by Ella Edon
Putting the babies down to sleep in their cribs, Eleanor tiptoed out and went to collect her coat. Cecilia walked her out into the street, holding onto Eleanor’s bonnet and gloves as Eleanor tugged on her coat.
“Are you sure you won’t let Lawson walk you home?” Cecilia asked. “It is very dark out here tonight.”
“It’s fine. The gas lights are working tonight and I’m only around the corner.” Eleanor patted Cecilia’s arm. “I’ll be fine. Really.”
Cecilia didn’t look convinced, and for good reason, they’d had several attacks in the street lately. Some street children who evaded the orphanage’s attempts to bring them in would go after people who looked like they had money and either pickpocket them or hit their victim over the head before taking their valuables. Eleanor hadn’t been accosted yet, but she kept a knife in her pocket. Not the most ladylike of things, but she wasn’t about to be caught on her own and not be able to defend herself.
The sensible thing would be to get Lawson to walk her home as Cecilia suggested, but he was also needed to guard the door. Some unscrupulous characters had previously tried to come in and harass the nuns and steal some children - child labour was big in London. Lawson was someone you didn’t want to have a fight with, and he was better off being at the door. Useful for the children.
Eleanor took her bonnet and fixed it on her head before putting her gloves on. She smiled at Cecilia.
“You get back inside. It’s getting cold. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
“Good night, Lady Eleanor.”
Cecilia stepped back inside, Lawson closing the door behind her. Eleanor then started off down the street. It was only two turns in the street and then she came to her front door. If Eleanor was quick and kept to the lights, she would be fine. Nobody had bothered her so far. Fingers crossed, they would leave her alone.
“Hey! That’s enough! Enough!”
Eleanor slowed as she reached the end of the road. There was a tall man, a very tall man, wearing black with a hat low over his eyes grabbing two boys by their collars, hoisting them away from each other. It looked like they were trying to get loose and fight each other, but the man between them held them like he was holding a piece of paper.
“Enough!”
The man threw them on the floor, both boys sprawling. The young lads stopped fighting. Eleanor found herself stopping as she watched. Was this man abusing them? Or was something else going on? She couldn’t bring herself to keep moving. Mostly because she had to go through the middle of the fight.
The man stood over them, his voice a low snarl.
“What part of that did you not understand? Do you want to be punished for ignoring what you were told to do?”
The boys were cowering in front of him, clearly terrified. Now Eleanor was beginning to worry. What was going on? Had this man been breaking up a fight? Or had something else been happening?
Someone grabbed at her wrist. Eleanor gasped and spun around. A little boy was holding onto her sleeve, a knife in his hand pointed at her face. Eleanor froze. She should have reached for her own knife, but this was a boy. She couldn’t do it.
“Are you deaf? I said that’s enough!”
Then there were footsteps and the boy immediately let go of Eleanor, his expression going from one of determination to absolute fear. He backed away, and Eleanor turned to see the man approaching them. The shadows seemed to wrap around him, his hat hiding his eyes, but it was clear that he was focused on the little boy.
“Off you go.” He flicked his hand at the child. “Now! Go!”
The boy jumped and then backed away, turning and running off. Eleanor watched him go, her heart aching for him. To be that desperate that he had to threaten people to get money off them. She would happily give him some pennies to get some food. Even if it meant going hungry herself. Nobody needed to put a knife to her throat.
“Are you all right, Miss?”
Eleanor looked up, and then further up. The man was standing right in front of her, and he was far too tall. Her head barely came up to his chin. The lower half of his face was visible, showing a strong-hard jaw with a dusting of a beard, but Eleanor couldn’t clearly see his eyes.
He was certainly very imposing.
Then she realized he had asked her a question, and she cleared her throat.
“I’m fine. That just made me jump, that’s all.”
“That lad didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, of course not.” Eleanor sighed. “Poor boy. He didn’t look any older than ten years of age.”
The man grunted. “Children on the streets start at the age of six, in my experience. A lot of them are just trying to survive. They’ll do anything to get food in their bellies.”
“But they wouldn’t need to steal from people,” Eleanor protested. “I would have given them something. Those children should be at home. Or in the orphanage if they have no parents.”
The man spread his hands.
“You try telling a child they should be going into an orphanage. They’re not well-run, and there isn’t any freedom.”
“Oh, you think so?” Eleanor folded her arms. “Did you grow up in an orphanage? Did your personal experience colour your opinion? Because I help at the orphanage at the end of the street and it is very well run by the nuns there. There is also a lot of freedom. The children are always fed and clothed, and they’re treated with the love they need and deserve.”
They stared at each other. From the flickering expression on the man’s face - what she could see of his face - he hadn’t expected such a vehement response. He cleared his throat and took half a step back. Was he looking sheepish?
“Forgive me, Miss, but you don’t look old enough…” He winced. “You look too refined to be working there.”
“I’m more than old enough,” Eleanor said stiffly. “And why should it matter if I’m too refined? Someone has to look after these children.”
And someone had to stand up for them, even those who were forced to fight, attack and steal just to get anything. Eleanor was reminded of how privileged she was growing up, but not everyone got that chance. It made her appreciate life a bit more after witnessing what people would go through just to survive, even if it meant hurting others.
The man was staring at her. Eleanor couldn’t clearly read his expression, but he wasn’t scowling at her. If anything, he was curious. Maybe he couldn’t figure her out. He wouldn’t be the first one to think that; most men found Eleanor confusing.
“I like your spirit, Miss.”
Eleanor snorted. “You would be the first man who did.”
“It’s not a quality that men look for? I am surprised.”
“Not in this current time.” Eleanor was aware of how dark it was and how alone she was, even with this man. His presence was making her skin prickle, and Eleanor wasn’t sure what to make of it. She started to step around him. “I’d better go home. My father is going to wonder where I am, and I promised I would be home an hour ago.”
“Then I won’t keep you.” The man paused. “Unless you want me to walk you home. You should have a chaperone.”
“It’s not necessary, and I’ve got this in case something happens.” Eleanor reached into her pocket and brought out her knife. “I can look after myself walking just one street.”
The man was staring at the knife. He was more than likely not expecting a young lady to bring out a knife. Most women would accept the offer to be walked home. But Eleanor was not most women.
Then his mouth twitched into a slight smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Eleanor’s heart to miss a beat. That was a handsome smile, even if it wasn’t a full one. He bowed, stepping aside.
“Then I won’t accost you, Miss. Good evening.”
“Good evening, Sir.”
Eleanor hurried on, forcing herself to look forwards. She was still flustered at that half-smile. When was the last time a man had ever made her feel warm and fluttery inside? Probably never. Eleanor hadn�
��t had enough time to experience it with anyone. As soon as a certain viscount’s son, Matthew Leyton, had noticed her, he had made a point of letting everyone know that Eleanor was his girl and she wasn’t to be courted by anyone. People kept their distance whenever Eleanor tried to talk to them, she found out later it was because they didn’t want Leyton’s wrath. He had scared them into keeping away.
Eleanor didn’t like being someone’s property. It was pathetic, and she didn’t even like the young man. Matthew Leyton was not someone she wanted to be associated with. He was charming, but there was a snake-like quality underneath. There was also something about him that scared her. He had been possessive when he barely knew her, declaring that she was his before they had gotten to know each other. Eleanor wanted to get to know people on her own terms, not be forced into it. Leyton forced her. He accosted her at a ball and tried to get her alone. Eleanor had screamed and fought back, resulting in rescue coming. If she hadn’t, they might have been considered in a compromising position and then she would have been forced to marry him. Thankfully, Eleanor’s open dislike for Leyton and the screaming helped.
But that didn’t stop him. Even after her father had told him to back off, Leyton continued approaching Eleanor. It got to the point Eleanor refused to go out and socialize for fear of bumping into him, which seemed to be every time she stepped outside the house. Leyton was determined to have her in his life, but the message wasn’t getting through that he wasn’t wanted.
Then Eleanor’s mother had died, and Eleanor had the excuse of being in mourning not to receive guests. In that time while she was in mourning and focusing on her father who had turned to the bottle, Leyton had left London. The official line was he was going to visit family in the country as the London smog was getting to him, but rumours were that he had gone mad. He had done something which had scared his family and he had been taken away from London to be put in a sanitorium. Considering what she had experienced with him, Eleanor wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.
At least he wasn’t bothering her anymore. Unfortunately, while she had been doing her charitable work and making sure her father wasn’t losing their money at the gambling tables, life had passed her by. Now she was considered too old for marriage. Eleanor society People looked down on her and commented how lonely and sad she must be to not be married by now. It was annoying, and Eleanor hated that talk.
She would love to have a husband. Deep down, she would. But no one wanted an old maid. She might just have to put up with it and Eleanor could handle living alone if it was the only option. She didn’t consider herself alone, anyway, when she had her friend Marion and her work with the children. That was enough for her.
If that was the case, why was she thinking herself a liar right now?
Not now. Think about it when you’re not out in the open.
Ducking her head, Eleanor hurried on. She would be home soon, and then she could breathe more safely.
Chapter Six
“My lady?”
Vanity looked up and did a double take. Desiree had come into the morning room, shaking with her head down. She sounded like she was sobbing. Jumping to her feet, Vanity hurried over.
“Desire, what is it?”
“Mr... Mr. Bateman is back again.” Desiree lifted her head, her eyes filled with tears. “I... he…”
Then Desiree whimpered as there came footsteps. Vanity looked over her maid’s shoulder and saw Eric appear in the doorway. He leaned against the doorway and gave her a blank expression. But the dark look in his eyes...made her feel very cold.
Storming past Desiree, Vanity advanced on the man. “What did you do, Eric?” she hissed. “Did you strike Desiree?”
“She looked at me the wrong way.” Eric didn’t even blink or offer an apology. “I knew she was plotting something.”
“Your supposition does not give you the right to strike my maid!”
Eric twitched an eyebrow. No emotion there whatsoever. Vanity swallowed back the hard lump in her throat. Her lover before her husband had been a bad man. He lulled people in by pretending to be charming and lovable, only to turn nasty once he had them ensnared and started physically attacking them. He had done that to Vanity, and it had taken several months before Vanity was brave enough to leave him, the week before their wedding. People had taken one look at her face and then realized she was justified in leaving. Jasper had been ostracized for his actions. Eric had clearly inherited his violent streak.
Why Eric had been left with Jasper Black, a man known for his violence towards women, Vanity had no idea. Her midwife had a lot to answer for, once Vanity could find her. The woman had vanished a short while after she helped Vanity through her delivery. She had to have been mad to think that Jasper was a suitable father.
Stepping away from Eric, Vanity turned to Desiree, her maid sobbing quietly with her head down.
“Go and find Mrs. May, Desiree. She’ll take care of you.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
Desiree bobbed a quick curtsy, hurrying towards the door. She slowed as she reached Eric, but Eric didn’t move. Desiree had to step carefully around him, keeping her gaze averted. Vanity’s heart hurt at the sight. Her maid was normally so strong, and yet one slap from Eric and she had been reduced to a quivering mess. Vanity hated this.
She should have told Eric to shove it and get out. She could suffer the consequences, just. But that didn’t happen because Vanity had let her pride get in the way, and Eric was now in her life, refusing to leave.
Eric stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, leaning back against it. His eyes never left her. Vanity found herself stepping back. He was too much like Jasper, and that was terrifying.
“That was uncalled for, Eric,” Vanity snapped. “I’m doing what you ask. I didn’t say you could attack my servants.”
“They’re going to be my servants, too,” Eric replied smoothly. “I can treat them how I want.”
“You can’t just strike them.” Vanity narrowed her eyes. “Is this how your father taught you to behave with those in servitude? Is it for the same in the nobility? Because if he hadn’t hurt me the way he did, we would’ve been married for thirty-three years.”
Eric’s jaw tightened. “He told me about that. About the lies you said about him.”
“You think I’m a liar? That’s not a surprise. Jasper Black would believe the sky was bright red if he got that into his head. He was never wrong, no matter what.”
“And he told me everyone was against him, but he was not afraid to tell it how it was.” Eric pushed off the wall and advanced on her. “He taught me to stand up for myself and not take anything from anyone, including those who supposedly care about me.”
Vanity had to stop herself from backing away, even as Eric stood close to her and towered over her. He was imposing. Just like Nathan. But unlike Nathan, his presence just sent a shiver down Vanity’s spine. She was scared. Eric was dangerous. Nathan was...he was safe. She felt safe with him, even with their arguments.
If only she could tell him the truth. If only she was brave enough to own up to everything. But Vanity knew she wasn’t brave enough. She would never be brave enough.
“You would strike me?”
“I’ve been tempted. So many times, since we got...reacquainted.” Eric raised a hand, his fingers hovering inches from her neck. Then he wagged a finger. “But that would be naughty. Your darling son would figure out something was wrong if I touched you. So, that must wait for now. Once I’m the Earl, however…”
The smile he gave her made Vanity shudder. God, he was more like Jasper Black than she realized, even if they weren’t blood related. She gritted her teeth.
“I hate you,” she hissed.
“And I’m saddened that you have to think that about me.”
“You’re not sad.”