Page 36 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
As she grew, Eleanor was more attracted to books and information than anything outdoors. But now that she had so much time to herself and every book in her drawing room had been read thrice over, why had she not tried it? It was a quiet activity and it would give her the mental solace to wonder about what to do with the Duke.
The maid arrived with an empty terra-cotta vase and after thanking her , Eleanor quietly placed the flowers inside. Taking the colorful display back to her rooms, she settled it on her dresser and went to her closet.
What old dress can I use?
* * *
Christ himself was the only one who could explain to Aaron why he had once again found himself in a dark cigar-perfumed room at Whites. Julius was still convalescing and he was studiously avoiding the other noblemen.
Wyndrake, who seemed to be a permanent fixture in the gentleman’s club, had tried to snub him but Aaron had not given him the pleasure of gaining his attention.
He was slowly sipping a glass of smooth port. Once again, the solitude of his townhome had gotten to him and he had sought out company. The tiny snag in that plan was that the only company he needed was at home under the order of bed rest from the medic and enjoying the loving care of his fiancée.
He was trying to not choke from the pungent mix of cigar smoke, alcohol and the newly-laid furniture wax on the tables. He had sent Eleanor a bouquet of flowers that morning and had yet to receive a reply. Had his instinct been off yesterday? Had he read her wrong? After he had gotten back from his food-seeking errand yesterday, the relieving news that Julius was being discharged the next day had sweetened his mood better than the box of sweet buns and the wrapping of smoked beef he had procured.
An anterior room where the doctors took their meals had been offered to them and he, Lady Darcy, and Eleanor had tucked into the food under the careful watch of the chaperone. She had casually thanked him and even the tentative smile she had given him had bolstered his notion that he was getting somewhere with her.
Fifteen hours after he had received no reply from Eleanor was perhaps a sign that he was not. Sighing, Aaron wondered if he had truly gone wrong with his approach. He was craving fresh air, so he took his drink and moved to the terrace. The blinking gas lights of the London streets barely penetrated the thick night and he welcomed the cool chill.
Presently, he discerned two voices, not familiar to him but male nonetheless and with nothing else to do, he listened in. The topic however swiftly turned his stomach.
“You know that Burcham sent his wife away to make room for his mistress,” one voice chortled. “I hear she’s a hot piece, an Opera ingénue with vocals like the heavenly choir and charms like Harriet Wilson.”
“Gads,” the other said, “the man has the nerve. He always gets what he wants and does not give a fig who suffers for it. What intrigues me is how he will play this replacement off to her family.”
“What family?” the other snorted. “His wife has a mother who he can easily send to Bedlam and a brother who is in clink prison for gambling debts up to his neck. There is no family to pander any excuses to.”
“But he can just get rid of her like that?”
“Yes, he can, but I am hoping someone might have the decency to warn this one that in two years or so when she loses her appeal, she might find herself the same way.”
A pregnant pause came and then the two busted out with sadistic laughs, “Let’s see what the chit will do, hm. I wager five-hundred pounds that she will be increasing in a month and then sent off to the colonies.”
Aaron was about to leave when the other spoke something that anchored him to the floor. “Speaking of wagers, you do know that Wyndrake offered Oberton five-thousand quid just to tame Lady Disdain…”, the short silence must have heralded a nod or some other acquiescent for the speaker to continue. “Oberton did not take it and a week or so later, he foolishly blurted out Wyndrake’s St. Giles scandal. No one in the right mind could have done such a thing…but then there this rumor bouncing about the shooting at the docks the night before last, and they say…” the voice hushed but it was loud enough for Aaron to hear, “Wyndrake had a hand in it.”
“What the devil?”
“Exactly, I heard that he paid a man to act like a blackguard and shoot Oberton’s friend, Wilcox, as a sign to not mess with him but the man came out alive.”
Aaron was ready to march over there and confront the speaker when the man snorted, “Then again, it could be poppycock. Anything nefarious always has Wyndrake’s name tacked on behind it. Whatever it is though, Oberton better know to watch his back. Wyndrake is the devil incarnated.”
“Hear, hear.”
With his hand stuck in his pocket, Aaron casually moved forward into the wash of light from the room beyond and just as casually lifted his glass to the two men who dropped their crystals. The shattering splinters of their glasses and their twain bloodless faces were enough satisfaction to Aaron who only turned around and went inside.
With every step, anger birthed and grew inside his chest.If Wyndrake was truly behind Julius’ shooting, I will kill him myself…that is if!
Chapter 10
This particular weed was putting up a strident resistance but Eleanor matched its stubbornness with her obstinacy. Her glove wrapped around the lower stem and yanked. A little of the root busted out of the ground and she smiled in pleasure.
She had finally sent the Duke of Oberton a reply to his gift and to take her mind from worrying how it would be received had moved to the garden. The brim of her hat shaded the sun rays from her eyes as she worked. The smell of the grass, the sweet earthy smell of the dirt and the fragrance of the flowers wrapped around her like an embrace from Mother Nature itself.
Her father had sent another letter delaying his return to another few days but she could not care less. Marshaling her strength, she yanked more and the weed came out with a satisfactory pop. She planned to visit Darcy later but as Darcy had told her that she would be nursing Mr. Wilcox at his home and Eleanor assumed she would be over there for most of the day. It would be best to wait.
She sat back on her heels and brushed the sprinkles of dust off her old grey dress. Her head lolled back and her face tilted to the sun. Breathing out, she dropped her head back and her eyes landed on a patch of green. The blades of the emerald grass dragged up the memory of the Duke of Oberton’s orbs.
She had come to the conclusion—clinical as it was—that she was attracted to the Duke, but could the physical meet the mental? The Duke had a mind she admired, yes, he had irritated her but she had forced herself to leap over that. Now…did she want to get to know him? Would their minds complement each other or would they clash?
