Page 37 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
Just thinking about it the possibility of it made her heart race a little. Did she want to cross the barrier of their peaceful agreement to disagree to a deeper acquaintanceship? When she remembered how he looked at her, his green eyes were so warm, she dropped her eyes to her gloved hand…and it was trembling.
* * *
Aaron had barely stepped into the reception area of the office of private investigators Harding and Sullen in a Bloomsbury London office when the receptionist rushed over to take his coat. The medium, two-story, slate-roofed building looked decidedly quaint with its wooden structure, a wide placard brandishing its name and purpose rising behind a white picket fence.
“Welcome Your Grace,” the young man with frizzled golden-brown hair and open disposition bowed eagerly. “We are honored to have you. Mr. Harding will be with you in a moment. May I offer you some tea, a newspaper, a glazed cake perhaps?”
“Thank you but cake and tea are not necessary,” Aaron replied while trying to not react to the flattering greeting. “A paper might do though.”
“Please take a seat,” he said while gesturing to the comfortable padded seats. “I’ll give you today’s—”
“That’s not necessary Ferdinand, I can take it from here.” a deep baritone came from an open door. Following the voice came a man, medium height and build with an unremarkable face and short cut hair. He stood with a soldier bearing and his handshake was firm.
“Welcome Your Grace, please come in.”
The office was clean and minimalistic, and the word spartan came to Aaron’s mind. The seat he took was firmer than the one outside but it was comfortable nonetheless.
“I am Investigator Harding and I must tell you I was intrigued by your letter. Regarding your correspondence, you said it is an important matter. What may I help you with?”
“A comrade of mine Mr. Julius Wilcox, a constable with the River Thames Police was shot and injured at the docks three nights ago. I happened upon a rumor that Duke Wyndrake was behind the attack.”
The man’s lips pressed tightly in thought, “And where did this rumor come from?”
“And this is where it might get insubstantial,” Aaron replied. “I heard it at Whites, but before you think it is just gentleman talk, Wyndrake and I do not have a cordial relationship. Frankly, he hates me.”
“You think he paid to injure Mr. Wilcox to get back at you.”
“Not just injured,” Aaron said tightly. “I heard he was aiming to kill.”
Inspector Harding interlaced his fingers on the desk, “That does seem insubstantial but I have proven stranger things in my day. May I ask, you could have easily summoned me to your home, why did you personally come here?”
“Because I believe in mutual respect,” Aaron replied. “Many hold men in my position as lazy capitalists that languish in their wealth and abuse the power to summon men at their will. I am not that kind of man. Respect is earned after it is given.”
Harding’s shrewd eyes met his, “That is strange ethic for a duke but I welcome it. There is not much to go on about the attack but I will look into this personally, Your Grace. You have my word.”
Standing, Aaron tugged his waistcoat down and reached over to shake the man’s hand again, “Please reach out to me if you need anything else.”
Harding accompanied him out and the receptionist had his coat ready. With it on, he bade a last farewell to the two men and strode to the carriage. Climbing inside, he mentally ticked off the beginning of his duty to Julius. That meeting had gone perfectly but he could not say that the next one would be the same.
Aaron arrived at the townhome with his mind shifting from personal needs to business acumen. Three of the investors in his uncle’s company would be there and so would the banker who kept the financial records.
Everything would be great if one persistent investor, who was older than Methuselah, and who kept niggling him about marriage, kept his mouth shut.
The footman at the door greeted him, “Welcome home Your Grace, your guests are in the study waiting for you. Refreshments have been sent up and they are ready for you.”
Gritting his jaw, Aaron nodded and took the stairs. As he neared the study, he could hear the deep, distinctive tones of the four men in the room.
“Good day, gentlemen,” he entered and greeted the men dressed in somber black. “My apologies for making you wait.”
His eyes ran over the three youngest men, an Earl, a young Marquess, the banker, and oldest man, another Marquess. “Well, let’s get to it, shall we?”
Circling his desk, he took out his files and sat, “Mr. Parsons, what is the state of our accounts?”
Aaron steeled himself to the man’s monotone drone and forced himself to pick out the most prominent information. He was happy to hear that the profits were climbing sustainably and the losses from theft and transport costs were down. There was no debt to pay off and all the ship workers were paid. After two hours of happy discourse, Aaron signed off on the next shipping schedule and payments.
Shaking the hands of the three men, Aaron groaned internally. The Marquess of Slatten stayed behind. The man was his grandfather’s investor and had seen him in his leading strings. It would be a disservice to ask him to leave so he offered him a drink.
“Thank you, son,” Slatten accepted the drink. “So how close are you to finding a bride?”
