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Barricaded in her room, Eleanor had traced over the lines of the walls and the edges of her furniture countless times. She had reread all her books and when all was done, in the middle of staring blankly, she cried.

It took her by surprise but she did not question it and cried till her throat was raw. Grief about her mother, anger, and disillusion with her father had built, drop by drop behind the dam and when the barrier had broken, tears had streamed down her face.

Everything felt bleak and dreary except one point of light, the pinprick that was Aaron. He was all she had but she did not know how their love could be. Her father had already stated his distaste for Aaron, there was no possible way he was going to let her marry him.

Thank God it was getting dark as the light would have made it too real. Eleanor could remember the last time she had cried this much and it was for the same reason, her mother. The funeral had torn her apart while her father had stood, stoic, beside her. Eleanor had believed that he had been strong for her but now she felt his apathy had really been a lack of remorse.

He did something to Mother, I know it, I just don’t know how.

By degrees, she calmed down and by the time her door was knocked on, admitting a maid holding her supper, Eleanor was dry faced and tight lipped.

“Your supper, My Lady,” Lisa said quietly. “Crumpets and tea.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor’s reply was toneless moments before the door closed. She had no appetite but knew it was foolish to not eat so she took up the crumpet and slathered butter on it.

Biting in, she swallowed the lump of girdle cake and sipped the tea and caustically thought,Why does he not give me an infusion of laurel water then? This is no existence. What is he waiting for?

Dropping the cup, Eleanor tightened her wrapper and went to the window. She had never said a word to any of the guards or her father about how she had left the house so they did not know it was by her window.

For the last three nights she had itched to escape again but she did not know where her father’s men were. And since she was not allowed from her room, she did not know if any of them were still around. She had better not risk it until she was sure. But when could that be? And where could she go? If she ran, Aaron was the first conclusion anyone would come to and then he would be in trouble. She did not want to risk him with her father’s fury.

Huffing under her breath, she went to perch on the edge of her bed and braced herself on her hands. Every day that passed made the walls around begin inch closer in on her. Eventually, she would feel suffocated.

It is strange, once I would have wanted nothing more than the safety and security of my home, especially my room but now…now that I know what it is to have a life outside of books, and a man who loves me.

Covering her food from ants, Eleanor lit a lamp and went to readMeditations on First Philosophy,the book that Aaron had given her. She had read the book thrice but never lost interest. Time ticked away and she was nearly at the middle of the book when something clinked on her window.

Her eyes flicked up and then dismissed the interruption as a stray bug trying to get in—until it happened again. By the third clink, Eleanor got up and tightened her robe. Curiosity pulled her to the window and there she stuck her head out to see Aaron.

For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming but then that thought was eaten by fear. What was Aaron doing? If her father found him, he would be dead. Fear cramped her limbs for a moment until she gathered her senses that were scattered to the four corners of the world and decided that she had to take this chance.

If Aaron was there, that possibly meant that her father was away and so were his men. She grabbed her coat, where her money and his note still rested and shook off her robe. Dragging on a dress over her chemise, she wedged a chair under her door knob, ran to the window and climbed out.

Her fingers gripped at the stone sill and haste almost made her slip on the way down for the first steps. Her heart was hammering in her ribcage like the fury of a Norse god’s slamming hammer, and the fear of being caught another time was like ice to her veins. What was to say a guard had not stayed behind? What was to say he would not be rounding the corner at that very moment? How could she be denied this one chance of freedom again?

She was scared, deathly scared, but the hunger for freedom overcame her fear. As she came to the last few feet, anticipation for her freedom caused her to lose her footing and in terrible reflex, her hand lost its grip and she slipped. Thankfully, she was near enough to the ground to be caught by a wide-eyed but ready Aaron. She loved feeling his strong arms around her and sense of safety they held but did not have the time to soak it in.

“Christ’s Blood, Eleanor, that was—”

“Let’s go,” Eleanor’s whisper cut his terrified words off. “We don’t have much time.”

Taking his hand, she darted to the same direction she had aimed for four nights earlier and with trembling breath and pounding heart, scanned the lawn and ran toward the forest. Aaron’s hand was secured in hers and they made through the brush like ghosts.

“Eleanor—”

“Shh…,” she hushed while brushing a branch away from her face. She was a little disoriented for a moment before getting her bearings and walked until they met the wall.

“Eleanor?” Aaron’s voice had dipped to a question.

She spun and hugged him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“My pleasure, love,” Aaron replied while brushing her cheek with his. “I suppose explanations can wait.”

“Yes, but we cannot go to your home, Aaron,” Eleanor explained. “My father knows that I love you and you will be the first person he will come after when he sees that I am gone.”

The Duke was silent, Eleanor could see that her words were running through his mind and he then met her with a glittering look, “I know exactly where to go.”