Page 77 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
Julius was looking around and searching for any lead he could find to prove Eleanor’s suspicion. There was none yet but Aaron had absolute faith in his friend. Julius had a tendency to not only do what was asked of him but go above and beyond that. That compulsion was what had pushed him in the spotlight for the Superintendent position but it also put him in the focus of criminals. He prayed that this time, Julius would be safe.
With a lit lamp, Aaron sorted through a few letters he had sidelined and read through them one by one. He read over messages by his steward, smiling in satisfaction that everything in the dukedom was being managed splendidly. He read a letter from Harding, who to his surprise was still investigating the issue with Wyndrake and the last letter that came from the manager of his trading business.
The words eradicated the pleasure he took from his steward’s report. Of the two-thousand-and-seventy casks reported to landed, ninety were suddenly missing. Ninety! Aaron nearly had an apoplexy. How could ninety casks suddenly go missing?
Dropping the letter, Aaron framed his head with his hands and then scrubbed his face over thrice. So not only did he have to speak with Eleanor, he had to fetter out what was going on with his business. The day was going to be a long one.
Soft rays of golden rose filtered through the thin window curtains and Aaron leaned over to blow out the lamp. Hiddleston came into the room and instantly backpedaled, “Your Grace, my apologies, I came to open the windows.”
“No need,” Aaron waved. “When you’re done, coffee, please. Black and strong enough to resurrect the dead.”
A snort left Hiddleston before he could control it but apologized for his lapse of propriety and went on with his task. Aaron tugged out a sheet of paper, his quill and began to take notes. He had to get someone in the warehouse to answer to his demands and he was not leaving without one.
“Your coffee, Your Grace,” Hiddleston said while approaching with the carafe and the cup on a silver tray. “And whenever you are ready, your tub will be filled.”
Aaron blinked. That was thoughtful of him. “Thank you.”
With parting words and a bow, the manservant left and Aaron finished his notes. The coffee was indeed strong enough to raise the dead. The taste was horrible and bitter but smooth and gave Aaron a jolt of energy. With his notes taken and his cards for his visit to Eleanor prepared, Aaron gave the order to fill his tub.
One way or another I am going to get some answers today.
Blackwall Docks, past the Isle of Dogs, was going to take him three hours both ways and he did not know how long it was going to take to see Eleanor. While getting dressed, he anticipated a mind-splitting migraine at the end of the day.
God knew, he hated hats, but he donned a top hat just to complete the look of his pinstripe grey waistcoat, black trousers and matching obsidian greatcoat. Worry was a light ball in his chest as he prepared for his first stop. He needed to know that Eleanor was doing well before he could move onto his other business.
It did not take him long to get to the Stanley house and Mr. Ambrose greeted him with a bow, “Welcome, Your Grace.”
“Thank you,” Aaron said while handing over his card, “Is Lady Eleanor well?”
The butler’s face twisted a little and Aaron felt his worry flare, “She is Your Grace but—”
“Oberton,” Brisdane’s rumbling voice cut the butler’s words off. The man was as menacing as his voice, in full black and sporting a matching dark glower. “You are looking formal—serious business to attend to, I presume?”
“Yes,” Aaron replied. It was hard to keep his composure when the man’s body language clearly showed that he was not wanted there. “I have come to visit Lady Eleanor.”
“She is ill,” the man replied.
Aaron conspicuously noted that the butler had suddenly vanished from the foyer and the Duke’s jaw had gotten stiffer.
Something is wrong here.
“My sympathies,” Aaron replied, “I hope she will recover soon.”
“I’m sure she will,” Brisdane’s voice was frosty.
Aaron was aching to throw out an accusation about his dead wife but that would be swiftly met with a dawn appointment. Things were already stressful. They had to prove that he had committed the crime; his business was going out of order; Eleanor’s illness was too convenient; and the antagonism he felt from the Duke was chafing his decision to be polite.
“Give her my best,” Aaron spoke coolly. “Good day, Brisdane.”
Receiving the man’s brusque farewells Aaron entered his carriage. Trying to focus on his other issue was tricky as his mind kept circling to Eleanor.I must do something…but what?
That question haunted him during the three-hour trip to the Blackwall Docks and he arrived with more impatience than he had planned. From the window of his carriage, the smell of polluted water and the thick cacophony of dockhands barraged his senses.
He could make out the towering masts of large ships bobbing on the blue-black water and small barges ferrying goods back and forth from the docks. Some of those smaller vessels were moored on the wharf side and were being unloaded by lines of husky men moving between the boats and the warehouse.
The carriage pulled as close to the cavernous entrance as it could and Aaron stepped out only to slap a hand on his hat. The strong breeze blowing from the water fluttered his greatcoat and was threatening to abduct his hat.
“You there!” Aaron called over to the closest man, “Where can I find Mr. Mercer?”
