Page 75 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
“But we got there safe,” Aaron assured her. “At that point, I still did not know why she was risking her life for the child but then, I should have known better. Eleanor hates injustice and was making sure the child did not feel it.”
“What happened next?”
This was where Aaron forced himself to choose his words carefully and told her how Eleanor had run to his house a day later in tears. He told her how she had given him her mother’s diary and what he had read had turned his stomach.
“She then begged me to go see Maria’s mother for the whole truth,” Aaron explained, “It...it was not pretty, Lady Darcy. Her father had done some atrocious things to her mother. Please do not force me to spell any of them out.”
“More atrocious that what had happened to me?” Lady Darcy’s expression was calm.
Aaron jaw went stiff. It was nothing any of them had wanted to remember, the fateful night when Julius had found a beaten, and shivering Lady Darcy on the banks of the Thames River. That night had felt like three days crammed into one.
He remembered that night, seeing Julius pale and frightened out of his wits. Julius had not allowed anyone to touch her but him, and that was knowing that he had never met the woman in his life. Aaron remembered when Julius had taken her hand, she had whispered her name in a fainting breath and the look they had shared that night had prophesied love. Thank God, Aaron had not been far and had whisked her away to a private hospital.
“Much,” Aaron replied. “You are not dead.”
Lady Darcy then turned to Julius, “Do whatever you can to help her.”
Another look was shared between Aaron and Julius, before they both spoke, “We will.”
“Good,” Lady Darcy smiled. “Now, who’s ready for dinner?”
* * *
The darkness was seeping into her room and most of the house had gone to bed already. Eleanor knew that she could not stay one more day in this house as her father forbade to see Aaron.
Do not make this into some trite Shakespearean tragedy.Eleanor was about to make sure some justice would come from her loss. She had already lost her mother, and while she had no qualms about losing her father, losing Aaron was not acceptable. He was the first soul who had broken through her barriers and had seen her. The real her. The one she had hidden from the world.
Her story would read like a recounting of a naïve girl, Juliet reborn perhaps, blindly trusting the first man who she had connected with. She had no problem with that. Eleanor knew that if she was successful, her name would be on the lips of the ton for a while, and if the fleeting glimpses of the life she envisioned with Aaron was to come true, perhaps not to the day she died.
They could say all they wanted—Eleanor did not care.
Moving away from the window, she tugged her coat on where she had already secured her money, the letter-opener, and her mother’s diary. She looked around the room once more and though all she could see was finery, she had no attachment to any of it. She could easily leave all this behind.
She turned to go but then turned back and walked to the drawer where Aaron’s dance card, written over with his name rested. She took that with her. Approaching the window, she slipped out of it and carefully climbed down.
Some hours ago, a soft rain had blown in and the stones were still dew-wet. Her descent had to be done inch by inch if she wanted to get to the ground without falling. The night was unseasonably cool for a summer night and wind buffeted the back of her head as she moved from one handhold to the other.
Suddenly, her left foot slipped and she grabbed onto the closest jutting stone to keep from tumbling down. Pressing herself onto the damp wall, Eleanor breathed through her fright and felt her hood fall to the nape of her neck. A cold breeze fluttered on the sensitive skin there and made gooseflesh rise.
With her composure back, Eleanor began climbing down and finally got to the ground. She eyed the corner of the house with fear. She had managed to get away with Maria’s escape because the house’s security had been lax.
Wherever her father went he took three ex-military men with him for personal security and those men had come back with him. The men were as close to shadows as Eleanor had ever seen. They operated with silence and darkness as comrades-in-arms. Any of them could be making rounds on the property to safeguard it and see her.
Please, let me run free tonight.
Placing her back on the wall, she moved foot by foot toward the corner. Her breath was loud in her ear and her heart was hammering. Her head snapped to every shifting shadow and her ears heard every rustle of the trees.
She had to ease away from the wall to circumvent a plant that had latched itself to that section. Something wet and furry ran over her foot, sending fright up her spine. Eleanor had narrowly managed to clap her hands over her mouth to stifle the frightened cry she was about to let go. Terrified out of her mind, she looked down and spotted the twitching nose of an ink-black rat before it scurried off.
Keep calm, Eleanor. Keep it together. This is your one chance.
It was dark but her eyes measured the stretch of lawn between her and the tree line. If she got into the woods, she would take the same westbound direction to the boundary wall and from there make it to the street.
Only in the heart of the wooded area between the house and the street would she feel safe. She edged closer to the front, taking care to avoid the line of unkempt bushes that were there. Eleanor could taste her freedom, and it was headier and more intoxicating than anything she had felt before. She had moved past frustration, anger, and resentment with her father, all that was left was desperation.
Heart pounding, she inched forward but just as she was going to run off, voices came from the corner behind her. Eleanor panicked and backed against the nearest hedge, her feet crunching twigs and dead leaves louder than she could afford.
With her breath stuck in her chest, she waited in the shadows and slowly sank to the ground. Thick leaves obscured her vision and sharp ends of twigs jammed themselves into her skin but she did not dare move. She had to escape. There was nothing more important in her whole life. She did not move a muscle or even breathe and her skin felt too tight to contain the crippling fear that was bubbling under it.
