Page 9 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
She stilled and slowly let down the glass. “You…don’t know? How could you not know?”
“I just—” Aaron realized from the lowering of her eyes and the tightness of her jaw that she probably would not believe him even if by some miracle he managed to explain himself. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Why is that every time we meet, we end up arguing?” Aaron snapped.
“Because you are pompous and pedantic and you annoy me,” she said plainly.
Aaron realized that there was no way to get to her and laughed at his foolish belief that he could have.
“And you wouldn’t believe me if I summoned God himself to reveal why I did what I did and then ask him to be the judge if I told you the truth. I am sorry for wasting your time. Good evening, Lady Eleanor.”
Spinning around, Aaron wasted no time in leaving and nodded curtly to Lord Greenville as he strode off. He met Lord Greyson and offered his thanks for the wonderful ball and studiously ignored the Duke of Wyndrake’s superior smirk.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Lord Greyson shook his hand strongly. “Good night, Oberton.”
“And you too.”
He was collecting his coat when Wyndrake snidely said, “I assume you failed.”
Aaron was severely tempted to spin around and plant a facer on the man but did not dare do so. The older duke was powerful and had much more time in the proverbial ring than he had. But there was only so much he could take and so much he would allow the older peer to get away with.
“I could only fail if I had accepted,” Aaron replied with forced ease. “And I did not accept, so ergo, I have not failed.”
His carriage came and Aaron nimbly entered, and knocked on the top. Sinking into his seat he pressed his hands into his stinging eyes, “That was an unmitigated disaster, she hates me and I cannot stand her. Why did I think I could mend our fences? She’d rather rip a stake out and stab through my heart. It’s over…it’s all over.”
Chapter 3
Aday and nine hours after the disastrous dance, Eleanor had finally allowed her curiosity to get the better of her and she had plucked the card from the bottom of the drawer that she had banished it to.
Duke Oberton’s writing told her a lot, instead of immaculate cursive as she had expected, he wrote with a slashing hand. Every word was a sword, with long strokes and dagger-sharp endings. Her fingers flitted on the underside of the card and she felt the deep indents from the press of the pen.
Why is he so impatient?
The unexpected meet on the dark balcony had given her the impression that the Duke was a man of serenity with his tempered words and calm demeanor. This tangible proof of his impatience forced her to make a different perception on him. What was he really like? Was he careful and meticulous or was he impulsive and slapdash?
“Because I don’t know…I don’t know why I gave you the card so I can’t explain it.”
“His voice was agitated and his face tense…perhaps he is a hot-head,” Eleanor mused and flicked the card over.I am still convinced he did this to agitate me.
Flicking the square back into the drawer, Eleanor closed the drawer with her hip while drawing a warm shawl around her. Her father was not going to be pleased when he returned, but what else could she have done?
Meandering to her sitting room, she sat in her chaise and rang for her morning tea. A book,The System of Natureby noted atheist Paul-Henri Thiry, Baron d’Holbach, was cracked open and she began reading at her earmarked page. This was another subtle resistance against her father who had insisted on her not reading anything that gave her bad ideas on their faith.
Her father did not understand that she read only material like this for the sake of knowing other peoples’ point of view. To her, being closed minded and just banking on one train of thought or the rules of one culture was a cardinal sin.
There was a reason why other cultures and other schools of thought had emerged and she was not going to dismiss them all and willingly blind herself to one dogma. Besides that, her faith was well solidified inside her soul and no words from an atheist were going to chip away at it.
“Good morning, my lady,” a black-clad maid greeted as she placed the tea tray on Eleanor’s coffee table. “Was your night peaceful?”
“As could be, Lisa,” Eleanor mused while casting an eye over the teapot, cup, and morning crepes. Her eyebrow danced up when she spotted a calling card beside her fare. Reaching out, she plucked it up and opened it. It was a request for a visit by Lord Greenville.
Oh drat.
The Lord was wonderful and gentle but…he was too unassuming. That was the kindest word she could offer as nothing about the man stood out for her. It was wonderful that he thought to initiate correspondence with her but he had barely made a mark upon her last night. The man that had was one she knew she was never going to hear from again—Duke Oberton.
“When was this delivered?”
