Page 48 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
“No!” Eleanor said, “Father no.”
“Eleanor,” his voice had dipped to dark and chilling. “Step aside.”
“No,” she repeated. “Let me handle this.”
His face darkened to engaged purple, “Give the child over so she can pay for her crime.”
“She dropped a bowl, father,” Eleanor replied. “She did not kill someone, now please, let me handle it.”
He huffed and his eyes shot over to the child cowering in the corner. Eleanor followed his eye and clenched her jaw at the sight of Maria’s bloodless face. Fenton huffed and strode out and it was only when he was gone, she could breathe. She reached out to Maria and touched her quaking hand.
“Don’t fear Maria,” Eleanor vowed to the little girl and herself. “I am getting you out of here.”
“B-b-but, My Lady…” Maria’s pained voice dipped to a hush, “…how?”
“Pretend to cry out, like I am slapping you,” Eleanor directed as Maria dutifully cried out with a level of pain that could truly have come from being spanked.
“Now run to the gardening shed and stay there,” Eleanor ordered. “Go!”
As the child took off Eleanor waited three breaths, purposefully slipped on a shard and cried out sharply. A footman rushing in saw her on the floor and ran to help her up.
Her father shoved the door in and stormed inside, “What is it? Where is she?”
“I slipped and she ran off,” she breathed out while hanging on the footman’s arm. “She’s gone to the village.”
The Duke’s face darkened, and he snarled, “I knew it!” he went off and she heard him order two footmen to chase after Maria.
While she was helped over to a chair, Eleanor breathed in,Be smart Maria...please be smart and wait until I get to you. If they catch you, I will be in trouble, so for your life and my sanity, please be smart.
Chapter 14
Something was not adding up. Aaron took another look at the numbers inches away from his eyes. The sum of sales looked right but then— he reached over and shuffled a few papers and plucked one up.
This one reported that the five-hundred and fifty tubs had sold at 89 shillings each which gave him the two-thousand four-hundred and forty-seven pounds but then, how was this ledger only recording two-thousand two-hundred and ninety-one pounds? Either the tubs had been suddenly lost or someone was stealing from him.
But who?
Scrubbing a hand over his face Aaron decided to tackle that debacle the next morning and sent for his carriage. The vehicle passed the mouth to Eleanor’s home a smile tugged at his lips, perhaps he would call on her tomorrow.
The streets of London did not sleep. Hawkers were still out, taverns were lit and drunken men staggered in and out, while ladies of ill repute lingered in shadowed alley mouths.
Shaking his head in dismay at the ends people resorted to for a loaf of bread, Aaron looked ahead to his destination. The scent of leather and sickening sweet cigar smoke greeted Aaron as he entered White’s a little after seven that night. He was still feeling the high of knowing that Eleanor was allowing him to court her and no snide comment from any of the lords there would damper it.
Looking back on his and Eleanor’s tumultuous history, it felt strange and unbelievable that he had reached this point with her. Aaron wanted to see her smile more, laugh more, and he even wanted to see the wicked light in her eyes when she chose to be mischievous. He wanted to her to let down her barriers and accept his affection, he wanted her to know what a loving touch meant, and most of all, he wanted her to trust him.
Under all that bluster, he knew Eleanor was a bit fragile. Like the story of Achilles, she was hardy and armoured against all pain but there was one place that was left bare, and if attacked, it could shatter her.
Entering the lounge, Aaron heard the conversation grind to a halt before it picked up again. That was concerning and he made a mental note of it while going to a seat.
“Oberton, I am surprised to see you here,” Norwood greeted.
Aaron’s brow curved up, “Any particular reason?”
“You don’t know?” Norwood’s jaw dropped slightly. “Oberton, ever since you insulted Wyndrake, he’s out for your blood.”
“I beg your pardon?” Aaron barely held in his skepticism. “How is he out for my blood?”
“Oberton, you cannot possibly think that Wyndrake would sit by and let your open insult to his credibility go unanswered?” Norwood’s voice had dropped to a hush.
