Page 18 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
Her father, from all the way in the dukedom of Brisdane, had sent her an order thinly veiled as a request for her to go and attend the function. The Harte patriarch was one of her father’s investors and she was to be his proxy to convey his good wishes. Eleanor barely knew the girl but by her father’s order, she was forced to be what she hated, a pretender.
“Miss Helena,” Eleanor greeted. “On behalf of my father, I offer my dearest well wishes on your birthday and congratulate you on your accomplishments.”
The girl, all done up in white muslin and with ribbons through her golden hair, blushed and took the felicitations with grace. “Thank you, Lady Eleanor.”
Polite chit-chat was not her forte so, with her duty done to the lady, Eleanor spoke to the lord and apologized on behalf of her absent father. Fully exonerated from her task, Eleanor gravitated to Miss Malcolm who was not too far behind.
“I am done here,” Eleanor said simply.
“Do you wish to return home, My Lady?” Miss Malcolm asked.
Yes, was on the tip of her tongue but she did not utter it as her eyes flitted over the rotunda they were in. The grand white stone structure that was soon to hold an orchestra for the night’s assembly was empty and bare but the surroundings which she could see from the doors were inviting.
A rare urge to banish duty for a moment, and explore and enjoy her surroundings birthed itself and she shook her head, “Mayhap we can walk a little? I have not heard much of these gardens but only of the, er, ignoble activities.”
“Very well, My Lady.”
Meandering through the well-dressed women and men who had come to celebrate Lady Harte’s accomplishment, Eleanor and her chaperone emerged on the south walk. Delighted chatter was in the air as people mixed and mingled but Eleanor’s eyes were on the glorious buildings.
They came upon an outstanding replica of the Grecian ruins and admired the painfully-detailed painting. “That is lovely.”
Her attention was commanded when she heard a gay laugh ring through the air and she spotted a young couple, clearly besotted with each other as they huddled close to a nearby fountain. The lady playfully fanned the man off but succumbed when he pecked her on her cheek.
Turning away, Eleanor bleakly wished them all the best. All of a sudden it was as if a switch had been flicked in her eyes and all she could see were the happy couples that walked the paths. Men and women sporting warm loving looks and with arms looped around their significant other dominated her vision, and she briefly wondered if there was some celebration for couples that she was not aware of happening today.
Then she realized, it was coming to evening and that Vauxhall Gardens was a playground for fraternization. Turning to Miss Malcolm, she happened to spot a head of russet hair she would know anywhere—Duke Oberton.
He was standing at the entrance of a bush circle and a lady with dark hair was hanging off his arm. She was tall and slender and wore a deep-blue dress under a grey pelisse. A lady, in an unremarkable blue dress, was standing not too far off from the pair. A chaperone perhaps?
She watched as his gloved hand went up and his teeth took hold of a finger. He tugged the glove off and then pocketed it. He then fished out a handkerchief from his jacket and dotted the lady’s face with it.
All that could have gone past her if…ifshe had not seen the look on the Duke’s face. It was a mirror of the one all the besotted couples around her had. Something damp and dark settled in her stomach as she faced Miss Malcolm, who blessedly, had not followed her line of sight.
“I am ready now,” she said while studiously ignored the picture of the two that dominated the corner of her eye.
“Yes, My Lady.”
Turning around, her eyes betrayed her strident decision and looked over to the Duke who, dash it all, had glanced over at the same time. Their eyes met and she coolly dipped her head in acknowledgment. Not needing or wanting to see if he reciprocated, Eleanor walked away with a growing numbness in her chest.
The carriage ride home was silent and Eleanor’s head was twisted to gaze blankly at the streets of London. Hawkers were on the street loudly selling their wares, children ran between the adults and shoddily-clad ne’er-do-wells lurked in the mouths of alleys.
The evening was softly closing in, she smelt rain on the wind and there were faint rumbles of thunder on the air, but the worst turmoil was in her mind. Why was the image of Oberton being so…tender with another lady bothering her so?
“My Lady?”
“Hm?”
Miss Malcolm's calm brown eyes met hers, “We have arrived.”
Eleanor blinked her way to reality, “Oh? Oh! Sorry, I was woolgathering.”
“I understand.”
With the help of the coachman, Eleanor entered the townhome and directed a maid to send her supper to her room. Bidding Miss Malcolm farewell, she entered the room to see Maria sweeping up the shards of a shattered vase. The child’s face was pale with fright and she jumped when Eleanor made her presence known.
“M-my Lady,” Maria stuttered in pure fright, “I am s-so sorry. I didn’t mean to break it, I swear!”
Calmly taking her coat off, Eleanor smiled, “Maria, calm down, I hated that vase anyway. You did me a service by breaking the thing.”
