not dealt with how she was going to address Aaron.
“Thank you,” Eleanor said while reaching out for the card on the brushed silver tray, “Prepare my bath, please.”
Placing the card on top of the page she was on, she looked at the card. Aaron’s slashing handwriting was now familiar to her. The card was asking for an evening call but she did not feel like giving him permission.
The pain of knowing that Aaron might have made a wager about her was three-pronged lance of pain in her heart. How could she face this man knowing that he had betrayed her? How could she bare her soul to him again knowing that she loved him but he did not love her?
The diary nearly toppled to the floor but she held her grip on it. Love…she loved Aaron. It felt like a bitter infusion to swallow but she forced it down. She loved him. But could she face him?
Not returning the card was a blatant message that the correspondence was not wanted and though it pained her, Eleanor wanted to do exactly that. However, she reconsidered and took out her own. At the back, she wrote,Adieu.
Goodbye.
Aaron would get the simple message.
Closing the diary, she went to her wardrobe to take out her dress for the day, trying—and failing—to forget Aaron’s brilliant green eyes.
* * *
Adieu.
That was what Eleanor had written and it was a word Aaron was beginning to abhor. Why was she telling him goodbye all of a sudden? Where had he gone wrong? Or was it not him? Was Eleanor suddenly getting cold feet? Did she not want him to court her?
Questions kept piling themselves on other questions and by one in the afternoon, Aaron had enough. He knew that he should wait but prudence had been overwritten by annoyance. If Eleanor wanted to cut him off, she would have to do it to his face. Taking out two cards he grabbed a pen and scribbled something on the back of the first one.
“Summon my carriage,” Aaron ordered stiffly.
Taking a card with him, Aaron tugged on his greatcoat and slipped a kidskin purse of money into the inside pocket. He was not going to leave Eleanor without an answer to her avoidance.
He turned to leave but his eyes caught the dark gloves from last night. The one he had used to help her into the hackney carriage. Without thinking he snatched them up.
Perhaps this will spark her memory,was his thought while boarding the vehicle.
A walk to her house would have sufficed, but Aaron was not going to be so pedestrian. Irritation was bubbling in his stomach and fear was lurking at the edges of his mind. What had caused her to turn so quickly?
Mr. Ambrose received him in the balmy hour of two o’clock and greeted him with a pleasant smile.
“Your Grace, I do believe that Lady Eleanor sent back a reply.”
“She did,” Aaron added, “but it is insufficient.”
His lips thinned, “Perhaps, this time it will be different. Your card, Your Grace?”
After fishing in his inner pocket, Aaron gave the butler the first unmarked card. “I will inquire, Your Grace.”
If I know Eleanor, she is going to refuse this as well.Aaron mused as the man walked off, the black of his uniform sucking in the light from the large windows.
In three minutes, he was proved right. The butler came with a polite refusal.
“I anticipated that,” Aaron smirked and took out the next card. With the words written on the back, Aaron said, “Give her this one and we’ll see.”
Mr. Ambrose’s eyebrows darted up but he did not question it. He turned away and Aaron spun in his place to look at the clock there and counted the time. Fifteen ticks of the second hand had barely gone by when Mr. Ambrose’s hurried footsteps pounded on the floor.
“Er, she will see you now, Your Grace,” the man spoke quickly.
Aaron did not hide his grin, “I thought so.”
