Page 84 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
With a pleased nod, Eleanor left the room and went to the chamber she had been given. True to Lady Darcy’s word, the same housekeeper she had met before came with a large basin of warm water.
Thanking her, Eleanor went to clean off all the splattered flour from her arms and streaks of cinnamon from her face with the same smile on her lips. She dressed in the same clothes and ventured downstairs to meet a plate of warm buns and tea.
“Where is Mr. Wilcox?” she asked while nibbling on a bun.
“Right here,” the man said from behind them.
Eleanor twisted in her seat to see him coming toward them with a letter in his hand. The look on his face was not exactly comforting.
“Is it Aaron?”
He nodded curtly as he took a seat and accepted a cup of coffee from Lady Darcy. Thanking her with a smile, he dropped the letter on the table and smiled. “For preventive measures, he cannot come. He does not know if your father would have spies follow him, so he is staying put.”
The implication of not knowing if her father had put a tail on him only meant that he had in fact seen her father and he had come out unharmed. Thank God for that but though it felt good that Aaron had survived, Eleanor felt that there was more to it than that.
“What else is there?” she asked politely.
Mr. Wilcox’s eyes shifted between hers and Lady Darcy and on the second rotation, stuck with his fiancée. The look on his face was one silently asking permission and the tiny nod Lady Darcy gave him seemed to be it. Once again, Eleanor marveled. The two could communicate without a single word spoken between them.
Would Aaron and I get to that state someday?
The man cleared his throat, “He wrote that something in your father’s desperation felt off…it felt not as if he was too much worried about your absence as a daughter, but as someone that might cause trouble for him.”
“Why would he think that…?”
“You will love another. Do not make this into some trite Shakespearean tragedy Eleanor, first love never lasts.”
“Mother would have never done this to me…she would have let me be free to love him.”
“Your Mother is not here.”
“Did she die how you said she did? How was she suddenly ill?
“Drat,” she whispered. “I know why…I mouthed off about my mother. My father is not foolish, he might have picked up on something. If he truly did kill my Mother, he would want me back to make sure I was under his control.”
“He also said that this might be the time to go try any clues we can get from your home in Brisdane,” Mr. Wilcox said. “And since he cannot go with you, he is leaving it to me to guard you through it.”
“And…?”
Mr. Wilcox’s expression was loaded with satisfaction how Eleanor had picked on the unsaid words of Aaron’s letter. “We must go disguised.”
“I don’t understand why he’s sending us to Brisdane. My father has had almost eight years to destroy any evidence of his crime,” Eleanor replied.
“Oh, we are not going to your house,” Mr. Wilcox’s grin was sly. “That would be foolish and tip your father off. No, we need to find the physician who treated your mother for her supposed illness.”
Eleanor blinked. When had she told Aaron about that?Hadshe told Aaron about that? “Pardon me, but how does he know that?”
Lady Darcy’s hand rested on her knee, “Dear, I don’t expect that you will like this as you have made it a point to avoid social gatherings, but almost everyone knows about Lady Brisdane’s untimely demise. There are hardly any secrets in the ton.”
She felt a bit self-conscious that others knew about her family’s business. “Very well, I suppose we should get ready. Brisdane is a good way away.”
“Eleanor?” Lady Darcy was cautious, “Are you ready for this?”
“It does not matter whether I am ready or not,” Eleanor replied sagely. “It must be done, and I must be a part of it. What is the disguise anyway?”
Mr. Wilcox held up a bag that she had not noticed him carrying before. When the contents spilled out, Eleanor laughed. There were the same breeches and shirt Aaron had given her on their trip to see Maria’s mother.
“Seems Oberton does not want you wearing anything but his clothes,” Mr. Wilcox smirked. “He is a bit possessive, I must say.”
