Page 68 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
Eleanor had gone quiet on his chest as Aaron, horror-stricken, could not stop reading this macabre tale. He came to a passage where the Duke of Brisdane had given the lady a blackened eye and dropped the book. Eleanor’s lashes were lowered and she seemed to be asleep but the tiny movements of her left hand on his chest told him otherwise.
Dropping the book, Aaron wrapped her closer. “I am so sorry Eleanor.”
“I think he killed her,” she said softly.
That made Aaron start. “Killed her?
Eleanor sat up and there was a solid determination in her eyes. “If he abused her for all these years what’s to stop him from killing her? He did say he would. I need to speak with Maria’s mother, Aaron, I need to know what she knows. The one time I saw her there was not much time to speak but now…now I must have a word with her.”
“That is going to be dangerous, Eleanor,” Aaron warned. “Even in broad daylight, which is a little bit better than night, it is still dangerous. Seven Dials is not a good place to go to or be seen near.”
“Then we will have disguises,” she replied and then turned a hopeful look on him. “You are coming with me, right? If not, I will do it myself—”
“I am coming with you,” Aaron cut her off. “There is no way I wouldn’t, and I am a little insulted that you would think otherwise.”
And maybe this is the way to show her that I do love her.
Relief pooled in her eyes and Aaron’s hand was halfway out to her before common sense stopped him. His palm was inches away from her cheek and her eyes had darkened to an unfathomable navy. “Eleanor, I did not ask you the first time and please forgive me for that, but may I kiss you now?”
“I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” she replied smartly, but softly.
This time, Aaron did it properly, he kissed her cheek first, loving how her eyes fluttered, and then placed his lips on hers. She willingly—almost eagerly—opened for him this time. Aaron savored the taste of her, as drinking in the sweetest mulled wine. They kissed softly, tongues twining with clear affection. The Duke tasted hints of sugar and milk and feared he would get addicted to her taste.
Pulling away, Aaron visually drank in the soft flush on her cheek and the pink tint of her lips. How could he have been so blind to her beauty before?
His voice lowered, “We must go now. If you don’t mind men’s clothing, I have a suit for you.”
* * *
Her hair was brushed back and stuffed under a cloth cap, her shirt was baggy enough to camouflage her breasts and her pants were loose. Anyone looking at her would immediately dismiss her as a poor chimney sweep. Aaron had on the poorest-looking clothes in his wardrobe, which, as he was a duke, were not very poor at all.
Corduroy tan breeches and a linen shirt with a flat cap and scuffed boots were the best he could find. The option of borrowing from his footmen had been dismissed as soon as it had been brought up as none of his men had a similar build.
They had walked to Piccadilly and hired another hackney but this man, the only one that was willing to drive them to the Seven Dials, had a look about him that Eleanor could easily attribute to a criminal. Still, they had to go.
Gazing out the window, with one hand clasped in Aaron’s reassuring one, Eleanor got to see the living conditions, and pity tightened her chest. Most of the people that shuffled along the walkways were gaunt, clad in little more than worn-out rags. The ones that had the pink coloration that suggested passable nutrition looked like gods among mortals, and they were few and far between.
Trash was ever present, and the stink of the garbage and slop burnt Eleanor’s nose, but she didn’t have the heart to cover it. On the mouth of one alleyway, she saw two children, orphans most likely, huddled under the protruding scaffold of a building and her heart broke.
“We’re here,” Aaron said as the carriage slowed to a stop.
Eleanor felt his grip tighten with reassurance as he led the way out and helped her to the ground. He paid the man the exorbitant fee of a half guinea and they went to Briks’ door. While knocking, fear and anticipation warred inside her. She wanted to know the truth about her mother but she feared the reality of it.
Her hand was tightly gripping Aaron’s. She heard the light footsteps behind the door, and someone inched it open. Maria’s large brown eye met hers and then the door was opened fully and they stepped in.
“My lady?” Maria asked, clearly confused, “Why are you here?”
Crouching, Eleanor said, “We must speak to your mother, Maria. Is she well?”
Before the child could reply, the mother’s raspy voice came from within the shack, “I suspected you would come back. Please, come in, and whatever you need to know, I will tell you if I can.”
“Ma’am…” Eleanor was not sure how she was going to introduce Aaron. “This is my…”
“Fiancé,” Aaron supplied and, temporarily dumbstruck, Eleanor shot a wide-eyed look at him. Aaron, however, was nonplussed.
“Aaron Barvolt, Duke of Oberton,” she finished with a blush. “I…I read my mother’s diary. Is it true…did my father…did he hurt my mother?”
* * *
